This week on LOTW, Becky and Bevy discuss a case that asks how someone can vanish in the middle of an ordinary workday — without anyone noticing until it’s too late.

Brooke Wilberger was nineteen years old, home for the summer in Corvallis, Oregon after finishing her first year of college. She was close with her family, independent, and excited about what came next. That summer, she worked alongside her sister at a local apartment complex — cleaning units, preparing them for new tenants, filling her days with routine tasks and familiar company.

One afternoon, Brooke stepped outside to continue her work. Nothing unusual. Nothing urgent. Just another shift in a quiet college town.

But when her sister went to look for her later, Brooke was gone.

No explanation. No goodbye. Just absence — in a place where she should have been easy to find.

What began as a simple missing person search would grow into a case that lingered for years, raising unsettling questions about opportunity, timing, and how quickly someone can disappear from a life they were actively living.

This week on LOTW, Becky and Bevy discuss a case that asks a terrifying question — how far does trust reach inside a quiet neighborhood?

Eight-year-old Sandra Cantu lived in Tracy, California — a small, close-knit community where kids rode bikes outside and neighbors waved from their driveways. She was playful, social, and known around the neighborhood. The kind of child people assumed was safe simply because of where she lived.

One afternoon, Sandra headed outside to play. It was ordinary. Familiar. Nothing about the day suggested it would end differently from all the others.

But as hours passed and she didn’t return home, routine concern shifted into something heavier. Searches began. Questions spread. And behind the doors of a seemingly peaceful street, a story began unfolding that would leave investigators — and a community — struggling to understand what had really happened.

This week on LOTW, Becky and Bevy discuss a case that asks what can happen in the small window of time between saying “I’m heading home” and actually arriving there.

Morgan Harrington was excited for a night out — a Metallica concert, a packed arena, loud music, bright lights, and thousands of people moving together. It was the kind of night that should have ended with ringing ears and a story to tell the next morning.

Hannah Graham’s night was quieter. A party with friends. A few drinks. A decision to head home early because she wasn’t feeling well. Just a short walk through familiar streets — nothing out of the ordinary.

Two separate nights. Two ordinary decisions. Two young women who never expected their routines to be interrupted.

But in the days that followed, unanswered messages, empty rooms, and growing concern began to pull families, friends, and investigators into something far darker than anyone anticipated.

Sometimes the most dangerous moment…
is the one that feels completely normal.