Gone Without a Trace Since 2002 — Now This NC Mom Is Back With an Explosive Story That Changes Everything

The missing North Carolina mom of three has been located by The Post — 24 years after she ran away and ditched her family.

Michele Lyn Hundley Smith, now 62, claimed Thursday that her daughter is “forgiving” her after she was found by the local sheriff last week, and then hauled back to the county she fled on an old drunk-driving charge.

She’s now living alone in a trailer in a rural community in Robeson County, near the South Carolina line.

Her daughter Amanda, who was 14 when Smith left, confirmed that she has forgiven her mom but is communicating with her through a third party, according to a pal.

“Yes, they’re in contact through a friend of Michele’s and she has forgiven her mom but she doesn’t have any other comments for right now. She’s trying to handle things privately and respectfully,” the friend, who goes by Lynn, told The Post.

“She’s being incredibly strong, happy to be connected with her mom and is just ready for all this to quiet down so they can focus on rebuilding together privately,” the friend added.

AD

Smith lives alone in a trailer in a rural community in the state’s poorest county near the South Carolina state line.

And she says she is trying to make amends with the family she left behind — including two daughters, 19 and 14, and a son who was just 8.

Michelle Hundley Smith, a woman with dark curly hair and a red top, smiling and wearing large earrings and a ring.
Michele Smith was found alive and living a new life after going missing in 2001.Facebook

Mugshot of missing woman Michelle Hundley Smith.
Michele Hundley Smith seen in a new mugshot.
“My daughter is forgiving me. We are in contact, so leave me alone,” she told The Post.

She will not face charges for abandoning her family, authorities in Rockingham County told The Post, but she was arrested for failing to appear on a drunk driving arrest just before she went missing in 2001.

Smith remains holed up in a tiny village about three hours from the family she ran away from at Christmas 24 years ago.

A neighbor said she led a quiet life with a new man whom she said was her husband.

“She’s been here for years and years…She’s a nice person. She’s been here a few times to talk to us,” a neighbor told The Post.

She told people she kept to herself because her husband had recently died and she was all alone.

AD

Red mobile home with a wooden porch and steps in the rain.
Smith is living in a trailer in a rural community near the South Carolina state line.Lone Pine Press

AD

“We asked why she didn’t come out of the house much and she said her husband passed. He passed last year…She was really sad about it. She said she was depressed and stayed inside,” the neighbor claimed.

A man had indeed been living at the house until he passed away in 2024, public records show, but the nature of their relationship is unclear.

A neighbor said the close-knit community of around 2,000 people is not a good place to hide because, “everyone knows everyone.”

But in this case, they didn’t know Smith’s past.

She refused to explain exactly why she left, but she blamed her “mental state.”

“When I left, the mental state I was in, I thought it was my only choice,” Smith told the Daily Mail.

“I know that I made the news, but I honestly 100% never knew that I was loved or wanted,” she added.

Her home life had been marked by constant drinking, vicious fights with her husband, and infidelity, her daughter Amanda told The Vanished Podcast in 2018.

The sheriff from Rockingham closed in on her location after turned up on the national NCIC missing persons database, the Rockingham County Sheriff’s Department told The Post.

The department did not say how she popped up in the system after 24 years; someone can be flagged for actions ranging from a traffic stop or trying to cross a national border.

Amanda Smith speaking about her missing mother.
Michele claims her daughter Amanda has “forgiven” her for disappearing all those years ago.FOX 8 WGHP
Smith had a miserable life of drunkenness, infidelity, and vicious fights with her husband before abandoning her family.

She had been fired for drinking on the job and booked for drunk driving in Rockingham County before the 38-year-old mom of three stepped out to go Christmas shopping in 2001 and never returned, Amanda told The Vanished.

Her discovery in a tiny rural town in North Carolina’s poorest county ends a mystery that had haunted her kids for two decades — but it leaves more questions than answers.

Smith told deputies she had left because of “domestic issues,” the sheriff’s department said, without giving further details.

Before she went missing, her daughter said that she drank so much that a shed near the house was filled with empty rum bottles.

“We had a little red building outside, and it was full of rum bottles, the empties, the ones that he had already drank,” Amanda recalled.

Smith had hid the bulk of her boozing from her husband Randy, a truck driver, Amanda told the podcast — one more deception in a marriage built on bitterness and lies.

The couple would fight constantly, vicious shouting matches that sometimes “got physical” and ended with Smith sleeping apart from her husband in a chair in the living room.

Both parents cheated on each other, Amanda claimed.

Randy Smith got together with a woman he met at the local bar less than six months after Michele vanished.

As for her young brother: “He was 8 years old, and he was very upset by it. We all were. She left near Christmas. That Christmas we did not have much of a Christmas because of us…That’s a Christmas I will never forget,” Amanda said on the show.

Amanda said it seemed like her father always knew his wife had simply run away.

He believed she was building a private stash of money from the family bank account, and at one point even mentioned a note Smith had left before leaving — though he later denied even bringing it up and never mentioned it again.

“That name should be dead… so why is Blackridge standing in my unit?” They mocked the new girl — until they saw the DEVGRU trident on her arm… and realized she wasn’t there to fit in. She was there to expose a betrayal that could trigger a nuclear trap.  The forward base near the Belarus border wasn’t built for drama. It was steel walls, mud-soaked boots, and radios hissing through cold dawns. Task Unit Seven didn’t get surprises.  Until she stepped off the transport.  Small. Controlled. Eyes that scanned exits before faces.  “Name,” Captain Owen Strickland demanded after reading the transfer sheet twice.  “Petty Officer Talia Blackridge, sir.”  The room shifted.  Thirty-six years earlier, a Blackridge had dragged Strickland out of a kill zone. Three years ago, that same man was declared KIA. Flag folded. Funeral attended. File closed.
“Say your name,” Captain Owen Strickland ordered.  “Petty Officer Talia Blackridge, sir.”  The room shifted.  Strickland had buried a Blackridge once. A man who pulled him out of a kill zone and was declared KIA years later. Memorial attended. Flag folded. Case closed.  Except now his last name was standing in front of him. Alive. Young. Impossible.  The team didn’t buy it. They mocked her. Tested her. Threw her into a 12-hour armory breakdown meant to break anyone.  She finished it flawlessly.  And when her sleeve shifted, they saw it.  The trident.  DEVGRU.  SEAL Team Six.  Silence swallowed the room.  Strickland stepped closer — and that’s when she said it.  “I’m not here to impress you. I’m here to find out who betrayed my father.”
I begged my landlord for mercy… and accidentally sent the message to a billionaire CEO. The next reply changed my life — and took me to Dubai as his “fiancée.”  I hadn’t eaten in two days.  My rent was overdue. My cupboard was empty. Even the salt was gone. So I did what pride-hungry people eventually do — I typed a desperate message.  Please don’t throw me out. I’m still job hunting. I promise I’ll pay. God will bless you.  I hit send.  Then I looked at the number.  It wasn’t my landlord.  It was a stranger.  I almost died of shame.  Across the city, Damalair Adabio — billionaire, CEO, allergic to nonsense — stepped out of his marble bathroom and opened my message.
She texted her landlord begging not to be thrown out… and accidentally sent it to a billionaire CEO instead. Minutes later, he offered her $7 MILLION to be his fake fiancée on a Dubai trip — and what happened that night changed everything.  Ouchi hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She stood barefoot in her tiny one-room apartment, holding an empty pot like proof that life had officially humbled her. No rice. No beans. No noodles. Even the salt had “relocated.”  Then her landlord called.  Final warning. Pay this week — or get out.  Desperate, fighting tears, she typed a long message begging for more time. She poured in everything — her degree, her job search, her faith, her pride.  She hit send.  And froze.  Wrong number.  Not her landlord.  A complete stranger.  She had just begged someone she didn’t know for mercy.  Across the city, billionaire CEO Damalair Adabio stepped out of a marble bathroom into a home that screamed wealth. Betrayed by his PA. Pressured by investors. Invited to a high-stakes Dubai business summit where every powerful man would show up with a stunning partner on his arm.  His phone buzzed.  He read her message once.  Then again.  It wasn’t manipulation. It wasn’t a scam pitch.  It was raw. Embarrassingly real.  “Wrong number,” he muttered… then paused. “Or maybe perfect timing.”
The avalanche hit without warning — white, violent, unstoppable. When it settled, rifles were missing. Packs were gone. And Claire was nowhere to be found.  They dug.  They found scraps of her gear.  Then their team leader made the call no one wants to make: “She’s dead. We move.”  They pulled out with wounded men and a storm closing in — leaving their medic behind.  But Claire wasn’t dead.  She woke up buried in ice, shoulder shattered, air running out. No radio. No weapon. Just darkness and pressure and the memory of one rule from survival school: panic kills faster than cold.  She dug with numb hands until she broke through into a full Arctic storm.  And that’s when she heard it.  Gunfire.  Her Rangers were still out there — taking contact, without their medic.  What she did next is the part they don’t put in the official report.  Because hours later, through the whiteout, a single figure emerged from the storm…  Carrying four Rangers.
“She’s dead.” They left the SEAL sniper under ten feet of Alaskan snow and moved on with the mission… Hours later, in the middle of a whiteout, she walked back into the fight — carrying four Rangers on her shoulders.  November 2018. A Ranger platoon out of Joint Base Elmendorf–Richardson lifted into the Brooks Range for a hostage rescue that had to be finished before a blizzard locked the mountains down for days.  Attached to them? A Navy medic — Hospital Corpsman First Class Claire Maddox.  Quiet. Compact. Instantly underestimated.  Some Rangers glanced at her PT scores and made up their minds. The team leader, Staff Sergeant Tyler Kane, kept it professional but distant. “Stay close. Don’t slow us down.”  Claire didn’t argue. She checked radios. Tourniquets. Chest seals. IV warmers. Cold-weather meds. She studied wind angles and ridgelines the way other people read street signs.  Insertion was clean.  The mountain wasn’t.  They moved across a knife-edge locals called Devil’s Spine when visibility collapsed into gray static. Then came the sound no one forgets — a deep, hollow crack above them.
Naval Station Norfolk was silent except for the click of metal around Lieutenant Kara Wynn’s wrists.  The charge? Abandoning her overwatch position during an operation near Kandahar. Prosecutors claimed she “froze.” That because she didn’t fire, three Marines died.  The headlines were already brutal: Female SEAL cracks under pressure.  In dress whites, Kara didn’t flinch when they called her a coward. Didn’t react when they hinted her record was exaggerated. She just sat there, posture perfect, as the bailiff locked the cuffs.  “Standard procedure,” the judge said.  The prosecutor smirked.  Then the courtroom doors opened.  Not a clerk. Not a late observer.  A four-star admiral.