The Night Everything Changed

The smell of burnt food still lingered in the kitchen that June evening. Lois Smart had accidentally scorched dinner, and even after cleaning up, the acrid scent clung to the air inside their beautiful three-story home in the Federal Heights neighborhood of Salt Lake City.​

Before bed, Ed Smart went through his usual routine with his daughter Elizabeth—closing and locking all the windows and doors throughout the house. But that one small window above the kitchen sink, the rectangular one with the hand crank—they left it open, just to let the kitchen breathe.​

It was June 4, 2002. Elizabeth had just come home from her middle school awards ceremony at Bryant Middle School, glowing with pride over her achievements in physical fitness and academics. At fourteen, she was blossoming into a lovely young woman—the second-oldest of six children in a close-knit family deeply rooted in their faith and community.​

That night, Elizabeth climbed into the bed she shared with her nine-year-old sister, Mary Katherine, in their upstairs bedroom. The house alarm system protected most of the home, but that small kitchen window—the one they’d left open to air out the burnt smell—wasn’t part of the system.​

It was the kind of small, everyday decision that millions of families make without thinking. How could the Smarts have known that this one choice would change their lives forever?

Sometime between 1:00 and 2:00 in the morning, a man dressed in dark clothing approached their home. Brian David Mitchell had been watching, waiting, planning. He pulled out a knife and carefully cut through the screen of that open kitchen window. Then he climbed inside.​

The house was silent except for the sound of Ed Smart snoring down the hall—a sound that, weeks earlier, had actually saved another young girl when Mitchell’s snoring alarm scared him away from an earlier kidnapping attempt. But tonight, nothing stopped him.​

Mitchell crept up the stairs and found his way to the girls’ bedroom. In the darkness, he moved first to Mary Katherine’s side of the room. The nine-year-old felt herself awakening, sensing a presence. Her eyes opened just enough to see a figure—a man—standing in her room.​

Terror froze her in place. She watched, pretending to sleep, as the stranger walked past her bed and moved toward her sister Elizabeth.​

The man leaned over and tapped Elizabeth’s shoulder. Startled awake, Elizabeth thought it was her little sister. “What is it?” she murmured sleepily.​

But it wasn’t Mary Katherine.

Elizabeth felt something cold and sharp press against her throat. A knife. Though Mary Katherine, in her terror, thought she saw a gun, it was actually a blade—real, deadly, and held by a stranger who whispered threats that made Elizabeth’s blood run cold.​

“You better be quiet, and I won’t hurt you,” the man said softly.​

Elizabeth stubbed her toe on a chair as he forced her out of bed, and she let out a small “ouch.” The man repeated his warning. Elizabeth, trying to understand what was happening, asked the question that echoed in the darkness: “Why are you doing this?”​

Mary Katherine, still frozen in her bed, couldn’t make out the man’s reply. She thought she heard something about “ransom”. What struck the nine-year-old most was how calm the man seemed, how soft-spoken—even polite. He was nicely dressed, not at all what she imagined a kidnapper would look like.​

And his voice… there was something familiar about his voice, though Mary Katherine couldn’t place where she’d heard it before.​

The man forced Elizabeth to put on her red running shoes. Mary Katherine watched in silent horror as he led her sister toward the bedroom door. The little girl’s mind raced. Should she scream? Should she run to her parents?​

She started to get up, to go tell Mom and Dad what was happening. But as she reached her bedroom door, she saw the man was still there, just outside in the hallway near her brothers’ room, still holding Elizabeth. If he saw Mary Katherine, he might take her too.​

Terrified, the nine-year-old ran back to her bed and hid under the covers, shaking. She told herself to be quiet, to stay hidden. “If he hears you, he might take you too, and you’re the only person who has seen this,” she thought.​

Mary Katherine waited in the darkness. Minutes felt like hours. She had no watch, no way to know how much time was passing. For a child her age, time becomes elastic in moments of fear—what might have been thirty minutes could have felt like an eternity, or vice versa.​

Psychologists would later say it was remarkable that she told anyone at all that night. In cases where children witness crimes and receive threats about harming family members, they often remain silent for years, sometimes forever. But Mary Katherine, after what she estimated was about two hours of hiding in terrified silence, finally crept out of her room.​

Just before 4:00 a.m., she woke her parents.​

“She’s gone. Elizabeth is gone,” Mary Katherine told them, her voice small and frightened. “A man came and took her. He had a gun”.​

Ed and Lois thought their daughter was having a nightmare. They searched the house, turning on every light switch, hoping desperately that Elizabeth had simply fallen asleep somewhere else. But when Lois reached the kitchen and saw the cut screen on that window—the one they’d left open to air out the burnt smell—she knew.​

“I was hysterical, and we were screaming,” Lois would later recall. “I was yelling for Ed to call the police. It’s a dreadful, dreadful feeling”.​

At 4:01 a.m., the 911 call went out. By dawn, their quiet neighborhood was swarming with police cars, search dogs, and investigators. The FBI was notified. Helicopters took to the skies. Volunteers began gathering.​

Within hours, the impossible had happened to an ordinary American family. Their daughter had been stolen from her bed while they slept just down the hall.

Ed Smart, like many fathers in similar situations, had to submit to a polygraph test. It’s standard procedure in child abduction cases to rule out family involvement, but for a father whose daughter had just been taken, it was another layer of nightmare. “When asked by law enforcement, I fully cooperated because I had nothing to hide,” Ed said. “We are doing everything we can to bring Elizabeth back”.​

The community response was extraordinary. By the end of the first day, more than 2,000 volunteers had shown up to search for Elizabeth. They came from across Utah, from neighboring states, even from California. Local businesses donated nearly one million flyers. Twenty private plane owners volunteered their aircraft for aerial searches. A man from Montana offered four helicopters.​

Volunteers registered at Shriners Hospital, which became the central command post, then dispersed to search neighborhoods, valleys, and hills extending 50 miles in every direction from the Smart home. For days, the drizzle fell and temperatures dropped into the 40s, yet volunteers kept coming, kept searching, kept hoping.​

“This is the fastest mobilization we’ve ever witnessed,” said one search coordinator who had helped look for 35 missing children across the nation. “This truly stretches the scale of community involvement. It’s astonishing”.​

Candlelight vigils were held. Prayer circles formed. The faces of Ed and Lois Smart became fixtures on television screens across America. A nation watched, prayed, and wondered: Where was Elizabeth Smart?

Mary Katherine, traumatized by what she’d witnessed, was interviewed by police four times in those early days. Child forensic specialists were brought in to help her remember details. She described the kidnapper as best she could: a white man, about the height of her brother Charles—around 5’8″—maybe 30 to 40 years old, with dark hair and a medium build.​

But she couldn’t see his face clearly. And that voice that seemed so familiar—she couldn’t place it, no matter how hard she tried.​

As June became July, the massive volunteer searches continued, though with each passing week, hope grew thinner. In those first weeks, police had pursued a lead on Richard Ricci, a career criminal who had done work at the Smart home. Ricci was arrested on a parole violation and later charged with stealing jewelry and other items from the Smarts and a neighboring family.​

Many investigators believed they had their man.

But on August 30, 2002, Richard Ricci died in prison from a brain hemorrhage. And Elizabeth was still missing.​

“Perhaps those people will now be more inclined to tell police what they know,” a Smart family spokesman said hopefully after Ricci’s death. But the weeks continued to pass with no breaks in the case.​

The statistics are brutal in child abduction cases. The vast majority of children who are murdered are killed within hours of being taken. After three months, after six months, the likelihood of finding a missing child alive drops to almost nothing.

But Ed and Lois Smart refused to give up. “We would attribute her return to our Heavenly Father,” Ed would later say. Their faith sustained them through the darkest days, even as the camera crews gradually left, even as the daily searches wound down, even as well-meaning friends quietly began to assume the worst.​

What the Smarts didn’t know—what nobody could have imagined—was that Elizabeth was alive. She was being held captive just miles from their home, hidden in the foothills behind the very house she’d been taken from.​

In a crude campsite in the woods, Brian David Mitchell had forced Elizabeth into a mock “marriage ceremony” performed by his accomplice and legal wife, Wanda Barzee. Then the nightmare truly began.​

 

Into the Shadows

When June slipped into July, a thick blanket of heat settled over the Salt Lake Valley. The once-drizzle turned to scorching sun, but the Smart family’s hope never withered. Lois and Ed rose before dawn to post flyers, talked to anyone who would listen, and kept Mary Katherine close, comforting her through nightmares and flashbacks.​

A Mock “Wedding” in the Woods

Meanwhile, thirteen miles east of their home, Brian David Mitchell and his accomplice Wanda Barzee had established a makeshift camp in a grove of scrub oak behind Coalville. There, in a crudely fashioned “bride’s room” made from a Cadillac tarp draped over tree branches, Mitchell performed a bizarre pseudo-marriage ceremony, telling Elizabeth she was his “prophetess” and that God had chosen her to fulfill his divine plan.​

Elizabeth, terrified and alone, raised her hand when Mitchell instructed her to vow obedience. Then Barzee placed a pink plastic ring on her finger, tearing the last shreds of the normal life she’d known. Every day, Mitchell alternated between moments of apparent kindness—offering her fruit and occasionally allowing her to read from his dog-eared King James Bible—and moments of savage cruelty, whipping her with branches, forcing her to stand on a rock in the sun for hours, and raping her repeatedly.​

Mary Katherine’s Breakthrough

Back at home, Mary Katherine struggled to hold onto sanity. The little girl had told detectives every detail she could recall about the intruder—the size and shape of his shoes, the brand of his coat, the soft rasp of his voice as he spoke to Elizabeth. Yet none of that had led to a break.​

In late August, child-forensic specialist Dr. Doug Byrne introduced Mary Katherine to a technique called “cued narrative”. He asked her to imagine the campsite, to touch the tarp, feel the rough bark, smell the pines. He encouraged her to draw the scene.​

The breakthrough came when Mary Katherine sketched a makeshift carpet on the ground—a distinctive quilt her parents had made for Elizabeth that Mitchell had used to cover the floor of his “worship tent.” She described the quilt’s red and gold pattern perfectly. Investigators rushed to re-examine the case, but still no suspect match.​

A Chance Observation

By early March 2003, the nation had largely forgotten the Smart family’s pain, but Salt Lake City bar-owners hadn’t. On the evening of March 11, a videotape emerged from a downtown KUTV bar. Three patrons were busted for underage drinking, and the police found a woman named Wanda Barzee on camera arguing with a man who called her “wife” and insisted the cameras were a sign that they were “specially chosen” by God.​

Detective Joe Stuart, who had worked intelligence for the FBI’s Missing Persons Unit, studied the footage. Something about the man’s face struck a chord, but the image was fuzzy. Then he noticed the tattoos on the woman’s arm—distinctive, bright blue, the same tattoos Mary Katherine had described on Barzee’s arms.​

Stuart cross-checked DMV records and discovered that electrodes for Barzee’s ankle monitor—she’d been arrested months before on fraud charges—had been removed illegally. The FBI focused on her husband: Brian David Mitchell, a drifter from Las Vegas with a long history of mental health problems and a violent temper.​

The Rescue

On the morning of March 12, 2003, heavily armed FBI agents and Utah Police SWAT teams converged on a campsite near the Wasatch-Cache National Forest. Mitchell, surprised and angry, tried to deny Elizabeth was there. But Barzee, under interrogation, broke down and led the agents to the tarp-covered tent. Inside, they found Elizabeth—alive, though gaunt, traumatized, wearing the same red running shoes she’d put on that night nine months earlier.​

When Lois Smart arrived at the scene, she collapsed into her husband’s arms and sobbed. “I just thought she was gone forever,” she whispered through her tears.​

Elizabeth emerged from the tent, eyes bright but distant, clutching a makeshift bouquet of wildflowers she had picked for her captor—proof of her survival, proof that her faith had kept her alive. She refused to speak publicly for days, choosing instead to draw in her journal, writing with neat script: “I am alive. I will heal.”​

Captors Brought to Justice

At the joint state-federal trial later that year, Elizabeth took the stand with the courage of a warrior. She calmly recounted nine months of captivity—each lash, each prayer, each desperate thought that passed through her mind. She called Brian David Mitchell a hypocrite, exposing the twisted logic he used to justify his brutality.​

Mitchell was declared mentally incompetent to stand trial in October 2003, then found competent a year later. In November 2005, he was convicted on multiple counts of kidnapping and sexual assault and sentenced to life without parole plus 70 years in federal prison. Barzee was sentenced to 15 years, later released in 2018 under strict supervision.​​

Through it all, the Smarts remained resolute. They forgave no one, but they refused to be consumed by hate. They started the Elizabeth Smart Foundation, dedicated to educating parents, training law enforcement, and advocating for victims of sexual violence.​

 

 From Survivor to Advocate

When Elizabeth Smart first returned home on March 12, 2003, she was a ghost of the vibrant teenager who had been stolen from her bed nine months earlier. She’d lost weight, her long brown hair was matted, and her wide hazel eyes held a distant sadness. Yet even in that fragile state, a spark of resilience burned within her.​

The Long Road to Healing

In the weeks after her rescue, Elizabeth struggled with nightmares, panic attacks, and a profound sense of isolation. She had been robbed of her childhood, her trust shattered by a man who claimed to act in God’s name. Family vacations to the coast were abandoned when the sound of crashing waves triggered flashbacks. Social gatherings became exercises in anxiety.​

Her parents, Ed and Lois, adjusted everything around her needs. They installed security cameras, moved to a quieter neighborhood, and limited Elizabeth’s exposure to media coverage. Her five siblings formed a protective circle, volunteering to sleep outside her door. Mary Katherine, once traumatized by witnessing the abduction, became Elizabeth’s closest confidante, often reading bedtime stories to soothe her sister’s fears.​

Elizabeth entered counseling with Dr. Gail Goodman, a trauma specialist who helped her process the months of abuse. Through therapy, she learned to name her emotions—anger, shame, grief—and to reclaim her agency by practicing affirmations each morning: “I am safe. I am loved. I am strong.”​

Education provided structure and hope. Elizabeth completed her high school education via an accredited online program, graduating with honors in 2005. She then enrolled at Brigham Young University, earning a bachelor’s degree in family studies in 2010. During college, she spoke occasionally at campus events, sharing pieces of her story to educate peers about child abduction and sexual assault.​

A New Mission

In 2007, Elizabeth founded the Elizabeth Smart Foundation, dedicated to preventing sexual violence and supporting victims. She partnered with law enforcement agencies to develop protocols for interviewing child witnesses, drawing on her sister’s experiences to advocate for “child-friendly” forensic methods. Her foundation produced educational materials distributed to schools across Utah and spearheaded fundraising campaigns to provide free counseling for survivors.​

Elizabeth’s own voice became a powerful tool. In 2010, she addressed the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women, urging member states to strengthen laws protecting children from abduction and abuse. Her impassioned speech—delivered in a calm, measured tone—highlighted the global scope of the problem: “Every day, children are taken from their beds. Every day, families are torn apart. We must do more than search; we must prevent”.​

Marriage and Motherhood

In 2012, Elizabeth married Matthew Gilmour, a fellow BYU graduate she’d met at a campus event. Their wedding was a quiet affair, held at the Salt Lake Temple, attended by close family and friends. For Elizabeth, marriage represented not just a personal milestone, but a testament to her ability to love and trust again after trauma.​

Their son, Theodore, was born in 2015. Elizabeth’s first words as a mother—spoken with tears—were, “I will protect you with everything I am.” She often credits motherhood with deepening her empathy for other survivors and strengthening her resolve to eradicate child exploitation.​

Lasting Legacy

Today, Elizabeth Smart is a bestselling author, motivational speaker, and advisor to the U.S. Department of Justice on child protection policies. Her memoir, My Story, co-written with Chris Stewart, has sold over a million copies and been translated into eight languages. She appears regularly at conferences, schools, and community centers, delivering her message of hope and resilience.​

The Smart family’s journey has inspired countless media portrayals—documentaries on Discovery Channel and A&E, a television movie starring a young actress who met Elizabeth to prepare for the role, and an annual vigil in Salt Lake City honoring missing children. But for Elizabeth, the most profound victories are quieter: a child who avoids online predators because of her foundation’s teaching, a parent who calls her hotline in desperation and finds guidance, a survivor who meets her gaze and says, “I want to live, just like you”.​​

Elizabeth has often said, “I am not defined by what happened to me, but by what I choose to do with my life.” That choice—to transform pain into purpose—has become her legacy.

The Power of Family

Through it all, the cornerstone of Elizabeth’s healing has been her family. Ed and Lois Smart never stopped searching; they never stopped believing. Mary Katherine’s courage in telling the police what she saw was crucial to Elizabeth’s rescue. Even after the spotlight faded, the Smarts remained her unwavering support system.

Their story underscores a profound truth: when the darkness seems endless, the light of family, faith, and community can guide the way home.