In a development that has shattered the hopes of a grieving Philadelphia family and gripped the city in sorrow, investigators have confirmed the remains discovered in a shallow grave behind an abandoned middle school belong to 23-year-old Kada Scott. The young woman, a vibrant former beauty queen and recent Penn State graduate, had been missing for two agonizing weeks before the heartbreaking find on October 18. What began as a routine overnight shift at a local assisted living facility ended in a nightmare, with authorities now piecing together a chilling timeline marked by harassment, a suspicious tip, and eerie digital breadcrumbs.
Kada Scott’s disappearance on the night of October 4 sent ripples of fear through northwest Philadelphia’s Chestnut Hill neighborhood. Described by her family as a “light” full of kindness and ambition, Scott was pursuing a communications degree at Penn State University when she took on a part-time job at The Terrace at Chestnut Hill to help cover her tuition. That Saturday evening, around 9:45 p.m., she borrowed her mother’s car—a silver sedan—and headed to work for her 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift. She was last seen by coworkers around 10:30 p.m., when she abruptly left the facility early, citing an unspecified issue. Surveillance footage captured her walking toward a dark-colored vehicle parked outside, but the employee lot lacked cameras, leaving a critical gap in the visual record.
By Sunday morning, October 5, Scott had not returned home. Her mother, alarmed by the silence, called her husband, Kevin Scott, who confirmed he hadn’t heard from their daughter either. Repeated attempts to reach her went straight to voicemail—a stark deviation from her usual habit of constant check-ins. “Kada would never just vanish like this,” Kevin Scott told NBC News in the early days of the search. “Her phone going dark, no texts, no nothing—it’s not her.” The family contacted the facility, learning of her early departure, and promptly filed a missing persons report with the Philadelphia Police Department (PPD).
The initial investigation painted a portrait of a young woman whose life was upended by unexplained threats. In the days leading up to her vanishing, Scott had confided in family and friends about harassing phone calls from unknown individuals. “She was scared,” a close friend later revealed to local media. “She mentioned creepy calls, but we thought it was just spam or something minor.” Police confirmed these reports during an October 8 press conference, noting no social media activity or cellphone pings since 10:39 p.m. on October 4—precisely nine minutes after her phone’s last activity. Her mother’s car was located abandoned in the employee parking lot, but Scott’s personal items—her iPhone, iPad, and Apple Watch—were nowhere to be found, suggesting she had taken them with her or they were removed by force.
As days turned into a week, the case escalated rapidly. By October 14, the PPD’s Homicide Unit assumed control, signaling investigators’ grim suspicions that Scott’s absence was not voluntary. The FBI joined the effort, deploying advanced resources including drones, K-9 units from New Jersey, and even enlisting 300 police academy cadets to comb wooded areas in Germantown. Searches focused on Awbury Arboretum and the grounds of Ada H. Lewis Middle School, a long-vacant building on the 6100 block of Ardleigh Street, shrouded in overgrown foliage and urban decay. Volunteers, including Scott’s Penn State alumni network and local pageant organizers, plastered flyers across the city, turning the search into a community-wide vigil. A GoFundMe for a reward fund raised over $50,000 in contributions, fueled by heartfelt pleas from her father: “We’re working as hard as we can to bring her home.”
Breakthroughs came in waves of anonymous tips, each more ominous than the last. On October 15, a lead directed officers back to Ada H. Lewis Middle School. There, in the shadowed perimeter, they recovered items unmistakably linked to Scott: her iPhone case, an iPad case, a pair of glasses, and a debit card bearing her name. Forensic teams swarmed the site, but the wooded expanse yielded no body—only more questions. “These were her things, no doubt,” First Deputy Commissioner John Stanford said at the time. “But where is she?”
The plot thickened with the emergence of Keon King, a 21-year-old Southwest Philadelphia resident whose name surfaced through cellphone records. Court documents later revealed a flurry of communication between Scott and King on October 4: a dozen calls and texts, including one from Scott reading, “Kidnap me again,” met with King’s reply, “Better be up to.” A coworker overheard Scott on a tense call around 10:15 p.m., exclaiming, “I can’t believe you’re calling me about this,” before heading toward the dark car. King’s 1999 metallic-gold Toyota Camry, flagged as a vehicle of interest, was located via another tip but had been found burned and compacted in a junkyard by the time police arrived. Surveillance from a nearby recreation center placed the Camry—and King—near the school grounds on the night of the disappearance.
King was arrested on October 15 on kidnapping charges, described by Assistant District Attorney Ashley Toczylowski as the last person in contact with Scott. “All roads lead to him,” she stated during a press briefing. Prosecutors alleged King had used a stolen 2008 black Hyundai Accent—pilfered the day before Scott vanished—to transport her. The vehicle was set ablaze on October 7, destroying potential evidence. King’s criminal history painted a darker picture: earlier in 2025, he had been charged with abducting and assaulting another woman, posting $200,000 bail before his release. Yet, in a twist that fueled online speculation, texts suggested a prior encounter between Scott and King, possibly playful or consensual at first glance—but one that spiraled into terror.
The climax arrived on October 18, courtesy of what Stanford called a “very specific” anonymous tip received overnight on October 17: “Go back, she’s there, look again.” Returning to the school’s wooded rear at 10 a.m., officers unearthed a shallow grave, hastily dug and barely concealed by leaves and debris. Inside lay human remains, estimated to be about two weeks old and consistent with a female of Scott’s description. “This is a heartbreaking development,” the PPD stated in an official release. “Our thoughts are with Kada’s family and loved ones during this extremely difficult time.” DNA testing by the Philadelphia Medical Examiner’s Office, expedited over the weekend, confirmed the identity on October 20. The cause of death was later ruled a homicide—specifically, a gunshot wound to the head—prompting vows of swift justice.
Among the recovered items from the grave: Scott’s phone case and bank card, both bearing traces of soil and what forensics teams are analyzing for DNA. Most hauntingly, the map app on her phone—somehow still partially functional despite the battery drain—remained open to coordinates in a remote industrial zone on Philadelphia’s outskirts, a location Scott had never visited. Experts speculate it could mark where she was held captive or where King intended to dispose of further evidence. “It’s like a digital cry for help,” one investigator anonymously told CBS Philadelphia. “She was trying to leave a trail.” The phone itself was missing, possibly destroyed in the Hyundai fire, but the open app has become a poignant symbol in the case, amplified by true-crime enthusiasts on platforms like X (formerly Twitter).
King now faces a litany of charges: kidnapping, arson, causing catastrophe, conspiracy, tampering with evidence, and—pending final medical confirmation—murder. District Attorney Larry Krasner addressed the media on October 20, his voice steady but somber. “I am confident that homicide charges will be brought. But we follow the law—no shortcuts.” Prosecutors have built a robust case on cell data placing King at the school, the burned vehicle sites, and even a Southwest Philly address where additional remains—possibly clothing or accessories—were reportedly found this week. Rumors swirl of accomplices, including a friend named “Gabby,” whose alleged slip-up in a recorded conversation has investigators circling.
Philadelphia’s response has been a tapestry of grief and resolve. Vigils lit up Ardleigh Street on October 21, with hundreds gathering near the school to release balloons and share stories of Scott’s infectious smile. She wasn’t just a victim; she was Miss Philadelphia Township 2022, a Penn State cheerleader whose spirit shone in pageants and classrooms alike. Friends remembered her as a bridesmaid-to-be for a wedding mere days away when she vanished. “Kada was going to walk down that aisle with me, laughing the whole time,” her friend Preye Korimodei tearfully told reporters. “She showed kindness every day—with love, strength, and gratitude.”
The Scott family issued a poignant statement on October 20: “It is with profound sadness that we share the tragic passing of our beloved daughter, Kada Scott. We kindly ask for space and privacy as we process this heartbreak. We are profoundly thankful to every person who shared her story, joined the searches, prayed with us, and stood by our family.” They extended gratitude to Mayor Cherelle Parker, the PPD, first responders, and the media, emphasizing, “Although the outcome is one no parent should face, we remain thankful for the unity… As we grieve, our family now seeks justice for Kada.”
This case exposes raw vulnerabilities in urban safety nets: dimly lit parking lots without surveillance, the perils of unsolicited contacts in a hyper-connected world, and the razor-thin line between flirtation and felony in digital exchanges. Scott’s story echoes those of too many young women—Gabby Petito, Keeshae Jacobs—whose disappearances ignite national fury but fade without systemic change. Advocacy groups like Black and Missing Foundation have called for better streetlighting in Germantown and mandatory camera installations at care facilities, where workers like Scott clock in vulnerable hours.
As King’s arraignment looms, the PPD urges continued tips at 215-686-TIPS (8477) or anonymously online. “Justice for Kada isn’t just charges—it’s prevention,” Stanford reiterated. For a city still reeling, her memory endures not in the shadows of an abandoned school, but in the light she brought to every room she entered. Philadelphia weeps, but it will not forget.
