On in 1990, fourteen-year-old Rachel Hurley set out on what should have been a simple walk back to her mother. Just hours earlier, she had been laughing with friends on a boat near Jupiter Inlet—a carefree afternoon that felt like any other.

But somewhere between Dubois Park and Carlin Park, everything changed.

When Rachel’s friends stopped briefly, she ran ahead alone, less than a mile from where her mother was waiting. It was a decision any teenager might make without a second thought. She never made it to their meeting spot.

By nightfall, the search had begun. What unfolded next would leave a family shattered and a community searching for answers that, more than three decades later, still haven’t come.

In this episode, LaDonna Humphrey and Amy Smith walk through the final known moments of Rachel’s life, the small, ordinary choices that led to an unthinkable outcome, and the enduring weight of a case that remains unsolved. They explore how quickly normal can turn into tragedy—and why Rachel’s story still matters today.

If you were in Jupiter, Florida in March of 1990, or remember anything—no matter how small—please contact local law enforcement or Crime Stoppers. One detail could make the difference.

Because Rachel Hurley deserved to make it home.

And we will keep saying her name—because every girl deserves justice.

In this episode of Lost Girls, hosts Amy Smith and LaDonna Humphrey begin a deep-dive series into a case that has remained unsolved for more than four decades—the disappearance of fifteen-year-old Barbara “Barb” Louise Cotton.

On April 11, 1981, Barb vanished from Williston, North Dakota after leaving a local restaurant just blocks from home. She was a teenager with a job, close friends, and plans for her future—saving money, looking ahead to milestones, and stepping into life like so many girls her age. She never made it home.

What followed was a case filled with unanswered questions, shifting leads, and lingering uncertainty. One of the last known individuals to see Barb alive died just months later, adding another layer of complexity to an already haunting investigation.

More than forty years later, Barb has never been found. Her case remains open.

This is the first episode in a multi-part series examining the timeline, the people, and the unanswered questions surrounding Barb Cotton’s disappearance—because some stories deserve more than a single telling.

If you have any information, please contact the Williston Police Department at 701-577-1212. Barb’s case is also listed in NamUs as MP2921.

Someone knows what happened.

For more than three decades, she had no name.

On October 24, 1994, the body of a woman was discovered along railroad tracks near U.S. Highway 64 between Morrilton and Plumerville, Arkansas. She had been murdered, but investigators didn’t know who she was. No identity. No clear answers. Just a life reduced to a case file and a label: Jane Doe.

For 30 years, she remained that way.

In this episode of Lost Girls, LaDonna and Amy walk through the long road to finally restoring her name—Jamie Ann Moore of Conway, Arkansas. At just 32 years old, her life ended violently, and for decades, her story sat in silence while technology and time slowly caught up to the truth.

This case is a powerful example of what happens when persistence meets innovation. Through investigative genetic genealogy—a combination of DNA science and family history research—investigators were able to do what once seemed impossible. With the help of Parabon NanoLabs, Othram Labs, and dedicated genealogists, a path was built back to Jamie. A daughter’s DNA would ultimately confirm what so many years had left unanswered.

But identification is only the beginning.

Who was Jamie Ann Moore? What led her to that stretch of railroad tracks in 1994? And most importantly—who took her life?

This episode isn’t just about science solving a mystery. It’s about dignity. It’s about the power of giving a name back to someone the world nearly forgot. And it’s about the reality that even after 30 years, justice is still waiting.

Because no one should remain a Jane Doe forever.

In this episode of Lost Girls, we tell the story of 25-year-old Chyna Danielle Crawford — known to her loved ones as “Chay-Chay” — who disappeared from Southeast Washington, D.C., on October 23, 2023.

That day, Chyna spoke with her mother and made plans for the weekend, something that was part of their daily rhythm. She was supposed to meet a friend to go shopping but never arrived. Calls went unanswered. Her phone was turned off and could not be tracked. When police conducted a welfare check at her apartment, nothing appeared disturbed — yet Chyna was gone. Her gray 2012 Mercedes-Benz CLS 550, displaying a temporary Virginia tag, vanished with her.

Chyna was described as vibrant, close to her family, and in constant communication with her mother. She wore her hair in long dreadlocks and had two distinctive tattoos: the name “Anthony” on her hip and a heart with devil horns on the right side of her chest. In the days that followed her disappearance, fear grew quickly. The silence felt wrong.

The episode walks through the timeline, the early investigative steps, and the heartbreak of a family searching for answers in a city that never stops moving.

Important update not reflected in the original episode:

In March 2024, Lashawn “Tweety” Washington was charged with first-degree murder, kidnapping, and obstruction of justice in connection with Chyna’s disappearance. Authorities allege she and others kidnapped Crawford with the intent to rob her and ultimately killed her. In January 2026, a second suspect, Bjarni Cooper, was arrested and charged with first-degree murder, felony murder, conspiracy, armed carjacking, and armed robbery. As of February 2026, both suspects are awaiting trial.

For this episode of Lost Girls, we go back to a freezing December night in 1990, when 25-year-old Donna Lee Ingersoll ran out the back door of a house in Wabasha, Minnesota — and seemingly vanished into the cold.

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Donna had been drinking with friends that evening. Witnesses say she argued with her boyfriend, Gary Murphy, shortly before 11:45 p.m., then bolted into the night without her purse, glasses, money, or coat — despite bitterly cold temperatures. Her car, a brown 1982 Pontiac Bonneville, was left behind. An extensive search turned up nothing.

In the months that followed, grief and suspicion hung heavy. Murphy later died by suicide, though whether that tragedy connects to Donna’s disappearance remains unclear. Investigators have long considered another unsettling possibility: that Donna may never have made it out of that house at all.

She was small in stature — just under five feet tall — with blonde hair, green eyes, and a cross tattoo on her arm. A young woman with a complicated life, struggling at times with heavy drinking, but still someone’s daughter, someone’s friend, someone who mattered.

More than three decades later, Donna Lee Ingersoll’s case remains unsolved. In this episode, we revisit the timeline, the contradictions, and the questions that still linger in the silence she left behind.

Rickisha Renee Bear — Kisha — is a 19-year-old Native woman who disappeared from Pablo, Montana on February 4, 2024. She is an enrolled member of the Chippewa Cree Tribe of Rocky Boy’s Reservation. At the time she vanished, she had bright red dyed hair with dark roots, braces on her teeth, and visible tattoos — including one on the right side of her neck and another reading “Baby Girl” near her collarbone.

She had told a friend she wanted help for substance abuse. That friend even scheduled an appointment for her. But before she could make it to that appointment, she left the house during the night — and no one has heard from her since.

Fifteen years old.That’s how young Cassie Compton was when she vanished.

It was a quiet Sunday — September 14, 2014 — the day after Sydney attended the Arkansas County Demolition Derby with a friend in DeWitt, Arkansas. It should have been an ordinary weekend for a teenager — full of laughs, late-night snacks, and small-town memories. Instead, it became the last day anyone ever heard from her.

No goodbye.No explanation.Just silence.

In September of 2019, Cheyenne Stannard vanished from Huntsville, Arkansas, under circumstances that raised far more questions than answers. Known for her consistent communication with family, Cheyenne's sudden silence was immediately alarming. The story offered by those closest to her didn’t add up—claims of her leaving on foot, heading to far-off states with no transportation or resources, defied logic and left loved ones desperate for clarity.

In this episode of Lost Girls, we explore the troubling details surrounding Cheyenne’s disappearance. With no confirmed sightings, no phone activity, and no contact in over four years, the case remains unsolved—and deeply unsettling. As we share Cheyenne’s story, we also amplify the voices of those still searching for her, holding onto hope and demanding the answers she deserves.

This is Lost Girls. And this is the story of Cheyenne Stannard.

Tonight’s episode of Lost Girls takes us back to 1955 Los Angeles and the mysterious disappearance of wealthy socialite Evelyn Throsby Scott. What began as an ordinary afternoon outing with her husband would become one of the earliest and most groundbreaking no-body murder cases in American history. In this episode, we trace the red flags, the conflicting stories, the disturbing physical evidence, and the financial trail that prosecutors used to prove homicide without ever finding Evelyn’s remains. It’s a story of glamour, control, deception, and the relentless pursuit of justice — even when someone tries to make a woman disappear without a trace.

In this episode of Lost Girls, hosts LaDonna Humphrey and Amy Smith take listeners back to New York City in 1976 — into the subway tunnels of lower Manhattan and the Bronx — where a 14-year-old girl vanished just five stops from home.

Cesilia Peña was a shy, responsible student who followed the rules. She wore her school uniform. She took the same train every day. And on October 6, she never made it home.

What happened between a crowded platform and a short ride toward safety remains a haunting mystery nearly fifty years later. A reported sighting. A man questioned — and later convicted of killing another child. And a family left with questions that were never answered.

This is not a story of rebellion or running away. It’s a story of a child who disappeared in plain sight — and a city full of witnesses.

We remember Cesilia because remembering is a form of justice.
And because silence should never be the final chapter.

Today on Lost Girls, we’re talking about Angel Rose Avery, a woman who disappeared from Kennett, Missouri, and whose case has remained largely untouched by time, attention, or answers.

Angel was thirty-five years old when she was last seen on September 1, 2018. She didn’t leave behind a public trail of clues or a well-documented timeline. There were no headlines that followed her disappearance, no flood of details released to the public, and no clear explanation for why she was never heard from again. Instead, what remains is something just as troubling: very little information, and a woman who seems to have slipped quietly into the margins.

Angel is described as a petite woman, around five feet tall, with brown hair and green eyes. She may change her hair color. Her ears are pierced. These are the basic facts—what little the public has been given—but they don’t explain how a person can vanish and leave behind such a small footprint.

Cases like Angel’s force us to confront uncomfortable questions. What happens when someone goes missing and there isn’t immediate urgency? What happens when there are no press conferences, no updates, and no sustained push to keep a name in the public eye? And how many answers are lost when silence becomes the default?

This episode isn’t about speculation. It’s about acknowledgment. It’s about saying Angel Rose Avery’s name out loud and refusing to let her disappearance remain invisible.

Because even when details are scarce, a missing person still matters.
And Angel Rose Avery deserves to be remembered, talked about, and found.