When Nicole Marranca stopped calling her family in the summer of 2017, they knew something was wrong. Nicole had struggled, yes—but she was very open about her struggle with addiction. At the time she was without stable housing, engaging in sex work to get her basic needs met. But she always stayed in touch. She saw her mother regularly and called her father regularly, no matter what. Until she didn’t. In the years since, no trace of Nicole has ever been found.

There are some locals who believe Nicole didn’t just disappear. That she may have been targeted.We don’t know. There are so many unknowns in Nicole’s story. But what we do know is this: her life matters. She was deeply loved. And she was Last Seen in the Twilight Zone.

Our thoughts are with Nicole's family, who just celebrated her birthday on December 11th.

https://ithacavoice.org/2017/11/father-missing-ithaca-woman-im-waiting-worst-id-love-hear-best/?utm_source=chatgpt.com

https://murderincorp.wordpress.com/2024/01/01/upstate-ny/

Missing Persons podcast: https://open.spotify.com/episode/2L8ObEDb5ggn5c9P4tWmuf?si=3752118de70346e2

Today’s story is one of hate, heartbreak, and horror. But it's also a call to remember those we lost. Today, we go to Buffalo, New York—a proud Rust Belt city known for its snowstorms, football team, and the blue-collar resilience of its people. But on May 14, 2022, something happened that would fracture this community... a hate-fueled act of domestic terrorism. An 18-year-old man from the quiet town of Conklin drove more than 200 miles with one clear, terrifying motive: to kill Black people.

This is the story of the Tops Market Massacre.

It was a Saturday afternoon in Buffalo’s East Side—a neighborhood rich in history, culture, and community, and one that’s predominantly black, which is kind of crazy to me that he drove all the way there because theres quite a large black community right here in Binghamton, or like Syracuse? Why Buffalo?

Tops Friendly Market on Jefferson Avenue was bustling. Families shopping for Sunday dinners. Elderly neighbors picking up prescriptions. Regular folks going about their day. Tops was one of the few full-service grocery stores in the area. For many residents, Tops wasn’t just a store. It was a lifeline.

But around 2:30 p.m., that ordinary afternoon turned into a nightmare.

A young white man dressed in tactical gear and armed with an assault-style rifle stepped out of his car in the parking lot. On his weapon were racial slurs and symbols.

He livestreamed the attack on Twitch.He opened fire before even stepping inside.

Within minutes, 10 people were dead. All were Black. Three others were wounded.

A few weeks ago, I was in the car with my husband, driving through downtown Binghamton. We passed a small greenspace; it’s easy to miss & nestled in a busy intersection. It’s the Memorial Park in honor of the American Civic Association. At its center, there’s a broken column, surrounded by thirteen glass birds in flight. Each bird represents a life lost in one of the most devastating events in our city’s history.

There’s something we noticed about Binghamton—it’s that many of our most beautiful public spaces are named in honor of its most tragic moments. Places designed for reflection, built from heartbreak. There’s something eerie about it.

As we drove by, I started telling him about April 3, 2009. It was the day a man walked into the American Civic Association on Oak St. in Binghamton NY & opened fire. I told him about the families hopeful for good news that never came, and the advocates who held them in their grief. I told him about how this one day changed our city, and how it pushed everyone to think differently about emergency planning and how to move in a crisis.

In this episode, we’re going to revisit that day—not just to recount the timeline of events, but to understand what it meant for the people in that room, for the families who lost someone, and for a city that will never forget.

Sources:

https://americancivic.com/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2009_Binghamton_shooting

https://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/04/nyregion/04hostage.html