The Last Bike Ride

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.

She was just 13 years old when she vanished without a trace.In this episode of The Lost Girls, we revisit the heartbreaking case of Tracy Byrd—a bright, young girl who disappeared from Bucks County, Pennsylvania, on March 7, 1983. What began as a missing child investigation quickly grew colder over the years, with early speculation clouding the urgency of her case.But Tracy didn’t simply run away. And four decades later, her disappearance still haunts her community—and demands answers.This is the story of a girl lost too soon, and the silence that followed.

In this episode of Lost Girls, LaDonna Humphrey and Amy Smith explore the heartbreaking and still-unsolved murder of 15-year-old Belinda Snowden. On July 26, 1986, Belinda's body was discovered in Jefferson County, Florida, just hours after she was last seen at a small Jr. Food Store in nearby Wakulla County. It’s been 38 years—and in all that time, there have been no arrests, no convictions, and no accountability.Belinda’s parents died without ever knowing what happened to their daughter, and her case has largely faded from the public’s memory. But on Lost Girls, her story is brought back into the light. LaDonna and Amy unpack the details of the investigation, the timeline of Belinda’s disappearance, and the devastating emotional toll on the community she left behind.This episode is a call for renewed attention, for anyone who may remember something—even the smallest detail—to come forward. Because Belinda mattered. And she still deserves justice.