The Night They Vanished: The Disappearance of Scott and Amy Fandel

Two children, one cabin, and a silence that has never been broken

There are some cases that settle into your bones, not because of what is known, but because of what isn’t. The disappearance of Scott and Amy Fandel is one of those cases—a story that begins in an ordinary moment and ends in a silence that has stretched across decades.

Scott Fandel and his younger sister Amy were living with their mother in a small cabin near Sterling, tucked into a wooded area off Scout Lake Road and the Sterling Highway. Their lives were shaped by circumstances that were far from easy. Their parents had gone through a difficult divorce, and their mother, Margaret, was working long hours as a waitress to keep things together. The family was doing what so many families do—finding a way forward, even when the path wasn’t steady.

On the night of September 5, 1978, Scott and Amy went with their mother and their visiting aunt, Cathy Schonfelder, to a local bar and restaurant called Good Time Charlie’s. It wasn’t unusual for the kids to be there; there were games, familiar faces, and a sense of routine. Around 10:00 that night, the adults walked the children back to their cabin before returning to the bar.

It’s a detail that matters: the cabin sat back in the trees, not easily visible from the road, and the front door lock didn’t work.

Margaret told the children not to stay up too late, and then she and Cathy left.

What happened next unfolded in pieces.

After returning home, Scott and Amy walked over to the nearby home of the Lupton family, neighbors and friends they spent time with often. The kids played together that evening, and at some point, they were sent home. It seemed like an ordinary night. A passing motorist later reported seeing the cabin lights on around 11:45 p.m.—something that made sense, because both children were known to be afraid of the dark and often kept the lights on.

Sometime between then and the early morning hours, everything changed.

Margaret and Cathy returned to the cabin between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m. The house was dark. Inside, there were small, unsettling details—a pot of water on the stove, a box of macaroni and cheese and an open can of tomatoes nearby. It looked as though Scott had started to prepare a late-night snack.

But the children were not there.

At the time, Margaret believed they might have gone back to the neighbors’ house and gone to sleep there. She did not check, and she went to bed.

The following morning unfolded with a series of assumptions that would later become critical. Margaret left for work. Cathy woke later and believed the children had gone to school. It wasn’t until calls were made and neighbors began asking questions that the truth began to surface: Scott and Amy had not been at school. They had not been seen.

By the time law enforcement was contacted, many hours had already passed.

Search efforts began, but the vastness of the area—and the lack of clear evidence—made progress difficult. Investigators found little to work with. There were reports of bullet casings outside the cabin, though nothing definitive came from that. Witness accounts were inconsistent, timelines blurred, and leads stretched in multiple directions without resolution.

Scott and Amy had simply vanished.

Over the years, their disappearance has remained one of Alaska’s most haunting cases. The children were known to be close, with Scott described as protective of his younger sister. They were rooted in their community, connected to neighbors, school, and family. Their absence was immediate and deeply felt.

Despite extensive efforts, no confirmed sightings have ever been made. No one has been charged. No clear explanation has emerged.

What remains is that night—the walk back to the cabin, the lights on, the quiet interruption of something unknown, and two children who were there one moment and gone the next.

If you have any information about the disappearance of Scott and Amy Fandel, you are urged to contact the Alaska State Troopers at (907) 262-4453.

Because even after all these years, this story is still waiting for an answer.