In January 1973, a 27-year-old Black woman named Cheryl Lanier vanished from San Francisco. No one filed a missing persons report for 37 years.
When her case was finally logged in 2010 and the city police department’s Missing Persons Unit investigated, but the case languished, unsolved for decades. This month, DNA analysis confirmed Lanier had died in Houston, Texas, in September 1976 — three years after she disappeared — after jumping from a moving tractor-trailer. She had spent half a century as a Jane Doe.
Lanier’s tragic story, however, isn’t rare. In fact, it fits a disturbing pattern of what happens when Black Americans go missing.
Harmful Stereotypes
In 2023, more than half a million people were reported missing in the United States. According to 2023 data from the National Crime Information Center, 40% of missing persons are people of color, although Black Americans make up just 13% of the population.
The disappearances are made worse by what doesn’t happen: urgent searches and media attention.
Black and Missing Foundation co-founders Derrica and Natalie Wilson have described being “shunned” by the media, met with silence when seeking coverage for missing Black victims. The dynamic is rooted in stereotypes associating Black communities with criminality. For instance, many missing Black children are first classified as runaways, so their disappearance isn’t circulated through an Amber Alert.
Waiting to be Seen
For Black families, the pain of loss is compounded by the invisibility. It took 53 years for Cheryl Lanier to be identified. Thousands of other Black people who have vanished are still waiting to be seen.
Word In Black spoke with Natalie Wilson about the Black and Missing Foundation’s 18-year fight to find America’s forgotten missing. The co-founders started the organization after watching a grieving family get ignored by the same media that made the disappearance of Natalee Holloway an international story.
The following has been edited for clarity and length.
Word In Black: Your organization has been around for nearly two decades. What prompted you to start it, and what is the Black and Missing Foundation’s core mission?
Natalie Wilson: We have been sounding the alarm since May of 2008 that people of color are disappearing at an alarming rate from around the country. Our mission is to bring awareness to missing men, women, and children from around the country, to educate our community on personal safety, and to search for those who are missing.
The inspiration behind the foundation is a young lady by the name of Tamika Houston, who went missing from Spartanburg, South Carolina — my sister-in-law’s hometown. We read about how her family, particularly her aunt Rebecca, who works in public relations, could not get media coverage for her missing niece.
All it takes is one piece of information, one person who comes forward with a tip, to bring someone home. And if they’re no longer alive, at least the family has answers and can move forward.
Natalie Wilson, the Black and Missing Foundation
A year after Tamika disappeared, Natalee Holloway vanished — and just saying her name alone, everyone knew her story. Rebecca had reached out to the same reporters, the same networks, the same programs that covered Natalee Holloway, and she was met with silence.
My co-founder Derrica and I decided to do some research to see if there were systemic issues around missing people of color, because we simply were not seeing their stories in the media. At the time, we found that 30% of all missing persons were people of color. My background is media relations and public relations; awareness is key in trying to find the missing. Derrica’s background is in law enforcement. Those are the two critical professions needed to bring our missing home.
WIB: What keeps you going after 18 years?
Wilson: The families. They are desperately searching for their missing loved ones, and many times they tell us we are their last resort.
Law enforcement isn’t taking the police report — they’re turning families away. The media isn’t covering the stories. And the community isn’t involved, because either they don’t know someone is missing, or they’re turning a blind eye because they aren’t personally affected.
WIB: You mentioned law enforcement turning families away. Can you give a specific example?
Wilson: There was a young girl by the name of Kennedy who went missing from Baltimore. When her mother reported her missing, law enforcement told her Kennedy had run away. That is what we see repeatedly — law enforcement classifying [Black] young girls as runaways. The moment that happens, they receive no Amber Alert and no media coverage whatsoever, because the assumption is the child left home willingly.
But even if a child leaves home voluntarily, you have to ask: what are they leaving from, and what are they leaving into? We know that girls and boys are being sex trafficked at an alarming rate.
In Kennedy’s case, we were able to pressure law enforcement into taking a proper missing person’s report. We amplified her case. She had been trafficked and was being moved from Baltimore to another part of Prince George’s County by her traffickers. An Uber driver recognized her from a flyer on our website, contacted us, and we were able to reach our resources at the FBI. They rescued her. Kennedy was 14 or 16 years old — young — and she was a functioning autistic child.
That case illustrates exactly why we require a police missing person’s report to be on file before we can assist a family. If law enforcement refuses to take the report, we work with the family to get it done.
WIB: You mentioned the numbers have changed since you started the foundation. What do the statistics look like now?
Wilson: When we first started in 2008, based on FBI statistics, 30% of all missing persons were people of color. Today that number has increased to 40%. But we believe the real number is much higher.
The Hispanic community is underreporting for various reasons, and the FBI is categorizing Hispanic individuals as white in their data — which we find troubling. Research shows that 24% of Latinos and Latinas identify as Afro Latino. So, when you’re miscategorizing Hispanic missing persons as white and not accounting for Afro Latinos at all, the true scale of the crisis is being obscured.
WIB: What does your media strategy look like, and why does media coverage matter so much to these cases?
Wilson: Media coverage is important for two reasons. First, it alerts the community that someone is missing. Second, it puts pressure on law enforcement to dedicate resources to the case. No department wants to be embarrassed. When we work with media partners and a reporter calls a precinct asking for a case update, we see law enforcement spring into action.
Because we can’t wait for the traditional news cycle, we’ve also built our own platforms — including a podcast — so families can tell their stories directly. All it takes is one piece of information, one person who comes forward with a tip, to bring someone home. And if they’re no longer alive, at least the family has answers and can move forward.
WIB: Where does the foundation operate, and who are your partners?
Wilson: We’re headquartered in Hyattsville, Maryland, but we are a national organization. Over nearly 18 years, we’ve built partnerships with law enforcement agencies around the country — departments in Washington, D.C., Oakland, and elsewhere actively use our missing persons database.
We also have partnerships with local and national media, including programs like Dateline, and we could not do this work without the Black press, which has consistently created space for us to tell these stories.
In June, we’re launching our very first street team in Atlanta — boots on the ground in one of the country’s hot spots, ready to mobilize immediately when someone goes missing. Other high-need cities we focus on include Baltimore, Chicago, Detroit, and Miami.
WIB: What do you want parents to know about how children are being targeted?
Wilson: We ask families: how can someone get into your home without coming through the front door or a window? The answer is through apps and technology. Any device with a chat feature is a potential point of contact for predators.
We had a case out of Georgia where a pedophile groomed a young girl, who was a gamer, over the course of two years. People assume this happens fast. It does not. These individuals are patient, and they know how to identify vulnerability. They know that children who lack food, housing, or basic stability are more susceptible. They know what to say. They earn trust slowly, and eventually they get children to share where they go to school, where they worship — details that put them in danger.
We also urge young adults: stop posting [on social media] your location in real time. Post when you get home. You never know who is watching.
WIB: What should someone do if they know something about a missing person but are afraid to come forward?
Wilson: We have an anonymous tip line. We know there is a deep and historically earned distrust between law enforcement and our community. If you are not comfortable going directly to police, please reach out to us. We will not compromise your identity. We understand the sensitivity. And if you have a missing loved one and do not know what to do, please reach out to us so we can provide the support you need.
WIB: What’s on the horizon for The Black and Missing Foundation?
Wilson: On May 30th, we are hosting our 10th Anniversary 5K at the harbor in Fort Washington, Maryland. It is a family event — a day for the community to rally around families who have missing loved ones. Along the route, you will see mile markers featuring the images and information of missing persons. We hope the community will come out, walk with us, and help us keep these faces visible.
Interested persons can register or support the Black and Missing Foundation’s Hope Without Boundaries 5k Walk/Run. The event will be held rain or shine.