In hindsight, the weather seems like a metaphor. It was 52 degrees in American Fork, Utah—oddly warm for February, when temperatures typically drop below freezing. Jerika Binks, 24, seized the opportunity to go for a run, the early spark of spring offering her a chance to log some serious miles—she regularly ran 15 or more at a time. But off in the distance, a storm was brewing. A gray haze of snow clouds formed over the Wasatch Mountains, looming above the city from the East. By nightfall, a blizzard would white-out the town and Jerika Binks would be a missing person.
She had actually been planning to run that day with her roommate. But it was Sunday, February 18, and the roommate decided to go to church instead. This was not a deal-breaker for Jerika, a natural athlete who loved the outdoors and frequently ran alone. Running was her religion. She also took self-defense classes and went duck hunting with her 20-year-old brother, Porter. She dreamed of opening her own gym someday. Her mom, Suzanne Westring, describes her as "pure muscle."
Around 9 a.m., Jerika put on her new running shoes—the so-called "barefoot" kind that look like gloves for toes—and put on a pair of dark green leggings and a two-toned gray hoodie. Leaving her wallet and ID at home, she grabbed her phone, water bottle, and earbuds. She often listened to country music to set her pace, but had lately been obsessed with a Pandora pop workout station suggested by her sister, Sydney, 22.
Jerika didn't use a tracker—no Apple Watch or MapMyRun app. But shortly before 9:30 a.m., she turned left onto North Country Boulevard, a busy street lined with chains like McDonald's, Chase Bank, and Dollar Tree, in addition to ranch-style houses. Surveillance footage charted her path past the Mormon temple, where bridal parties gather for pictures in the garden outside and patches of lollipop-colored tulips sprout in the spring.
READ ON