I had a lot of issues with Netflix’s new true-crime docuseries Amy Bradley Is Missing, which not only mistakes conspiracy for hope, but also feels like another entry in a long line of sensationalistic projects that exploit both the grief and the hope of Amy Bradley’s family. That said, it is a compelling series, at least until it collapses under the weight of the increasingly implausible theories surrounding Amy’s disappearance.
But just because I take issue with the way the series handles the family doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by the case itself. It’s been ongoing for 27 years, and though the Netflix series was my first exposure to it, I’m prone to falling into rabbit holes. So far, I’ve found two fairly significant details that the docuseries omits, both more than worthy of inclusion.
The first concerns the lawsuit the Bradleys filed against Royal Caribbean in 1999. To initiate the suit, the family requested that Amy be legally declared dead, a request that was granted. The series mentions in a post-script that the family sued the cruise line and that the case “was ultimately dismissed.” But what it doesn’t explain is why.
The Bradleys sued for negligent security, defamation, and intentional infliction of emotional distress. However, the case was dismissed because the family was accused of perjury. In court, the Bradleys claimed they had only three eyewitnesses who saw Amy after her disappearance, and that all three said she was under duress. That wasn’t true. There had been over 100 reported sightings suggesting Amy left the cruise of her own volition.
That’s a big omission. It illustrates that the family may have cherry-picked evidence to support their narrative (the three distress-based sightings) while ignoring a broader set of contradictory accounts. It also calls into question the reliability of all eyewitness reports: Three people said she was under duress, over 100 said she wasn’t, or perhaps none of them saw anything at all and just remembered what they wanted, or hoped, to see. Memory is fallible, especially when mixed with the desire to help or the lure of reward money.
But the larger omission is how badly the Bradleys were scammed. The Netflix series entirely leaves out the saga of Frank Jones, a fraudster who preyed on the family’s desperation.
It started with a woman named Judith, who claimed Amy was being held by armed guards in a house. Judith said she’d seen Amy working at a grocery store, going to the gym, and frequently accompanied by a man with long blonde hair and a sleeve of tattoos. After she mentioned a lullaby the Bradleys had sung to Amy as a baby, the family became convinced she was telling the truth (spoiler: she wasn’t).
The FBI dismissed Judith’s claims and didn’t follow up, so the Bradleys turned to Frank Jones. He claimed to be ex-military, leading a team of former Army Rangers and Navy SEALs, and said he could rescue Amy. The Bradleys — desperate and hopeful — paid Jones to carry out the mission.
Over the course of several months, Jones fed the family false updates, including sightings of Amy with the long-haired man. He eventually claimed his team had to abort a rescue mission after being shot at. To secure a final payment, he sent the Bradleys a blurry photo of a woman in a large sunhat, seen from behind, walking with a man with a sleeve of tattoos — allegedly Amy and her captor.
There was no rescue. There was no team. There was no Amy. Frank Jones defrauded the Bradleys out of $24,000 of their personal savings and more than $180,000 from non-profit organizations set up to help find Amy. He was eventually convicted of fraud and ordered by the court to pay the money back.
And the Netflix docuseries didn’t include any of it.
Why not? Possibly because it’s humiliating. Or perhaps because acknowledging the scam — and the family’s willingness to believe a con artist — would cast doubt on their ability to vet any of the other accounts they’ve clung to over the years. If they were fooled by Frank Jones, who’s to say they weren’t also misled by the many eyewitnesses whose stories support the more hopeful theories?
This omission punches a giant hole in the credibility of the entire docuseries. Once again, Netflix has shown it can’t be trusted to include information that doesn’t fit its narrative. It’s Steven Avery all over again.
For a more complete account of the Frank Jones scam, you can listen to Casefile Episode 59: Amy Lynn Bradley.
