Eighty-four-year-old Nancy Guthrie stepped through her front door for what should have been just another quiet Saturday night at home. Instead, it became the last time anyone in her family saw her alive. The man who watched her enter that door—her son-in-law Tommaso Cioni—now stands at the center of swirling questions in one of the most intense abduction investigations Arizona has seen in years.
Cioni, 50, a sixth-grade science teacher married to Nancy’s daughter Annie, dropped his mother-in-law off around 9:45 p.m. on January 31 after a family dinner. He waited until she was safely inside, then drove away with Annie. Twelve hours later, on Sunday afternoon, church friends reported her missing after she failed to show up for services—a commitment Nancy never broke.
When Pima County deputies arrived, they found a nightmare scene: forced entry at the front door, small but unmistakable spatters of blood just outside and inside the threshold, Nancy’s phone, wallet, keys, and car untouched in their usual places. Her life-saving medications—for hypertension and a pacemaker—sat abandoned on the kitchen counter. Sheriff Chris Nanos described the evidence bluntly: “She was taken against her will.”
Investigators quickly zeroed in on the timeline. The last confirmed sighting was Cioni and Annie leaving the house. Sources close to the investigation tell the New York Post that detectives have interviewed Cioni multiple times, examining every detail of that final drop-off. While the sheriff’s office publicly insists “no suspects, no persons of interest,” and stresses the family’s full cooperation, federal agents from the FBI visited Cioni and Annie’s home on Wednesday, February 4. Neighbors reported seeing unmarked vehicles and agents entering and exiting for several hours.
The scrutiny has fueled a firestorm online. Social-media sleuths have combed through old Facebook photos, unearthed Cioni’s Italian background, and dissected every public statement. One Christmas 2025 family picture—everyone in matching pajamas, Tommaso holding a black dog beside Nancy—has been reposted thousands of times with captions questioning whether the warm image hides something darker. Reddit threads speculate wildly about financial motives, marital strain, or hidden grudges. Authorities have repeatedly warned against spreading unverified rumors, yet the speculation shows no sign of slowing.
Adding fuel to the frenzy are two chilling ransom notes that surfaced Tuesday. TMZ published details of an email demanding millions in Bitcoin, including a cryptocurrency wallet address, a short deadline, explicit threats, and eerily specific knowledge: what Nancy was wearing that night and precise details of her home’s interior layout. KOLD News 13, a local CBS affiliate in Tucson, received a nearly identical message. Both outlets immediately turned the communications over to law enforcement. Cybersecurity specialists are tracing the wallet and email headers, but as of Wednesday night no payments had been detected and no proof-of-life had been provided.
The family’s raw desperation broke through on Wednesday evening. Savannah Guthrie, the co-anchor of NBC’s Today show, appeared in a tear-streaked Instagram video alongside siblings Annie and Camron. “We need to know without a doubt that she is alive and that you have her,” Savannah pleaded directly to the captor. “Please reach out to us. We are ready to talk.” She warned that AI deepfakes make verification difficult and begged for genuine evidence. Annie, voice trembling, added, “Mama, if you’re listening, we need you to come home. We miss you.” Savannah, originally scheduled to cover the Winter Olympics in Milan, canceled immediately and has remained in Arizona ever since.
That same afternoon brought another dramatic turn. Deputies and FBI agents returned to Nancy’s Catalina Foothills home—four days after initially clearing the scene and releasing it to the family. They re-taped the perimeter, deployed K9 units, and methodically searched the rugged woodland and garden behind the property. During the sweep, handlers located a single, striking piece of evidence: an antique brass key partially buried in the loose soil near the tree line. The key does not fit any lock in Nancy’s house. Forensic technicians photographed it in place, then carefully bagged it for fingerprint, DNA, and metallurgical analysis. Sheriff Nanos called the discovery “potentially very important” but urged caution, saying it could prove unrelated.
The key’s appearance has ignited fresh theories. Retired FBI agents appearing on cable news suggested it might belong to a vehicle, storage unit, or secondary location used during the abduction. Some speculated multiple perpetrators, noting that a single person would be unlikely to drop such an item unless under duress or in haste. Locksmiths in Tucson have been quietly shown images of the key; so far, no one has identified a matching style or origin.
Nancy’s medical fragility makes every passing hour agonizing. Doctors consulted by investigators warn that without her daily medications, her condition could deteriorate rapidly—potentially within days. The pacemaker, which stopped syncing with her Apple Watch around the estimated time of the abduction, provides a narrow window: sometime after 9:45 p.m. Saturday and before dawn Sunday.
Neighbors in the affluent, low-crime Catalina Foothills describe Nancy as warm but vulnerable. “She was independent, but you could tell moving around was hard for her,” one longtime resident told reporters. “I always worried someone might see her as an easy target because of who her daughter is.” Another recalled a strange noise around 2 a.m. Sunday—possibly a vehicle or scuffle—but attributed it to desert wildlife.
Surveillance has so far yielded little. Nancy’s doorbell camera was either disabled or removed before the incident. A neighbor’s Ring camera captured a dark SUV departing the area at 3:17 a.m., but the plate was unreadable. Authorities are enhancing the footage and canvassing for additional cameras along likely escape routes.
President Donald Trump weighed in Wednesday via Truth Social: “Nancy Guthrie is a great lady in a terrible situation. We’re sending the best—FBI already on it. Bring her home!” Federal resources have flooded in, including digital-forensics teams, behavioral analysts, and additional field agents.
A candlelight vigil Tuesday night drew hundreds to a Tucson park. Attendees wore “Bring Nancy Home” shirts and held signs pleading for her safe return. Savannah and her siblings joined remotely, thanking the community through tears.
As Thursday begins, the investigation remains wide open. Detectives continue re-interviewing anyone who saw Nancy in her final days—church friends, delivery drivers, even the mail carrier. The ransom notes are being treated as credible until proven otherwise. The antique key sits in a lab, its secrets yet to be unlocked. And Tommaso Cioni, the last person to see Nancy Guthrie alive, remains under quiet but intense scrutiny.
For Nancy’s family, each minute stretches into eternity. Savannah’s public pleas echo across the country, a daughter’s love colliding with unimaginable fear. Somewhere, an 84-year-old woman with a failing heart fights to survive. Somewhere, perhaps, the answers lie in that final moment at the door—or in the shadows that followed.
The nation watches, holds its breath, and prays the next headline brings her home.
