In this haunting episode, Amy Smith and LaDonna Humphrey revisit the unsolved disappearance of 25-year-old Darla Harper, who vanished from her apartment in Gravel Ridge, Arkansas, on March 4, 1986.
When Darla failed to show up for work the next morning, a coworker discovered her three-year-old daughter alone in the apartment — with blood on the door and Darla gone. What followed was a decades-long mystery marked by disturbing clues, a child’s chilling testimony, and unanswered questions that continue to torment her family.
Victim: Darla Harper, 25
Missing Since: March 4, 1986
Location: Gravel Ridge, Arkansas
Circumstances:
Neighbors heard strange noises between 11:00–11:30 p.m.
Her daughter reported seeing “three men wearing funny hats” and said “Mommy was in a bag.”
A neighbor claimed to have seen Darla being dragged from her apartment.
Her car was later found abandoned nine miles away with blood and unidentified fingerprints inside.
Primary Suspect: Darla’s ex-husband, who was later accused of confessing to her murder by his second wife.
Evidence: Bone fragments were discovered during a 1990 search, but they were too degraded for identification.
Status: Still missing — no one has ever been charged.
Darla was a devoted mother, a hardworking IRS employee, and a woman with her entire life ahead of her. Nearly forty years later, her daughter still seeks answers — and justice remains out of reach. Her case stands as a reminder of how many women vanish without closure, their voices silenced but never forgotten.
If you have any information about the disappearance of Darla Harper, please contact the Pulaski County Sheriff’s Office at (501) 340-6601. Even the smallest lead could make a difference.
The Lost Girls is a short-form podcast by Amy Smith and LaDonna Humphrey, dedicated to honoring missing and murdered women and girls. Each episode highlights a different case — brief, powerful, and deeply human.
On July 25, 1985, sisters Rozlin Rochelle Abell (18) and Fawn Marlene Abell (15) left their home in Bethany, Oklahoma, to look for jobs. They never came back.
The girls were last seen hitchhiking near 59th and Rockwell, a habit they were known for—but this time, something went terribly wrong. Nearly four decades later, their family still waits for answers. Their Social Security numbers have never been used since that summer day, and no confirmed sightings have ever surfaced.
In this episode of Lost Girls, Amy Smith and LaDonna Humphrey revisit the mysterious disappearance of Rozlin and Fawn—two bright young sisters whose lives were abruptly stolen by silence. Together, they explore the timeline, the clues, and the lingering questions surrounding the case, while honoring the family’s enduring hope for justice.
Who: Rozlin Rochelle Abell (18) & Fawn Marlene Abell (15)
When: Last seen July 25, 1985
Where: Near 59th & Rockwell, Bethany, Oklahoma
Circumstances: Left home to look for jobs; seen hitchhiking; never returned
Status: Social Security numbers unused since 1985; case remains open and unsolved
The vulnerability of young women who hitchhiked in the 1980s
The long-lasting impact of disappearance on families
The importance of keeping cold cases in the public eye
How advocacy and storytelling can help bring awareness and new leads
If you have any information about the disappearance of Rozlin and Fawn Abell, please contact the Bethany Police Department or your local law enforcement agency. Even the smallest detail could help bring these sisters home.
In this haunting episode of The Lost Girls, hosts Amy Smith and LaDonna Humphrey take listeners deep into the heart of small-town Arkansas, where safety is supposed to be a way of life — yet three young women have vanished without a trace.
Madelin Tomlin (Hope, AR – 2015), Mercedes Toliver (Prescott, AR – 2016), and Destinee Bruce (Hope, AR – 2025) are names that echo through the quiet streets of two close-knit towns now united by tragedy and unanswered questions.
LaDonna and Amy explore the unnerving parallels between these cases — three women, all young and loved, missing within an 18-mile radius. Each disappearance is different, but all share one chilling commonality: silence.
In places where “things like that don’t happen,” these women’s disappearances demand attention — and action. Their stories remind us that justice delayed is not justice denied, and that every girl deserves justice.
Sources & Acknowledgments
We are deeply grateful to the following for information used in this episode:
The Charley Project – case summaries and historical records
NamUs (National Missing and Unidentified Persons System) – official case entries and identifiers
News Archives
If you are a family member with updates or corrections, please contact us so we can keep these stories accurate and current.
The Lost Girls Podcast is taking a short break!
We’re currently on vacation as we prepare to send our kids back to school and take some much-needed time to rest, refresh, and reflect. This break also allows us to thoughtfully respond to the hundreds of messages we’ve received from families asking us to share their loved one’s story.
We’ll be back at the end of August with a brand new season—one filled with powerful, important stories of Lost Girls who deserve to be seen, heard, and remembered.
Thank you for your continued support. We can’t wait to share what’s coming next.
Patricia disappeared from Albuquerque, New Mexico at 3:00 p.m. on June 17, 1969. She left her home in the 800 block of San Pedro Drive southeast to sell raffle tickets for the Elks Club. She returned home briefly to pick up her coin purse which she'd forgotten, then left again, and never returned. She was last seen by a neighborhood girl who waved to her on the street.
On this episode of Lost Girls, we’re stepping back to 1986—to a quiet neighborhood in Reseda, California—where a nineteen‑year‑old named Joyce Irene Walcott vanished in the middle of an ordinary day.
Joyce, who friends affectionately called Sneezie, had survived a devastating car accident that left her with scars and a reconstructed neck, a testament to her resilience. She was bright, determined, and hopeful for a new start. That April morning, she left her aunt’s apartment, job applications in hand, ready to take steps toward her future.
She walked to a nearby 7‑11 to drop off one application. Then she stopped next door for another. By the time she made her way to Winchell’s Donuts to meet friends, Joyce was still laughing, still making plans, still filling out paperwork. But somewhere between that donut shop and her aunt’s apartment—just two blocks away—Joyce simply vanished. Her application was never turned in. Her steps never traced back home.
Nearly four decades later, foul play is still suspected, and Joyce’s name is still whispered among the missing.
Join us as we revisit Joyce Walcott’s story—piece together her last known moments—and search for the answers that have eluded her family for far too long.
Listen now to Lost Girls. Her story deserves to be heard.
In this episode of Lost Girls, we dive into the haunting case of Darian Hudson—a bright, beautiful 23‑year‑old who vanished from Stillwater, Oklahoma, in 2017.
On October 21st, Darian made plans with her mother to move back home to Wichita, Kansas. But just days later, she was gone. Conflicting records list her disappearance between October 22nd and October 26th, but for this episode, we’ve chosen to focus on October 26th—the day witnesses last saw her walking near Country Club Drive and McElroy.
Weeks later, a disturbing clue surfaced: a man caught trying to use Darian’s debit card in Oklahoma City. He claimed he’d found it in a purse left on a concrete sewage container at a church construction site in Stillwater—back in October.
Where was Darian going that day? Who left her belongings behind? And why, after all this time, has she never been found?
Join us as we piece together the timeline, sift through conflicting details, and shine a light on Darian Hudson’s story. Because she’s more than a missing person—she’s a daughter, a friend, and a life that matters.
👉 Listen now to this episode of Lost Girls. Her story deserves to be heard.
She told her family she was coming home.
She packed her bags.
And then—April Beth Pitzer vanished.
In this episode, we dive into the haunting disappearance of April, a 30-year-old mother of two who went missing from Newberry Springs, California in 2004. She was supposed to be boarding a bus back to Arkansas… but she never made it.
Rumors of drug activity.
A history of cooperation with law enforcement.
And a desert full of secrets.
Join us as we unravel the tangled story of a woman who may have known too much—and trusted the wrong people. Interviews, leads, heartbreak—and questions that still don’t have answers.
What happened to April Beth Pitzer?
She had two young children. A life she was preparing to reclaim. And a quiet strength that so many survivors carry.
On December 10, 1987, Christi Jo Nichols vanished from her home in Gothenburg, Nebraska. She was just 22 years old. Christi had made plans. She was preparing to leave her husband and start fresh—with her children.
But she never got the chance.
The next morning, her husband reported her missing. Blood was found in the home. Blood was found in the car. DNA confirmed it was Christi’s. Weeks earlier, she’d gone to the emergency room, her body covered in bruises. She had told people she was ready to leave. And then—she was gone.
Months later, her purse and suitcase were found abandoned at a rest stop, as if someone wanted it to appear like she ran away. But she didn’t. She was taken.
There’s been evidence. There’s been silence. But there has never been justice. No one has ever been charged in connection to Christi’s disappearance.
Her children grew up without their mother. Her family has waited in agony for nearly four decades. And still, they wait.
Christi was more than the bruises. More than the headlines. She was a mother. A daughter. A woman who tried to survive.
And she is one of All the Lost Girls.
If you know anything about what happened to Christi Jo Nichols, please contact the Nebraska State Patrol at 402-479-4049. Case #5501-1287.
Listen to the full story now in our latest episode of Lost Girls: Christi’s Last Chance.
Because Christi deserves more than memory—she deserves truth.
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Today on The Lost Girls Podcast, we’re telling the story of Brandi Jo Malonson, a young woman who survived the Columbine High School shooting but later disappeared from Littleton, Colorado, in 2006.
Brandi faced unimaginable trauma—losing friends to violence and suicide—yet she still tried to build a better life. But the pain eventually led her down a difficult path, and one day after Christmas, she vanished without a trace.
Rumors, dead ends, and silence have surrounded this case for nearly two decades. But Brandi’s story—and her fight to survive—deserves to be heard.
Listen now as we share her life, her struggles, and the unanswered questions that remain.
Brittney Nicole Wood was only 19 when she vanished from Tillman’s Corner, Alabama, in 2012. What started as a missing persons case quickly unraveled into something far more horrifying.
Brittney wasn’t just missing—she was the key witness in a multi-generational family sex trafficking ring. A ring where eight of her own relatives were eventually arrested. This wasn’t rumor. This wasn’t speculation. These were proven crimes—acts of unspeakable abuse against children, some trafficked by the very people who should have protected them.
And then, just days after Brittney disappeared, her uncle—the last person she was known to visit—was found dead, a gunshot wound authorities ruled a suicide. A gun registered to Brittney herself.
In this episode of The Lost Girls Podcast, LaDonna Humphrey and Amy Smith expose the dark secrets that surrounded Brittney’s life, her disappearance, and the system that failed to protect her.
Because her story isn’t just rare—it’s tragically common.
And every girl deserves justice.
Some stories fade with time. But others—stories like Christina Lynn Carter’s—become heavier with every passing year.
In this episode of The Lost Girls Podcast, LaDonna Humphrey and Amy Smith take listeners back more than fifty years, to one of the most heartbreaking and haunting cases you’ve probably never heard of.
Christina—known lovingly as “Christy”—was a bright, blue-eyed little girl who vanished without a trace on September 17, 1973. She was just three years old.
There was no witness to her disappearance. No blurry photograph of her last steps. No desperate final phone call.
But three weeks later, in the stillness of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, hikers made a horrifying discovery. A discarded duffel bag... and inside it, the nude, bound body of Christy’s mother, Janet Carter—murdered by suffocation.
It took weeks for authorities to identify Janet. But when they did, the horror only deepened. Because Janet hadn’t been traveling alone.
Her little girl, Christina, was missing. And no one had even reported it.
By the time law enforcement realized what they were dealing with, the trail was cold, and the questions were endless.
Where was Christy?
Who murdered her mother?
And why had this young family seemingly vanished without a trace, unnoticed by the world?
Join LaDonna and Amy as they unravel the tragic and forgotten story of Christina Lynn Carter—a child whose life was stolen, and whose case still cries out for answers.
Because silence is not justice. And every girl deserves to be found.
Debbie's story begins on a quiet spring day in 1977—May 3rd, to be exact. She left behind a simple note for her parents, letting them know she was headed to her grandparents' nearby campsite by bicycle and that she'd be back later.
She never came home.
A friend walked part of the way with Debbie but turned back before Debbie continued west on Turnpike Road alone. The last known sighting of her was near a hill along that road. Her bike vanished with her.
As police dug into her disappearance, they discovered an unsent letter in Debbie’s school locker—addressed to a friend. It revealed she was upset and wanted to talk. Scribbled on the same paper were directions to her grandparents’ home.
What began as an ordinary ride ended in a decades-long mystery. This is the story of Debbie—one of the lost girls we will never forget.
In every town, there are stories whispered across decades—stories that leave behind more than just grief. They leave behind fear, anger, and unanswered questions that echo through generations.
This is one of those stories.
In 1981, a newlywed named Denise Palmer placed a simple ad in the newspaper to sell her wedding dress. It was a quiet, everyday act—something any young woman might do while starting fresh. But the man who answered that ad didn’t come to buy a dress. He came to take a life.
Denise was just 19. A wife. A daughter. A woman with her entire future in front of her. And in the span of a few short hours, that future was ripped away—in broad daylight, inside the safety of her mother’s home.
What happened next would haunt Tulsa for decades.
Despite witness accounts, a suspect description, and even collected evidence, Denise’s case—like so many others involving young women—slipped through the cracks of time and flawed systems.
But Denise deserves to be remembered. Her story deserves to be told.
And that’s exactly what we’re doing today.
This is The Wedding Dress Trap—the tragic, still-unsolved murder of Patricia Denise Palmer.
"She stepped into a truck and vanished into thin air. No trail. No answers. Just silence."
On May 20, 2015, 25-year-old Madelin Renee Tomlin was last seen in Hope, Arkansas—getting into a tan or gold Chevrolet pickup truck. That ordinary moment became her last known sighting. Since then, nearly a decade has passed. No confirmed sightings. No verified leads. And most heartbreakingly—no word from Madelin.
She was a devoted mother of two. A daughter. A friend. And according to those who knew her best, it was completely unlike her to disappear without a trace. Especially without reaching out to the children she loved deeply.
In this episode, we revisit the streets of Hope. We dig into the details of Madelin’s disappearance, the mystery surrounding that truck, and the haunting silence that followed. We’ll hear from people who knew her, explore theories, and ask the hard questions—why hasn’t her case received the attention it deserves? And who benefits from her being forgotten?
This is more than a missing person story. This is a story about a woman who mattered—a woman who should have been found. This is for Madelin Tomlin.
Because no one simply disappears.
And none of the lost girls should be left behind.
In this special episode of Lost Girls, we step away from a single case to confront a nationwide tragedy: the epidemic of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Relatives — known as MMIWR.
It’s a crisis rooted in history, perpetuated by silence, and fueled by systemic failure.
Across the U.S., Native women go missing or are murdered at rates exponentially higher than other groups. On some reservations, the murder rate is more than ten times the national average. Behind every statistic is a name, a face, a family shattered — and too often, no answers.
Today, we’re not just recounting what’s gone wrong. We’re honoring the fierce advocacy rising from Tribal Nations, survivors, and families who refuse to be ignored. We’ll explore how colonization, broken justice systems, and eroded sovereignty have created a perfect storm of vulnerability — and how grassroots movements, federal legislation, and unwavering voices are pushing back.
This isn’t just a Native issue — it’s a human rights issue. And it demands our collective attention.
Join us as we say their names, share their stories, and call for the justice they so rightly deserve.
Because every girl — every girl — deserves justice.
More than four decades have passed since the brutal murder of Angela Desiree Kelly, and yet—her case remains unsolved. Her story, like too many others, has faded from headlines. But for her family and community, the pain has never disappeared.
On the morning of March 28, 1979, Angela’s body was discovered along the southbound lanes of Red Bluff Road in Pasadena, Texas. Her hands were bound behind her back. She had been strangled. A calculated, cold act of violence. She was just 19 years old.
Angela's death was ruled a homicide by the Harris County Medical Examiner’s Office. But even with interviews, tips, and time, the truth has never fully come to light. No one has been held responsible.
And yet, someone out there knows something.
Angela was not just another name in a cold case file. She was a daughter, a friend—a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. Today, we remember her not for how she was found, but for the justice that has yet to come.
This is her story. And we won’t stop telling it until someone finally does the right thing.
Angela Desiree Kelly deserves justice.
Every girl does.
In this episode, we’re bringing you the story of Shari Dee Sampson Elwell, a 30-year-old Indigenous woman whose life was stolen far too soon—and whose case remains a powerful reflection of a much larger crisis.
Shari went missing in 1987. For weeks, her loved ones searched, waited, and hoped—until her body was discovered by hunters in a remote, restricted part of the Yakama Reservation near Simcoe Creek in Washington. She had been strangled. Her death became the 13th violent loss of an Indigenous woman on that reservation in just ten years.
But Shari was more than a statistic. She was a mother. A woman who had struggles, yes—but struggles that did not define her worth. Like so many others, she deserved protection. She deserved urgency. She deserved justice.
And the heartbreak didn’t end with her.
Just a few years after Shari’s murder, her father, Donnie Sampson, vanished during a hunting trip. Donnie was a respected community leader—a man serving on the Yakama Tribal Council’s Code of Ethics Committee and reportedly looking into misconduct among tribal leadership. Authorities said he likely got lost in the woods. But his family, especially his son Bruce Sampson, believe something far more sinister happened.
Two devastating tragedies. One family. Still no justice.
In this episode, we’re sharing their story—the pain, the questions, and the resilience that has carried the Sampson family through decades of grief and silence. Because remembering Shari and Donnie isn’t just about looking back. It’s about demanding better now—for them, for their family, and for every Indigenous person whose life has been stolen or silenced.
Say her name. Shari Dee Sampson Elwell.
Because every girl deserves justice.
On this episode of Lost Girls, we’re remembering Carol Hill, a vibrant 20-year-old from Philadelphia who was brutally murdered in Wildwood, New Jersey, in June 1970.
Carol had traveled to the shore for a summer getaway—but instead, her body was found beneath a roller coaster, strangled and left in the sand. Over fifty years later, her killer has never been identified.
She was last seen at the Bolero Bar, speaking with an unknown man. Though there have been leads—none have brought justice.
Carol wasn’t just a victim. She was a daughter, a friend, a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. And she deserves answers.
Say her name. Carol Hill.
Because every girl deserves justice.
She was only twelve.
It was a warm Monday—August 27, 1962—when Marion Brubaker got on her bike and rode into the woods of Coventry Township, Ohio. A place she likely thought was safe. Familiar. Close to home.
But Marion never made it back.
Later that day, a 15-year-old boy stumbled upon something that would change the quiet town forever: Marion’s body. She had been strangled—her life stolen in the most brutal, senseless way imaginable.
Sixty years have passed since that devastating discovery, but Marion’s name is still whispered in the corners of Summit County. A young girl, full of life and promise, silenced far too soon—and for what?
This is not just a cold case. It’s a wound that never healed.
In this episode of Lost Girls, we revisit Marion’s story. Not just the crime, but the community, the investigation, and the enduring impact of her death. We ask the questions that still hang in the air: Who did this? Why? And why, after all these years, has no one been held accountable?
Marion Brubaker was more than a headline. She was a daughter. A classmate. A little girl with dreams—and someone took all of that away.
It’s time to remember her. To say her name out loud. To refuse to let her case fade into history.
This is "Marion’s Ride: The Girl Who Never Came Home."
Welcome to Lost Girls.