What happened to Ann Curry?
The veteran journalist, who celebrates her 67th birthday on November 19, has remained relatively quiet since she was forced out of her job at Today in 2012 and later, NBC News in 2015.
Despite her name no longer appearing in the headlines, Curry continues to work in the field of journalism.
Curry, the eldest of five, was born in Guam to Hiroe Nagase and Robert Paul “Bob” Curry. As a child she spent several years living in Japan before her family moved to Oregon where she attended high school and would later attend and graduate from college.
She began her broadcasting career in 1978 as an intern at KTVL, then an NBC affiliate in Oregon. After succeeding as an intern she was promoted to become the station’s first female news reporter.
Two years into her career she moved to KGW in Portland where she worked as both an anchor and reporter. She later moved to Los Angeles where she worked as a reporter for a CBS affiliate for six years.
During that time she won two Emmy Awards for her work.
Career at NBC News
In 1990, Curry began her career at NBC News.
She began as an NBC News Chicago correspondent before securing a job as an anchor on the now defunct show, NBC News at Sunrise. During her five-year stint as an anchor on the morning show, she also filled in for Today‘s Matt Lauer.
In 1997 she was promoted to news anchor on Today and held the position from 1997 to 2011.
In addition to reading the news on Today, Curry was named co-anchor of Dateline NBC in 2005, and she was the main substitute on NBC Nightly News from 2005 to 2011.
Regardless of her accolades or coverage of hard news stories, in June 2012, Curry found herself out of a job.
Her departure was emotional and public, and it was never very clear the reason behind her leaving Today.
While she no longer sat next to Matt Lauer, she remained with NBC News, but only until January 2015.
Life after NBC News
Following her 25-year career with NBC News, Curry slowed down, but made no less of an impact with her reporting.
She founded a multi-platform media company, reported and produced the PBS series We’ll Meet Again, gave a TED Talk about restoring trust in journalism, and hosted TNT’s Chasing the Cure.
In 2022, Curry received the Murrow Lifetime Achievement Award from Washington State University’s Edward R. Murrow College of Communication. The university recognized her work “on human suffering in war zones and natural disasters through her work as an American journalist, photojournalist, and reporter.”
Most recently, Curry sat down with Min Jin Lee, author of “Pachinko,” for PBS Arts Talk.
And while Curry has kept posting to a bare minimum on social media, after a year and a half absence, she returned to share a wintry photo.
“Good morning world. Keep safe and cozy. ‘The woods are lovely, dark and deep…’” she wrote before disappearing again.
I Found a Girl Alone on a Dark Road – What I Saw When I Got Closer Will Haunt You
Driving alone on a foggy night, a mother sees a young girl in a torn dress, quiet and strangely familiar. As she drives closer, she notices the girl’s sad eyes, filled with secrets that might be best left unknown.
It was late, and the night seemed darker than ever. The fog hugged the car like a thick blanket, hiding everything beyond the headlights. I squinted ahead, holding the steering wheel tighter than usual.
“Just get home,” I whispered, rubbing my tired eyes. It had been a long day at work, and I couldn’t wait to crawl into bed.
I always avoided this road. I usually took the main highway, but tonight, I thought: A quick shortcut will save time.
Then, I noticed something in the distance. A shadow in the middle of the road. I slammed on the brakes, heart pounding. The outline was faint, but it was there in the mist.
“Please just be a tree or a mailbox,” I whispered, though I knew it wasn’t. As I drove closer, I realized it was a girl. She looked thin, and her white dress was in tatters.
A chill ran down my spine. Every instinct told me to turn back, but something held me there.
I cracked open the window, my voice shaky. “Are you okay?”
I stepped out of the car with a flashlight. The beam lit up her face, and I gasped, stumbling back. I knew that face. The pale skin, the wide eyes—it was my daughter.
“Emily?” I whispered, barely believing it. She looked at me, eyes empty and wide.
“Mommy?” Her voice was faint, like a distant echo.
Shock and relief overwhelmed me. It was Emily, my daughter who’d been missing for five years. She had vanished without a trace, and no one knew what had happened to her.
“Emily, oh my God… it’s you,” I stammered, stepping closer. “Are you hurt? Where have you been?”
She blinked slowly, her expression blank. “I… don’t know,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, like she hadn’t spoken in years.
I knelt in front of her, heart racing. “It’s okay, honey. It’s me. We’re going home now, alright?” I wrapped my coat around her thin shoulders and led her to the car. She sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out into the fog.
The drive home was quiet. I glanced over at her, but her face was blank, as if she were somewhere far away.
“Emily,” I asked gently, “do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
She didn’t look at me. “A room. It was dark. There was a man, but I can’t remember his face.”
My throat tightened. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. We’re going home.”
When we got home, she sat on the couch, looking around as if everything was unfamiliar. I asked if she remembered the place, but she only shrugged. Her voice was flat and empty.
“Mom,” she whispered, “I’m… cold.”
I wrapped a blanket around her, feeling her icy skin. The days that followed were tense. Emily was distant, barely speaking. The only time I heard her voice clearly was when she sang an old lullaby I used to sing to her. It felt strange because she shouldn’t have remembered it.
One day, I found her looking at old photo albums. Her fingers traced a picture of her father, Mark. He had died when she was a baby.
“Mom?” she said, confused. “I know him.”
I felt a chill. “That’s your dad, honey. I’ve told you about him.”
She shook her head slowly. “No, I know him from… the place.”
A cold wave of fear washed over me. Emily couldn’t remember Mark, but she knew someone who looked like him. It had to be his brother, Jake. They looked so alike, almost like twins.
I couldn’t ignore the feeling anymore. I needed answers.
The next morning, I drove to our old family cabin deep in the woods. It had been abandoned for years, but something felt off when I arrived. One of the windows was covered with a cloth. Why would someone do that?
I pushed the door open, dust swirling in the air. Everything was untouched except for a small room in the back. Inside, toys lay scattered, worn but well-loved. My heart sank. This was where Emily had been kept.
I called the police immediately. Hours later, Emily sat quietly with me as the officers searched the cabin. She clutched her blanket, looking small and sad.
“Mommy… I remember now,” she whispered. “It was Uncle Jake. He looked like Daddy, but different. He would bring food and hum that song.”
The police confirmed it that night. They found enough evidence to arrest Jake. He confessed, saying he had taken Emily to “protect” her, wanting her to rely on him. It was twisted and horrifying to realize he had been so close all this time.
When Emily heard the truth, she broke down, crying out the pain she had held inside for so long. I hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now,” I whispered. “No one will take you away again.”
In the days that followed, Emily started to open up more. She would hum the lullaby at night, as if testing if it was safe to sing it again.
One evening, we sat together by the window. She leaned against me, and I softly hummed the lullaby like I used to. She looked up at me with a hint of peace in her eyes.
“I love you, Mommy,” she whispered.
Tears filled my eyes as I held her close. “I love you too, sweetheart. Forever.”
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