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In the stillness of the Tucson foothills, the scene outside Nancy Guthrie’s home now looks less like a retirement haven and more like the opening shot of a crime thriller. A faint trail of blood, scattered on the front steps. The ripped-out remains of a Ring camera, as if someone wanted to erase whatever it saw. Inside, an 84-year-old woman’s life has been abruptly interrupted — her family left clinging to fragments and questions.
