What Actually Happened To Amelia Earhart?

– [Derek] As the sun
rose on July 2nd, 1937, Amelia Earhart knew she was in trouble.Over the radio, she called, “We must be on you but cannot see you.

Gas is running low.

Been unable to reach you by radio.

We are flying at 1,000 feet.

” Beneath her was water in every direction as
far as the eye could see.

She got herself into this predicament through a series of unfortunate
events and bad decisions.

Many of them could have been avoided with a better knowledge of physics.

But even so, there was one thing she could
have done in this moment, one switch she could have flipped that would likely have saved
her life and changed history.

This video is sponsored by KiwiCo.

More about them at the end of the show.

Amelia Earhart was vying to
become the first female pilot to fly around the world.

– I hope to accomplish something really scientifically
worthwhile for aviation.

– And she wasn’t taking any shortcuts.

Other successful circumnavigations had followed a northern route, mostly staying close to land.

But Earhart’s route would be the longest by following a path close to the Equator.

This meant the last part of
her journey was the hardest, crossing the full width
of the Pacific Ocean.

The starting point for
this crossing was Lae, a city on the eastern side of New Guinea.

At the time, it was one of
the world’s busiest airports, a hub of traffic from Asia and Australia.

At 10:00 am on a hot July day, Earhart piloted her Lockheed
Electra down the runway and took off on what
would be her final flight.

The Pacific Ocean is huge.

It’s way bigger than the Atlantic.

I mean, if you look at
the globe from that side, you see almost no land.

The problem was, in 1937, most planes could only fly a maximum of a few thousand kilometers, so Earhart removed everything
unnecessary from her plane.

She ripped out the
insulation to reduce weight, but that made the engine
noise so overwhelming she had to communicate with her navigator sitting right beside her using written notes.

She packed almost nothing,
telling her husband, “Extra clothes and extra food would have been extra
weight and extra worry.

” She replaced the passenger
seats with fuel tanks, effectively turning her
plane into a flying gas can.

But even so, the Electra’s maximum range was between 6,600 and 7,200
kilometers in perfect weather.

It could be just enough
to reach Hawaii from Lae, or she might come up disastrously short.

So Earhart needed a place to
stop and refuel along the way.

Now, it might seem like
there’s no land here, but if you zoom in, there is this tiny island halfway between Australia and Hawaii.

Howland Island is just
over two kilometers long and less than one kilometer wide.

The US had claimed it as part of the Guano Islands Act of 1856.

But in 1937, it was barely inhabited with just a handful of colonists.

It would be an ideal location to refuel, if only it had a runway.

Fortunately for Earhart, by the time of her
around the world flight, she was already famous.

In 1928, she became the
first female passenger to cross the Atlantic by airplane.

This made her an international celebrity.

– [Announcer] She said
she could, and she did it.

(lively music) – [Derek] But she wanted
to fly herself, saying, “Maybe someday I’ll try it alone.

” So, in 1932, she attempted to pilot a
plane solo across the Atlantic heading for Paris.

She brought with her only a toothbrush, one container of soup and
three cans of tomato juice.

(thunder booms) But storms, ice, and dense
fog battered her small plane.

A seam in the exhaust manifold cracked and flames from the engine
spewed out into the night.

Gas leaked down her
neck from a broken tank, and after 14 hours, she landed in a pasture
in Northern Ireland.

Her face was so covered in grease, a farmhand couldn’t tell if
she was a man or a woman.

He asked if she had flown far.

“From America,” she replied.

– I wish I could have done it faster.

– [Derek] These adventures brought her into the orbits of powerful people, like the First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt.

– And Mr.s.

Roosevelt, won’t you go for a ride
tonight over Washington? It’s really lovely from the air at night.

– And using her new connections, she lobbied the president to
hire her friend, Eugene Vidal, to head the Bureau of Commerce.

Vidal had promised Earhart
a runway on Howland Island, but red tape stalled progress only months before her planned takeoff.

So Earhart wrote directly
to President Roosevelt.

She explained that the airstrip funds required immediate approval, writing, “Please forgive
troublesome female flyer for whom this Howland
Island project is key to world flight attempt.

” The president approved the
project four days later, and three runways were soon cleared.

So she had a place to land, but how would she find this
tiny speck of an island in a vast ocean? Well, flying with her in the Electra was her navigator, Fred Noonan, and he would calculate the flight plan.

They knew the direction of Howland, so they could use the onboard compass to set their bearing toward it.

They knew their air speed and could figure out their ground speed by subtracting or adding the wind, and then they could calculate
how long it should take to reach the island.

This method is known as dead reckoning.

But they wouldn’t aim
directly at the island, because if they did that and they didn’t see it
at the prescribed time, they wouldn’t know in which
direction they were off.

So instead, they
intentionally picked a point either north or south of the island.

Let’s say they picked south.

They estimated the trip
would take 18 hours, so they would fly through day and night.

And once they had traveled for the calculated length of time, they could confidently turn
north and spot the island.

Before takeoff, the ground crew estimated they would encounter a headwind
of 24 kilometers per hour.

But just 20 minutes after takeoff, Lae radioed Earhart to warn that the headwinds would be stronger.

She didn’t acknowledge their message.

Knowing the correct
wind speed was critical because it would affect
how long it would take to reach the island.

If it took longer, Earhart
would have to turn later.

So she couldn’t rely
on dead reckoning alone to reach Howland.

As an independent check on their location, Noonan would take measurements
of the sun, moon, and stars.

This is known as celestial navigation.

He had an almanac that
listed 58 navigation stars and the point on Earth each
one would be directly overhead for the day and time of his measurement.

If they found themselves
directly under a navigation star, well, then they would
immediately know their position.

But generally they
would not be that lucky, so Noonan would measure
the angle above the horizon to a navigation star and use that to work out
how far away they were from the point on the Earth where that star would
be directly overhead.

So he could trace out
a circle on the globe of possible locations, and then he would measure the angle to another navigation star and draw out a second circle.

And now they must be at one of these two circle intersections.

Normally the circles were so large that only one of the intersections would be a plausible position.

That way they could continually
update their location and adjust bearings as needed.

But even with celestial navigation, errors could accumulate over long trips.

Earlier in the journey, when
Earhart crossed the Atlantic, they missed their intended
airport in hazy conditions.

Noonan’s calculations were reasonable, but small errors put them off course.

Luckily, in Africa, there were plenty of other
places to land safely.

The same could not be said for Howland.

So, for the flight across the Pacific, Earhart commandeered three US
Navy and Coast Guard ships.

The Itasca would be
stationed at Howland Island, the Ontario would be
halfway along the route, and the Swan was positioned midway between Howland and Hawaii.

The Itasca would send out smoke signals as Earhart approached to
help her spot the island.

But even more importantly, all ships were equipped with radio.

Now, in 1937, radio was
still fairly new tech.

German physicist Heinrich
Hertz discovered radio waves in the late 1880s.

He excited electrons to
oscillate back and forth in his transmitter, and a few meters away his
receiver was a loop of wire with a small gap in it.

When Hertz looked at it through
a microscope in the dark, he saw faint sparks
jumping across the gap.

The sparks were strongest when
the receiving loop was flat.

If it was vertical, then
no sparks were observed.

This demonstrated that radio
waves are transverse waves with electric and magnetic fields oscillating perpendicular to each other and perpendicular to the
direction of the wave motion.

When the receiving loop was aligned with the direction the wave was traveling, the changing magnetic
field through the loop induced an EMF that created the spark.

But if the loop was
facing the transmitter, then there was no change in
magnetic flux through the loop, and so no spark was observed.

Now, Hertz couldn’t see the
future he had ushered in.

He said, “I do not think that the wireless waves I have discovered will have any practical application.

” But within a few years, people started sending
messages using radio.

And by the 1920s, radio
entertainment broadcast took off.

Ships and planes routinely
used radio to send Morse code, and some, including Earhart, could send and receive voice messages.

In fact, Earhart had five radio
antennas around the plane, each for a specific purpose.

The largest antenna could
be reeled in and out like a fishing line behind the plane.

It was 76 meters long, which was necessary to efficiently send and receive Morse code via the 4 or 500 kilohertz radio waves used by ships and remote stations.

Ideally, an antenna should be
at least 1/4 of the wavelength of the radio wave it’s
transmitting or receiving.

This improves the efficiency of the conversion from electrical energy to radiated electromagnetic energy.

Earhart’s trailing antenna was only around 1/8 of the wavelength.

But it was connected to
a high-power transmitter, so its signals could still be detected over 1,000 kilometers away.

Next were two antennas
for voice communications on higher frequencies.

A transmitting V antenna
on the roof of the plane and a receiving antenna along its belly.

Higher frequencies were
useful for two reasons.

First, they require smaller antennas, which save weight and can
be better accommodated on small sparse planes.

And second, high frequency radio waves can travel long distances by bouncing off a layer of the atmosphere called the ionosphere.

Starting about 50 kilometers
above Earth’s surface, radiation from the Sun splits
electrons off molecules forming a layer of ions
and free electrons.

Radio waves with certain frequencies interact with these free electrons and are effectively
reflected back to Earth.

It’s as if they’ve bounced off a big wobbly mirror in the sky.

This effect is called skipping and it scatters radio
waves all over the place.

These radio waves can
then reflect off the ocean and back off the ionosphere, making multiple hops to travel
thousands of kilometers.

During the daytime, the intense radiation from the sun means the ionosphere starts
lower in denser atmosphere.

And because of this, lower frequency radio
waves are more likely to be absorbed than reflected.

So aviators would typically
use the higher 6210 kilohertz to skip their signals during the day, and then the lower 3105 kilohertz at night once the bottom of the
ionosphere had lifted into thinner air.

Four hours after takeoff, Earhart radioed an update to Lae on her daytime frequency of 6210.

She reported her altitude at 7,000 feet and speed at 140 knots before concluding with her typical sign-off, “Everything okay.

” But she never acknowledged calls from Lae about the headwind.

They radioed again at 11:20 and 12:20, but never got a response from Earhart.

In all likelihood, she never heard them.

She did radio six hours into her flight to report stronger headwinds, but she makes no mention
of Lae’s earlier warnings.

It’s possible the receiving belly antenna was broken, fell off, or something in the receiving
electronics wasn’t working.

But her ability to receive voice messages was clearly impaired.

Nine hours into the flight, Earhart expected to come upon the Ontario.

She listened for Morse
code Ns on 400 kilohertz, but she heard nothing.

The original plan was that the Ontario would
wait for her to radio them to request that they start transmitting.

But the day before takeoff, Earhart realized she had made a mistake.

The Ontario had told her they wouldn’t be able to receive
any high frequency signals, which meant no voice communication.

So she sent an urgent
telegram asking the Ontario to transmit the Morse code Ns repeatedly 10 minutes after each hour.

The purpose of the Morse
code from the Ontario was actually to allow Amelia Earhart to make use of her two final antennas.

So she had a loop antenna
just like this one and a sense antenna.

These were designed to allow her to locate the source of radio waves.

This was the final and most critical way that Earhart planned to stay on course and locate Howland Island.

She wrote, “I doubt if I’d try the flight to tiny Howland Island without it supplementing
Fred Noonan’s skill.

” Woo.

Alright, so I have an antenna here and I’m aligning it
vertically in this tree.

How are we, how are we there? So the Ontario was sending
out Morse code signals on their antenna, and here we have a transmitter
tuned to about 3.

6 megahertz.

I’m gonna put on this blindfold and use the loop antenna to
try to locate the transmitter.

And because I already know
where the transmitter is, we’ll spin me around a few
times to really disorient me.

So, Clifford.

Oh, sorry.

– [Clifford] Oh, which way are you going? – Alright.

Whoa, I’m a bit dizzy.

So the radio waves are gonna
be emitted in all directions radially away from the antenna, the electric field will be
oscillating up and down, and the magnetic field will
be oscillating back and forth.

So if I hold up this loop like this sort of parallel to the direction that the waves are traveling, then the magnetic field
is gonna be changing through the loop.

And because of that, it’s going to create an EMF and current and I can pick that up because I’m tuned to the
right frequency here.

So I got a fairly strong signal.

Woo, it’s very strong.

But if I rotate the loop like that, well, now the magnetic field
is oscillating back and forth but not changing through the loop itself because it’s parallel to the loop.

And so, in this orientation,
I’m gonna get a null reading.

If I turn it this way, there’s a null.

But if you turn it 90 degrees, now all the magnetic field
is passing through this loop and so I can hear a maximum here.

So this is what Earhart wanted to measure using her loop antenna to detect the repeated N
Morse code from the Ontario.

She would turn it until she found the null and then she would know
the direction to the ship.

Something that’s interesting
is, if I turn it away, we get another null because again there’s no magnetic flux
passing through this loop.

Now, the first time she
picked up the signal, she would probably be heading
straight towards the ship or close enough, so she would know that
it’s roughly that way.

But there’s a chance
that she’s gone past it.

And if you go past it, well,
then you also get a null, but the ship is behind
you, not in front of you.

So that’s where the
sense antenna comes in.

The sense antenna gives you
a cardioid pickup pattern so it has a single null
instead of two nulls, and so that allows you to determine whether it is in front or behind you.

– [Clifford] If you walk a bit, you’ll know if it’s
getting weaker or stronger.

– Alright, I feel like I’ve
picked the wrong direction.

I’ll try the sense antenna to
see if I can figure it out.

With the sense antenna, the only null points directly
away from the transmitter, so it’s easy to use the sense antenna to check which null is correct but then only use the loop when navigating because it gives a sharper null.

I think using the sense antenna that the transmitter’s
right in front of me now.

I’m looking for another null here.

Oh, there’s a null.

– [Clifford] Give it a go.

– There, there.

Definitely louder, louder.

Oh, it’s funny ’cause
you move a little bit and then you start hearing signal again.

This does not feel like I’m
walking in the right direction.

– [Clifford] Well, that’s
either the right way to go or it’s the wrong way to go.

– Oh no.

(Clifford laughs) – Trying to fly a plane and
do this would be very hard, especially with the sound of that engine would have been roaring.

Oh, I feel like it’s getting loud.

It’s really loud here.

It drops out right there.

I mean, there’s a null here.

And I was convinced
this was the right way.

Yeah, this is a clear null right here.

Whoa.

Loud, loud, loud.

I feel like I’ve gotta be close.

(antenna humming) It’s gotta be like right here.

Whoa! Ah! (laughs) This worked amazingly well.

I had no idea I was that
close, that’s impressive.

– On the nail.

– That’s awesome.

Now, aviators could have used
where the signal is loudest and try to go in that direction, but it’s actually easier
to get a precise null, a point where the signal drops out.

The loud section could
range for quite a distance and so you wouldn’t
really know where it is, but the null is more precise so that’s why they
would look for the point where the signal drops out.

If Earhart could hone in on the Ontario using her radio direction finding loop, that would ensure she was on course and eliminate any navigation errors that may have occurred to that point.

But her telegram asking the Ontario to transmit 10 minutes after each hour didn’t make it to the ship in time.

And since Earhart couldn’t
talk to the Ontario, they never sent out any signals.

So they passed like ships in the night.

By this point, Earhart was
around halfway to Howland.

With no other landing strips
within 1,000 kilometers, she would have to find the tiny
island or return to Lae now.

But multiple delays had
already plagued her journey.

In fact, this was not
Earhart’s first attempt to fly around the world.

Earlier that year, in March of 1937, she had taken off from
California for Hawaii, heading west instead of east.

On board were Fred Noonan and another crew member, Harry Manning.

As a Merchant Marine captain, he was an expert in radio, Morse code, and traditional navigation.

He was also a pilot.

The flight to Hawaii was successful thanks in part to Manning
using the loop antenna to hone in on a radio beacon
on the destination island.

Three days later, the trio
set off for Howland Island.

But just as they were taking off, the plane drifted to the right.

Earhart corrected by
throttling back the left motor, but it was too much.

The plane turned to the left and the right wing dipped down.

Going up on one wheel, the
right landing gear collapsed, then the left.

The plane skidded out on its belly, spinning around to face
the way it had come.

Thankfully, no one was hurt, but the Electra took months to repair.

And during that time, the
seasonal winds shifted.

So, on her next attempt, Earhart would have to
fly east instead of west.

And most importantly, Captain
Manning left the crew.

Officially, the press reported that he needed to return
to the Merchant Marines, but rumors spread that he had
lost confidence in Earhart, or that Earhart believed Noonan was a better navigator than Manning and she could operate
the radio on her own.

Whatever the case, when Earhart took off
again three months later, she was accompanied only by Noonan.

And now they had made it 80%
of the way around the world.

And in the dark of night, Earhart had to make the critical decision whether to keep going or turn back.

The lack of signal from the Ontario must have been concerning, but maybe they never got her telegram.

And she knew that at Howland, the Itasca would be
transmitting the letter A over Morse code every half hour, even if they didn’t hear from her.

And they could send and
receive voice signals.

They promised to be ready on a range of different frequencies.

So she flew on.

Around 6:15 am local time, radiomen aboard the Itasca
heard Earhart clearly.

“Please take a bearing on 3105.

We’ll whistle into the mic.

We are about 200 miles out.

” She then began to whistle.

But the men were confused.

They expected Earhart to
take a bearing on them, not the other way around.

And while they had told her that they had radio
direction finding equipment, the signal needed to be lower frequency, between 270 and 550 kilohertz.

Her voice frequency would
skip off the ionosphere and reflect off the ocean, scattering in all directions.

So there would be no way to find a null because the signal would be coming literally from everywhere.

In the Electra, Earhart heard only static.

By now, she must have been worried that they hadn’t heard
anything from either ship.

Almost blind from the rising sun and deaf from the roar of the engines, Earhart twisted the radio dial, listening for Itasca’s response.

Nothing.

She may have expected Howland to have a high frequency
radio direction finder called an Adcock antenna array.

These systems solve the skipping problem with five vertical antennas at the corners and center of a square.

The direction of the radio wave can be calculated from the
slightly different arrival times and signal strengths at each antenna.

But these antennas were massive, so they were really only
installed at larger airports.

Now, as it happens, there was a portable high
frequency radio direction finder on Howland Island, but the operator reported
that Earhart’s transmissions didn’t last long enough
for him to take a bearing.

And trying to conserve his low battery, he missed parts of the
later transmissions.

Around 6:45, Earhart again asked them to take a bearing on 3105 kilohertz and report back in a half hour.

But a bearing taken now and
reported back in a half hour would be at best outdated
and at worst misleading.

This confusion likely had
to do with time zones.

Earhart was using Greenwich Civil Time, but the Itasca set their clocks
to their current position which was GCT -11.

5 hours.

And to make matters worse, Howland Island used Hawaii Time, which back in those days
was GCT -10.

5 hours.

So the three parties
attempting a rendezvous on a tiny island in the
middle of the Pacific were on three different time zones.

And crucially, Earhart’s
hours didn’t even line up with the others.

Earhart told the Itasca
she would be using GCT, but somehow it never
made it to the radiomen.

So, when the Itasca
heard Earhart’s request, it was 6:45 am But in the cockpit, it was 6:15 pm So Earhart likely didn’t
say “in a half hour” but “on the half hour,” which for her was only 15 minutes away.

And also it was a prearranged time that Earhart would be listening for them.

Earhart was careful to set
times she would transmit and times she would listen for the ship because she could only
power one antenna at a time.

And the ships used the same antenna for receiving and transmitting, so if they both broadcasted
at the same time, they would miss each other’s messages.

If Earhart sent another message at a quarter after the hour, the Itasca blocked it
with their own message.

“Cannot take a bearing on 3105 very good.

Please send on 500, or do you
wish to take a bearing on us? Go ahead please.

” There was no response.

But she couldn’t transmit
on 500 kilohertz anyway because she had removed
the long trailing antenna that could transmit lower frequencies.

Since it could only be
used for Morse code, something neither she nor Noonan were particularly well versed in, she saw it as dead weight
after Manning left.

So, after the Hawaii crash,
it was removed during repairs.

So she had no way of sending radio waves that would allow the Itasca
to take a bearing on her.

But she could take a bearing on the Itasca using her loop antenna, if they sent her the right frequency.

Before the trip, the
Itasca had asked Earhart to specify the frequency
they should broadcast.

Earhart was unsure, so she consulted a radio expert in Lae and they recommended the
Itasca send Morse code A, just repeated dot dashes, on the half hour at 750.

But at that time it was typical
to talk about radio waves using their wavelength, so the expert had meant 750
meters or 400 kilohertz.

But Earhart made a terrible mistake relaying this plan to the Itasca.

She requested the signal
be sent on 7,500 kilohertz instead of 750 meters or 400 kilohertz.

But she did explicitly say, “If frequencies mentioned
unsuitable, inform me.

” But no one ever corrected her.

At 7:42 am, Earhart’s voice came through so loud men even went above deck to
see if they could hear a motor or spot the plane.

She said, “We must be on
you but cannot see you.

But gas is running low.

Been unable to reach you by radio.

We are flying at 1,000 feet.

” On Howland, the high frequency
radio direction finder was so low on battery the radiomen didn’t even
hear Earhart’s message, much less take a bearing on it.

10 minutes later, Earhart said, “We are circling but cannot hear you.

Go ahead on 7,500.

” The Itasca immediately
sent As on 7,500 kilohertz.

In the Electra, Earhart
heard the stutter stop of As filling the cabin.

The relief of finally hearing something must have been overwhelming.

She quickly turned her
radio direction finding loop to locate the null, but the signal never dropped out.

The frequency was too high, so the radio waves from
the Itasca were reflecting and arriving from different directions.

Joseph Gurr, a radio mechanic
who worked on Earhart’s plane, later said that they knew
there were limitations to high frequencies which had a tendency to skip and bend, creating a false radio direction bearing.

Without a minimum, she was still lost.

Earhart frantically called Itasca.

“We received your signals
but unable to get a minimum.

Please take a bearing on
us and answer with voice.

” Itasca attempted to explain the problem.

“Your signals received okay.

It is impractical to take
a bearing on your voice.

” No response.

Without the belly antenna, she probably never heard
any of their communications.

And it wouldn’t have mattered if the Itasca had sent
low frequency signals because Earhart’s loop was tuned
to pick up 7,500 kilohertz.

So, why didn’t the Itasca correct the frequency she suggested? Commander Thompson of the Itasca was aware of her radio
direction finding limits.

He had received messages both from Earhart’s
husband, George Putnam, and the Coast Guard’s
San Francisco division stating Earhart could only take bearings on frequencies between
200 and 1,500 kilohertz.

But he either thought Earhart knew more about her radio equipment, or that it wasn’t his
place to make suggestions and take more responsibility
for her flight.

When she asked the Itasca to tell her if these
frequencies weren’t suitable, she could have been referring
to the ship’s capabilities rather than her own.

The Itasca said they’d be ready on the frequencies she wanted and more instead of giving specific suggestions.

San Francisco’s Coast Guard division tried to get Commander Thompson
to take more responsibility for Earhart’s radio communications by suggesting they directly tell Earhart which frequencies to use.

But Thompson essentially
told them to butt out.

The Itasca communicated directly
with Earhart from then on.

The radiomen continued
to try to reach Earhart, and just before 9:00 am, Earhart’s voice suddenly
burst through again.

“We are on the line 157-337.

We will repeat this on 6,210 kilohertz.

We are running on line north and south.

” Her voice was desperate.

It sounded as if she was about to burst into tears or scream.

This was the last
message the Itasca heard.

There are a number of conspiracy theories about what happened to Earhart after that, but the evidence seems clear.

She ran out of fuel
somewhere over the Pacific and crashed into the sea.

Two hours after her last message, the Itasca left Howland to search north and west for the Electra.

Other Navy and Coast
Guard ships and planes joined the search for over two weeks.

To that point in US history, it was the most intensive and expensive search and rescue operation, costing around $4 million, which is almost 100
million in today’s money.

No one has ever found a
trace of Noonan, Earhart, or her Electra.

All of these mistakes
could have been resolved if Earhart had two-way communication, but her belly antenna
somehow malfunctioned.

Some theories suggest it fell off during takeoff in New Guinea, but without physical evidence, it’s impossible to say.

But Earhart did confirm receiving signals on her loop antenna.

Her loop could only direction
find with lower frequencies, but it could receive
signals on a wide range.

If she had switched to using the loop for all communications, she could have received
Itasca’s voice messages and then the Itasca could have requested she take a bearing on a lower frequency, which would have guided her
safely to Howland Island.

When I began researching this video, I expected to find that Amelia Earhart’s
demise was inevitable.

That what she was trying
to do was just so difficult that nothing could have saved her.

But instead, I found the opposite.

There were at least a half dozen things that if they went differently would have allowed her to land safely.

So to me, this story
comes down to two things.

Knowledge and responsibility.

Earhart lacked knowledge of radio systems, which would’ve allowed her to specify the right direction finding frequency.

But Commander Thompson of the
Itasca had that knowledge.

He knew her direction finding limits, but he didn’t take on the
responsibility to correct her.

When attempting any challenging endeavor, you need someone with the right knowledge who will also take responsibility
for getting things right.

That’s what you need to battle the inherent chaos
and disorder of the universe.

Otherwise, what you get is disaster.

This video was sponsored by KiwiCo, so I thought it would be appropriate to build their
radio-controlled delivery bot.

But my oldest kid was
out for the afternoon, so I sat down to make it by myself, but very quickly I was joined by my 4-year-old and 6-year-old who were really excited to help.

In the summer of 1998, a mother turned away from her kitchen window for just 90 seconds to stir a pot on the stove.

When she looked back, her 7-year-old daughter was gone from the backyard swing.

The child who needed insulin shots twice a day to survive had vanished without a scream, without a struggle, without a trace.

And the only person who saw what happened was a 4-year-old girl watching from her bedroom window.

A little girl no one believed.

This is the story of Lily Carson.

A story about how quickly a life can disappear and about a small town in Utah that learned the hardest way possible that danger doesn’t always announce itself.

Sometimes it comes quietly.

Sometimes it happens in broad daylight.

And sometimes the only voice telling the truth belongs to a child too young for anyone to take seriously.

Cedar Springs, Utah, population 3,200.

A town where Main Street had one stoplight.

Where the biggest event of the year was the Fourth of July parade.

The kind of place people moved to for safety, for community, for the promise that nothing bad could ever happen here.

Maple Street sat on the quiet east side of town.

Old cottonwood trees, modest homes with front porches.

Kids rode bikes until dark.

Neighbors borrowed sugar and lawnmowers.

Everyone knew everyone, and everyone trusted everyone.

The Carson family lived in a pale yellow house halfway down the block.

Jennifer Carson was 32.

She worked part-time at the public library, shelved books, helped patrons, wore her brown hair in a practical ponytail.

Patient and kind, the type of mother who never missed a school event.

Mark Carson was 35, manager of Carson Hardware on Main Street.

His father had started the business 40 years ago.

Mark knew every customer by name, solid and dependable.

He coached little league on weekends, fixed things around the house without being asked.

They had two daughters.

Lily was seven.

Emma was four.

Lily was small for her age.

Long blonde hair her mother braided every morning.

Blue eyes that always seemed thoughtful.

She was quiet.

Preferred reading to playing outside.

Drew pictures constantly.

Horses and castles and families holding hands.

Her teachers called her responsible, the kind of child who never caused trouble.

But Lily carried a burden most 7-year-olds never had to think about.

She had type 1 diabetes.

Diagnosed when she was five, her pancreas didn’t produce insulin.

Without it, her blood sugar would climb dangerously high.

Keto acidosis, coma, death.

Jennifer kept a rigid schedule.

Blood sugar checks four times a day, insulin injections twice daily.

Morning before breakfast, evening before dinner.

She counted every carbohydrate Lily ate.

Carried emergency glucose tablets everywhere.

Lily wore a medical alert bracelet, silver chain, red letters, diabetic, insulin dependent.

Jennifer made sure the people in Lily’s daily life knew.

teachers at school, the school nurse, parents of Lily’s close, friends, families they saw regularly at church.

She kept extra supplies at Lily’s classroom, at her mother’s house.

She was terrified of something going wrong when she wasn’t there.

Terrified of losing her daughter to a disease she couldn’t see or control.

But not everyone on Maple Street knew about Lily’s condition.

The neighbors she only waved to from a distance.

The elderly couples without children who kept to themselves.

People who saw Lily playing outside but never spent time with her up close.

They might have noticed the bracelet if they looked carefully.

But most people didn’t.

Emma was different from her sister in every way.

Wild brown curls, energy that never ran out.

She talked constantly, asked endless questions.

She followed Lily everywhere, wanted to do everything her big sister did.

The girls shared a bedroom at the back of the house, bunk beds with pink sheets, Lily on top, Emma on bottom.

The room had one window that looked out over the backyard.

Emma liked to sit on the bottom bunk and stare out that window for hours.

She watched squirrels.

She watched birds.

She watched her big sister play.

Our community in Cedar Springs believed in looking out for each other.

Women organized meal trains when someone got sick.

Men helped fix cars.

Kids played together while parents chatted over coffee.

It was the kind of place where you didn’t lock your doors.

Where you trusted your neighbors because why wouldn’t you? Maple Street was especially close.

Everyone watched out for everyone else’s children.

It was safe.

It was home.

Nothing bad ever happened on Maple Street until July 14th, 1998.

That afternoon was hot, the kind of dry Utah heat that made the air shimmer.

Temperature hit 92° by 3:00.

Jennifer had the day off from the library.

She planned to make dinner early.

Mark was working late doing inventory.

At 3:00, Lily had her insulin shot.

Jennifer checked her blood sugar first.

118.

Perfect.

She gave Lily the injection.

Quick pinch.

Lily didn’t even flinch anymore.

After the shot, Jennifer let the girls have popsicles.

They sat on the back porch steps, red sticky fingers, happy.

Around 4:15, Jennifer sent the girls outside to play.

Go burn off some energy before dinner.

Lily went to the swing set.

She loved the swing.

She could pump her legs and go high.

Feel like she was flying.

Emma wanted to go, too.

But Jennifer said, “No.

You’re too little for the big swing.

Play in your room for a while.

” Emma pouted, but obeyed.

She went to the bedroom, climbed onto the bottom bunk, pressed her face against the window screen.

She could see the whole backyard from there.

The swing set, the fence, the alley, and parts of the neighboring yards.

Jennifer went to the kitchen.

She pulled out ingredients for spaghetti.

Lily’s favorite.

She filled a pot with water, put it on the stove, started chopping vegetables, onions, garlic, bell peppers.

She glanced out the window every minute or so.

She could see Lily on the swing.

Blonde braids flying.

Everything was fine.

At 4:30, the phone rang.

Her mother calling to remind her about Sunday dinner.

Jennifer talked while she stirred the pot.

She kept glancing out the window.

Lily was still swinging.

The call lasted maybe 90 seconds.

When Jennifer hung up, she went back to the stove.

She stirred the sauce, added oregano, tasted it, needed salt.

She turned to the cabinet, grabbed the salt shaker, turned back to the stove.

Then she looked out the window again.

The swing was empty, moving slightly, like someone had just gotten off.

Jennifer felt a flicker of unease.

She walked to the back door, opened it.

Lily? No answer.

Lily, where are you? Maybe she went inside.

Jennifer checked the house.

Living room empty.

Bathroom empty.

The girl’s bedroom empty.

Her unease turned to worry.

Lily.

Her voice was louder now.

Lily, answer me right now.

Emma appeared in the hallway.

Her face was pale.

Mommy, what? Honey, I saw something.

Jennifer’s heart started beating faster.

What do you mean? I was watching from the window.

Lily left.

What do you mean she left? Where did she go? Emma pointed toward the bedroom.

Come see.

Jennifer followed.

Emma climbed onto the bottom bunk, pointed out the window.

I saw a lady.

She came to the fence.

She called Lily.

Lily got off the swing and walked over.

What lady? Emma.

Who did you see? I don’t know.

She had a really big hat.

I couldn’t see her face.

What did she look like? Emma scrunched up her face, trying to remember.

A blue dress, I think, and the big hat like this.

She made a circle above her head with her arms.

Jennifer’s mind raced.

Who could it be? Where did they go? Emma pointed toward the back of the yard.

They went that way toward the alley.

Did you see where they went after that? Emma shook her head.

No, the fence was in the way.

But mommy, there’s something else.

What? Emma’s voice dropped to a whisper.

I saw a blue monster.

A blue monster? What are you talking about? Emma nodded seriously.

A big blue monster.

It was in the alley.

It made a really loud noise.

Then it went away really fast.

Emma, was it a truck? Was it a blue truck? Emma thought about this, then nodded.

Maybe.

It looked like the big trucks at Daddy’s store.

Did you see who was driving it? Emma shook her head.

I couldn’t see.

Which way did it go? Emma pointed.

That way, down the alley.

Jennifer’s hands started shaking.

She ran outside.

Lily,” she screamed at this time.

“Liy Carson, you answer me right now.

” “Nothing.

” She ran to the nearest neighbor.

Mr.s.

Rodriguez pounded on the door.

“Have you seen Lily?” Jennifer’s voice was panicked.

Mr.s.

Rodriguez looked concerned.

“No.

Why? What’s wrong?” “She’s missing.

I can’t find her.

Emma says she saw someone take her.

” Mr.s.

Rodriguez’s hand went to her mouth.

Take her? Who? I don’t know.

Emma saw a woman in a big hat and a blue truck.

Mr.s.

Rodriguez stepped outside.

I’ll help you look.

She called to her boys.

Within minutes, half the street was searching.

People checked yards, garages.

They called Lily’s name.

The sound echoed down the block.

Desperate, urgent.

Jennifer ran back home.

She needed to call Mark.

She needed to call the police.

Her hands were shaking.

Mark answered on the first ring.

Carson Hardware.

Mark, you need to come home right now.

What’s wrong? Lily’s missing.

What? I looked away for just a minute.

Emma says someone took her.

A woman.

And there was a blue truck.

Mark’s voice changed.

I’m coming.

Call the police.

Jennifer dialed 911.

My daughter is missing.

She’s 7 years old.

Someone took her from our backyard.

How long has she been missing? Maybe 15 minutes.

20 at most.

Jennifer remembered the most important thing.

She has diabetes, type 1.

She needs insulin shots.

If she doesn’t get her evening shot by 6, her blood sugar will spike.

She could die.

The dispatcher’s tone became urgent.

Officers are on the way.

stay at your house.

Jennifer couldn’t stay still.

Neighbors were everywhere now, searching, calling.

Everyone was helping.

Everyone was terrified.

Mark’s truck screeched to a stop.

He jumped out.

Where is she? Jennifer was crying.

I don’t know.

I’ve looked everywhere.

Mark ran inside, found Emma sitting on her bed.

Emma, I need you to tell me what you saw.

A lady came.

She called Lily.

Lily went with her.

What did the lady look like? She had a big hat.

I couldn’t see her face.

What was she wearing? A blue dress, I think.

And the hat was really big.

Where did they go? Emma pointed out the window.

That way, to the alley.

Did you see a truck? Emma nodded.

A blue monster truck.

It was loud.

Mark ran outside.

He ran to the alley, looked both ways, empty tire tracks crisscrossed everywhere, impossible to tell which were fresh.

Lily, his voice echoed.

Lily, daddy’s here.

Answer me.

Police sirens wailed in the distance.

Two patrol cars pulled onto Maple Street, lights flashing.

Four officers got out.

Chief Samuel Brooks was one of them, 50 years old, 25 years with Cedar Springs PD.

He walked up to Mark and Jennifer.

“Tell me everything,” Jennifer explained.

“I was making dinner.

Lily was on the backyard swing.

I looked away for maybe 90 seconds.

When I looked back, she was gone.

Emma saw something from her bedroom window.

” The chief turned to Emma.

“Hi, Emma.

Can you tell me what you saw?” “I saw a lady.

She came to the fence.

She called Lily.

Lily went to her.

What did the lady look like? She had a big blue dress and a really big hat.

Could you see her face? Emma shook her head.

The hat was too big.

Do you know who she was? Emma hesitated, then shook her head again.

I couldn’t tell.

Did you see anything else? Emma nodded.

I saw a blue monster truck in the alley.

It made a loud noise.

Then it drove away.

“Which direction?” Emma pointed.

“That way.

” The chief radioed his officers.

“We’re looking for a blue truck, large, last seen in the alley behind Maple Street, heading east.

Also looking for a woman, blue dress, large brimmed hat, possibly connected to the missing child.

” He turned back to Mark.

“Your daughter has a medical condition,” Jennifer answered.

type 1 diabetes.

She needs insulin injections twice a day.

If she doesn’t get her evening shot by 6:00, she’ll be in serious danger.

” The chief looked at his watch.

5:00.

How serious.

If her blood sugar gets too high, she’ll go into diabetic ketoacidosis.

Her body will start shutting down.

She could have seizures.

She could slip into a coma.

She could die.

How long do we have? Maybe a few hours, maybe less.

The chief’s expression hardened.

We’re treating this as a critical abduction.

Time-sensitive medical emergency.

He turned to his officers.

I want every house on this street searched.

I want roadblocks on every exit out of town.

I want every blue truck in Cedar Springs located and checked now.

Officers scattered.

The chief stayed with Mark and Jennifer.

Does Lily know anyone who drives a blue truck? Has anyone shown unusual interest in her? Any strangers hanging around? Mark and Jennifer looked at each other.

Both shook their heads.

The chief turned back to Emma.

Honey, are you absolutely sure about what you saw? Emma nodded.

I saw the lady and I saw the blue monster.

But the chief had worked with child witnesses before.

Four-year-olds were notoriously unreliable.

Their imaginations were vivid.

They confused dreams with reality.

But Emma seemed certain, and they had to follow every lead.

Within an hour, the search had spread across the entire east side of Cedar Springs.

Volunteers joined from all over town.

Parents from Lily’s school, members of the church, complete strangers who heard about a missing diabetic child.

They formed search lines.

They walked through fields.

They checked abandoned buildings.

They called Lily’s name until their voices went horsearo.

Two neighbors came forward.

They’d seen a blue truck in the alley that afternoon around 3:30 or 4.

It was driving slowly like it was looking for something.

One neighbor thought it was a Chevy, late 80s, faded paint.

The other remembered seeing a man driving, white male, baseball cap pulled low, couldn’t see his face.

The chief put out an alert.

Blue Chevy truck, late8s model, driver is a white male, 30-ish, baseball cap, possibly involved in child abduction.

Every officer in the county started looking.

How many blue Chevy trucks could there be? As it turned out, dozens.

This was rural Utah.

Everyone drove trucks.

By 6:00, Lily had officially missed her evening insulin shot.

Jennifer sat on the front porch, rocking back and forth, holding Emma, crying silently.

Mark was still with the search teams.

He couldn’t sit still.

He searched the same places over and over, hoping Lily would suddenly appear.

The sun was setting.

Search lights swept across empty lots.

Helicopters circled overhead.

Every officer, every volunteer, every neighbor.

All of them looking for one small 7-year-old girl.

A girl who could be dying without her medicine.

A girl who had vanished in broad daylight.

Emma sat in her mother’s lap, staring out at the darkening street.

She didn’t understand why no one believed her.

She knew what she saw.

The lady came to the fence.

Lily went with her.

The blue monster drove away.

She pressed her face against her mother’s shoulder.

I saw it, Mommy.

I really saw it.

I promise.

But as night fell over Cedar Springs, one thing became clear.

Lily Carson was gone.

And whoever took her had disappeared completely, taking with them a child who had maybe hours to live without her medication.

And the only clues they had were the words of a little girl.

A little girl no one fully believed.

By midnight, the temperature had dropped sharply.

The desert air turned cold.

Search teams were still combing through empty fields and dark alleys.

Flashlight beams swept across chainlink fences and abandoned sheds.

Volunteers were exhausted, their voices hoarse from calling Lily’s name for 8 hours straight.

But no one wanted to stop.

Not when a little girl’s life depended on finding her.

Jennifer sat at the kitchen table.

She hadn’t moved in 2 hours.

A cold cup of coffee sat untouched in front of her.

Mark paced the living room.

back and forth, back and forth.

He couldn’t sit down, couldn’t stop moving.

Emma had finally fallen asleep on the couch, clutching her stuffed rabbit, her face still wet with tears.

Chief Brooks came to the house just after midnight.

He looked tired, his uniform wrinkled, his face grim.

He sat down across from Jennifer.

We’ve searched every house within a 2-m radius.

We’ve set up roadblocks on all highways leading out of town.

We’ve checked every blue truck registered in the county.

And Mark stopped pacing.

Chief Brooks shook his head.

Nothing.

We found three blue Chevy trucks matching the description.

We questioned all the owners.

All of them have solid alibis.

None of them were anywhere near Maple Street this afternoon.

Jennifer’s voice was barely a whisper.

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