Five weeks after 84-year-old Nancy Guthrie was snatched from outside her Tucson home, the Pima County Sheriff says he believes he knows why she was targeted. He just won't say why.
Sheriff Chris Nanos told NBC News Thursday night that investigators have developed a theory about the motive behind Guthrie's February 1 disappearance, but he declined to give any further details on the case or the theories surrounding it. What he did offer was a warning: the suspect could "absolutely" strike again.
We believe we know why he did this, and we believe that it was targeted, but we, we can't, we're not 100% sure of that.
That was the sheriff's answer. Nearly six weeks into a case with reportedly zero leads, the top law enforcement official in Pima County gave an update while refusing to divulge anything of substance. He then told residents not to assume they're safe.
So it'd be silly to tell people, 'Yeah, don't worry about it. You're, you're not his target.' Don't think for a minute that because it happened to the Guthrie family, you're safe. No, keep your wits about you.
According to the New York Post, Nanos has faced criticism over the fruitless month-long search for Guthrie, the mother of "Today" show co-host Savannah Guthrie. He has been accused of making confusing and contradictory public statements earlier in the investigation. His department reportedly came under fire after the scene outside Guthrie's home was left so unsecured that reporters and even a pizza deliveryman were able to knock on the front door.
That is not a detail that inspires confidence. Neither is a sheriff who tells a national audience he thinks he knows why an elderly woman was taken from her home but can't share a single detail, while simultaneously warning that the unnamed, undescribed suspect might do it again to someone else.
There is a version of this where operational secrecy makes sense. Active investigations often require withholding information that could compromise leads or tip off a suspect. Every reasonable person understands that. But the combination of zero leads, no suspect identification, contradictory public messaging, and a crime scene that apparently had the security posture of an open house makes the secrecy feel less like strategy and more like a lack of answers dressed up as discretion.
Consider what Nanos actually communicated Thursday night. Stripped of the hedging, his message to residents of Pima County was: we think we know why this happened, we think it was targeted, we're not sure, we won't tell you anything else, and by the way, you might be next.
That is not a reassurance. It is not even a useful warning. A useful warning gives people something to act on. Lock your doors because of a specific threat profile. Be aware of a suspect matching a particular description. Watch for a certain type of vehicle. "Keep your wits about you" is what you say when you have nothing else to offer.
An 84-year-old woman is missing. Her family is in agony. The community around her home has spent six weeks wondering whether they're safe. They deserve more than vague theories the sheriff won't share and warnings he can't make specific.
This case raises a broader point about local law enforcement accountability that conservatives, in particular, should take seriously. Supporting law enforcement does not mean suspending expectations of competence. It means holding the institutions we value to the standards that justify our support for them. When a sheriff's department leaves a crime scene unsecured, delivers contradictory statements to the public, produces zero leads in five weeks, and then holds a national television interview to say essentially nothing, the public has every right to ask hard questions.
Backing the badge means demanding that the badge perform. Those two things are not in tension. They are inseparable.
Nancy Guthrie has been missing for nearly six weeks. The suspect has no name, no face, no description that the public has been given. The sheriff believes he knows the motive but won't share it. And the only concrete guidance for Tucson residents is to keep their wits about them.
Somewhere, an 84-year-old woman's family is waiting for more than that.