Even though it was assumed from the start — or at least widely believed — that Amelia Earhart’s plane crashed somewhere in the Pacific due to fuel exhaustion, the case never settled into silence. And perhaps that’s because Amelia wasn’t just a pilot. She was a symbol of modernity, of women’s independence, of progress. Her disappearance in 1937 became one of the greatest enigmas of the 20th century. And nearly nine decades later, it remains a collective obsession.

I count myself among the obsessed. Earhart’s story goes far beyond the history of aviation. It’s actually an emotional void in the historical narrative: how could one of the most famous women in the world, surrounded by press coverage, sponsors, maps, and the technology of her time, simply vanish into nothing? Since then, the emptiness she left behind has been filled with theories, expeditions, and speculation — some logical, others purely fantastical.

The most bizarre theories have only grown over time. Some claim Amelia was captured by the Japanese and died in a prison camp on Saipan. Others insist she lived out her days in hiding in the United States, under a new identity. There are even those who believe she was a spy for the U.S. government, and that her disappearance was part of a classified operation. An old photograph of a woman resembling her on a dock in the Marshall Islands fueled headlines and speculation — but nothing conclusive ever surfaced.

Among the more grounded theories is the so-called Nikumaroro Hypothesis, and that brings us to the most recent update. In July 2025, marking 88 years since Amelia disappeared, a new expedition was announced, set to travel to the remote atoll of Nikumaroro in November. The team hopes to investigate the so-called Taraia Object, a visual anomaly captured in images that some believe may be part of Earhart’s long-lost aircraft. This uninhabited South Pacific island has been searched before, but researchers now claim to have new and compelling evidence: three old radio transmissions triangulated near the island, and personal items possibly belonging to a 1930s-era woman — a shoe, a medicine bottle, and a small jar of freckle cream.

That detail — freckle cream — might seem trivial. But in a case like this, it’s the small things that keep hope alive. The jar closely matches a bottle of Dr. C.H. Berry’s Freckle Ointment, a product sold in the early 20th century to lighten freckles. Earhart reportedly hated her freckles and was known to carry such products.

Richard Pettigrew, the expedition’s leader, says this may be the best opportunity yet to “write the final chapter in Amelia Earhart’s extraordinary life.” But others, like Ric Gillespie, a researcher who has led 12 past expeditions to the region, remain deeply skeptical. He believes the supposed wreckage is nothing more than “a coconut tree, root ball and all.”

What fascinates me — and I believe many others — is this fine line between reason and faith that the case walks. It’s not just about a missing aircraft. It’s about a life without closure. And when there’s no body, no visible wreckage, no final image… every space left empty becomes a space for projection — of hope, fear, or imagination.

So, will we ever have a definitive answer? Maybe. This new mission will deploy cutting-edge scanning technologies and underwater drones more advanced than anything previously used. And if physical remains matching the aircraft or genetic evidence are found, we might finally get a concrete resolution — something touchable, undeniable.

Still, even with an answer, it might be hard to end the myth. Because Amelia Earhart vanished physically, yes — but was also absorbed by a mythology made of hope, awe, and fascination. And myths, as we know, don’t end with evidence. They continue to chase — and inspire — us.