In the early morning hours of August 21, 2016, at 5:40 a.m., logging truck driver James Harrison was traveling along Highway 212, the Beartooth Highway, near Silver Gate, Montana. A thick pre-dawn fog blanketed the mountain road, limiting visibility to a few dozen feet. Harrison, a 50-year-old driver with 30 years of experience, relied on memory as much as sight as his headlights illuminated only wet asphalt and the yellow dividing line.
Then he saw a shadow move across the median.
He slammed on the brakes. The truck’s pneumatic system released a sharp whistle as the heavy vehicle skidded to a stop just yards from the figure in the road.
It was a woman.
She stood barefoot on the double solid line, unmoving despite the screech of brakes and blinding headlights. Her clothes hung in muddy rags. Her skin was coated with dried blood and dirt. Her feet were so bruised and torn they appeared as continuous wounds crusted with gravel. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. Scratches and bruises marked her face. She shivered in 50-degree air.
Harrison approached with a flashlight. She did not respond. Her gaze passed through him, glassy and distant. Later, doctors would describe her condition as catatonic stupor—a protective psychological response to extreme trauma.
This woman was Tiffany Miller, 28, missing for a week inside Yellowstone National Park.
Harrison radioed for help. Paramedics from nearby Cooke City arrived at 6:15 a.m. Her pulse was weak. Her blood pressure critically low. Her body temperature had dropped to 92 degrees Fahrenheit, indicating deep hypothermia. She did not resist being placed on a stretcher, but her body was rigid.
Her right hand was clenched so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Paramedic Sarah Thompson attempted to pry open her fingers to insert an IV. The hand resisted as if locked in spasm. With assistance, they extended her fingers one by one. Tiffany emitted a hoarse moan—not from pain, but reluctance.
When her hand finally opened, a small object fell onto the stretcher sheet.
It was a Garmin eTrex portable GPS navigator.
The yellow rubber casing was darkened with dirt. The screen was cracked. Brown stains had hardened between the buttons and along the ridges of the case. The device’s green indicator light still blinked. It was on, still recording coordinates.
The brown substance was not mud.
It was blood.
Too much blood to be explained by the superficial abrasions on Tiffany’s hands.
She was transported to Cody Regional Medical Center in Wyoming. On August 22, she regained consciousness. Two police officers guarded her hospital room while reporters crowded the corridor outside.
Detective Mark Golden of the Park County Sheriff’s Office and Special Agent Sarah Vance of the Federal Bureau of Investigation conducted the first interview. It lasted nearly 4 hours.
Tiffany recounted what she described as a nightmare.
On August 13, 2016, at approximately 4:30 p.m., she and her husband, 31-year-old architect Richard Miller, had crossed into Gardiner, Montana, near the north entrance of Yellowstone National Park. At 5:15 p.m., they checked into the Elk Antler Lodge Motel. The motel administrator later described them as calm, smiling, excited tourists.
On August 14 at 7:40 a.m., surveillance footage showed Richard filling their silver Ford Explorer with gas and purchasing two large coffees and a six-pack of water. At 8:45 a.m., their SUV arrived at the Slough Creek Trail parking lot in the Lamar Valley.
In the visitor log, Richard wrote the date, departure time of 9:00 a.m., party of 2, destination campsite 2 ES1, and planned return date of August 16, 2016.
According to Tiffany, the fatal mistake occurred on August 15 around noon. Richard had wanted to photograph an unnamed creek off the official Slough Creek Trail. They ventured approximately 1 mile into the forest when they smelled smoke.
In a hidden clearing, they discovered what she described as an illegal camp—dirty tarp structures, animal bones, scattered garbage. Before they could retreat, a white man in his 50s or 60s with a gray beard and “crazy eyes” emerged, holding a hunting rifle with a scope. He wore worn military camouflage.
He accused them of being government spies and forced them, at gunpoint, deeper into the forest. They walked for hours, Tiffany said, stumbling while he struck them with the rifle butt. By evening, they reached a ravine. The man tied their hands with plastic ties and secured them to separate trees.
At dawn on August 17, Richard managed to free his hands. When the captor stepped away, Richard lunged at him and shouted for Tiffany to run. She heard a struggle. Then a gunshot. Then Richard’s scream.
She ran.
For 5 days, she wandered the forest, hiding in holes and under roots, drinking from puddles and eating berries. She eventually reached Highway 212 where Harrison found her.
The suspect was sketched and dubbed “the Wyoming hunter.” Panic spread through towns in Montana and Wyoming. Armed patrols increased. Tourists canceled reservations.
But Detective Golden felt unease.
On August 23, a combined SWAT and National Park Service team searched the ravine Tiffany described, 5 miles off the Slough Creek Trail. They found nothing. No camp. No shell casings. No plastic ties. No signs of struggle. No body.
The area showed no recent human activity. Moss was undisturbed. Metal detectors were silent. Search dogs gave no alerts.
Meanwhile, detectives in Billings examined the Millers’ personal lives. Colleagues described Richard as controlling. Tiffany had reportedly been required to keep receipts for all purchases. Her phone records placed her at a divorce law firm on July 14, 2016. A prenuptial agreement drafted by Richard’s father’s attorneys reportedly left Tiffany with little financial security if she initiated divorce. However, it included significant provisions in the event of accidental death.
Forensic pathologist Dr. Alan Grant examined Tiffany’s injuries. The scratches on her arms and legs were superficial, vertical, and orderly. There were no deep lacerations or bruises typical of someone running blindly through dense forest for days. There were no significant fall injuries.
Her blood chemistry showed only moderate dehydration—consistent with 24 to 36 hours without water, not 5 days. Electrolyte levels were reduced but not life-threatening. Kidney function was normal.
Her injuries were static, not dynamic.
Attention turned to the Garmin GPS.
On August 24, at the FBI Digital Forensics Laboratory in Denver, technician Michael Vance extracted data from the device. According to system logs, it had been powered on at 9:00 a.m. August 14 and never turned off during the entire 7 days. Batteries had been replaced around the third day.
The recorded GPS track did not resemble chaotic flight. It showed a smooth, deliberate route skirting obstacles and freshwater sources. Average speed was approximately 2.5 miles per hour—a measured walking pace.
On August 17, the day Tiffany claimed she had been fleeing for 2 days, the device recorded a 14-hour stationary stop near Baronet Peak cliffs, far from official trails.
At 2:12 p.m. on August 16, the altimeter recorded a sudden 260-foot drop in altitude. The device remained at that lower elevation for about 20 minutes, then began a slow ascent lasting more than 40 minutes.
The coordinates were in the Yellowstone River Canyon, an area known to rangers as the “Devil’s Sector,” inaccessible and not near hiking routes.
Investigators concluded the drop was not a descent on foot but a fall. The 20-minute pause suggested someone had gone down, remained there, then climbed back up.
A tactical team deployed to the coordinates on August 25. They found no illegal camp, but a concealed rock niche hidden with broken pine branches. Inside were five empty GU energy gel packets, a half-empty liter bottle of factory water, an isothermal blanket, and a black leather notebook.
The notebook contained dated entries.
August 17: Wait.
August 19: Helicopters are close. Sit quietly. Do not leave before sunset.
August 20: Day five. Put mud on my face and hands. Tear the t-shirt on the shoulder. Look convincing.
August 21: Go to the highway. 6:00 in the morning. Fog. Perfect time for a meeting.
Nail scissors with blue fabric fibers were found. Cuts in Tiffany’s clothing matched the tool.
She was arrested in her hospital room on August 25 for obstruction of justice and perjury. During interrogation on August 26, she changed her story. She claimed Richard had attacked her in a jealous rage near a cliff, and she pushed him in self-defense.
Digital data contradicted this version.
The coordinates of the fall were on a remote ledge in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River. GPS and accelerometer data showed no signs of struggle. The device had been stationary for about 5 minutes before the drop. Richard was likely photographing the view.
Altitude data indicated he fell onto a ledge 80 feet below—not to the canyon floor. The GPS then recorded a careful descent by Tiffany, a 20-minute pause, and an ascent.
On September 28, 2016, a specialized climbing team descended to the ledge. Richard Miller’s remains were found wedged between the canyon wall and a boulder. The body was partially covered with stones and branches—an improvised grave.
The occipital bone of his skull was crushed, consistent with a forceful blow from a blunt object. A stone with brown residue was recovered.
In his jacket pocket was his smartphone in a waterproof case. The final video, recorded at 2:12 p.m. August 16—2 minutes before the fatal drop—showed Richard smiling at the canyon edge.
“Tiff, it’s just stunning here. You picked a great spot. The view is incredible. Come here. Let’s take a photo together. Don’t be afraid. It’s safe here.”
Her voice responded: “I’m coming, honey. Stay there and don’t move. I want to take a picture of you.”
The video ended.
There was no argument. No fear. No aggression.
In April 2017, Tiffany Miller stood trial in Park County District Court. Prosecutors presented GPS data, the hidden cache of supplies, the notebook, and the video recording.
On May 20, 2017, after 3 hours of deliberation, the jury found her guilty of aggravated first-degree murder. She was sentenced to life in federal prison without the possibility of parole.
The Slough Creek Trail remains open. The canyon still roars below Baronet Peak.
Richard Miller’s final coordinates remain a permanent record.
