In April 2014, the mysterious disappearance of two Dutch women, Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon, sent shockwaves around the globe. What was supposed to be an exciting adventure through Panama’s lush forests became a tragedy that still leaves more questions than answers, and the chilling evidence left behind continues to disturb those who revisit the case.
On April 1, 2014, Kris and Lisanne, both in their early twenties, set out on a day hike near Boquete, a small town in western Panama. Dressed in shorts and tank tops, the two friends carried only a small backpack with a camera, two phones, a water bottle, and a few personal items. Their plan was to trek up to the scenic viewpoint known as Mirador, located along the El Pianista trail, and return before nightfall. They assured the woman who rented them a room that they would be back before dark.
What followed was a series of events that spiraled into one of the most unsettling mysteries of modern travel. When the host family’s dog returned home without the women that evening, concern quickly grew. The next morning, after no word from the girls, the host family contacted the authorities. A search was launched, involving local police, search and rescue teams, indigenous volunteers, and even the girls’ families who flew in from the Netherlands. Despite these efforts, there was no sign of Kris and Lisanne for weeks.
Both girls had spent six months working and saving for this trip. Kris, 21, was an outgoing and responsible student who had recently completed her studies in cultural social education at the University of Utrecht. Lisanne, 22, had just graduated with a degree in applied psychology from Deventer. Their goal in Panama wasn’t just to explore—it was to immerse themselves in a new culture, learn Spanish, and volunteer with children.
They arrived in Panama on March 15, 2014, and after a couple of weeks of traveling, they reached Boquete on March 29. They stayed with a host family and were scheduled to begin their volunteer work shortly. But just three days later, they vanished without a trace.
Nearly two months after their disappearance, a local woman found a blue backpack on the bank of a river in a nearby village. Inside were the girls’ belongings: Lisanne’s passport, some cash, a water bottle, two bras, and most importantly, their phones and digital camera. What investigators found on those devices shifted the story into darker territory.
The phones showed that the girls had tried to call emergency services 77 times in the first few days after their disappearance. The first calls were made just hours into their hike, suggesting that they encountered trouble early on. Most of the calls never connected due to lack of signal, but one managed to go through—only for two seconds—before cutting off. After April 5, the attempts to unlock one of the phones using incorrect PINs suggested that Kris may no longer have been able to access it herself. By April 11, both phones had gone completely silent.
Even more disturbing were the images retrieved from the camera. Early photos showed the girls smiling, clearly enjoying the beginning of their hike. But then came a series of nighttime photos taken between 1 and 4 AM on April 8. These images were unlike anything seen before: strange shots of rocks, plastic bags, and candy wrappers arranged in peculiar ways, along with unsettling close-ups—one seemingly showing Kris’s head with what some believe might be blood near the edge of the frame. Neither of the girls appeared clearly in these photos, which has led to endless speculation.
One daytime photo, possibly taken by Lisanne, shows Kris with a pained expression, leaning forward with her hands behind her back. Some believe it indicates she may have been injured or restrained. Another photo, taken that same night, shows toilet paper and a mirror on the ground, possibly laid out in an attempt to send a signal like “SOS.” The frantic, almost desperate nature of the night photos—captured over a three-hour span—has only deepened the mystery.
The most devastating discoveries came later. In June, Kris’s neatly folded clothes were found on a riverbank. Two months after that, human remains were uncovered nearby. A pelvic bone and a boot with a foot still inside were located, along with about 10% of Lisanne’s bones and 5% of Kris’s. Lisanne’s bones appeared to have decomposed naturally, but Kris’s bones were stark white, possibly due to exposure to the sun or another unknown factor. A Panamanian forensic anthropologist examined the bones under magnification and found no signs of trauma or cut marks—no evidence of foul play, but also no clear indication of natural causes.
Despite extensive efforts by both Dutch and Panamanian investigators, the case remains unsolved. Experts suggested that the girls may have gotten lost and fallen from a cliff, but no conclusive evidence has ever confirmed this. There were no eyewitnesses, no suspects, and no solid theory that could explain all the details—particularly the bizarre photographs, the failed emergency calls, and the condition of the remains.
To this day, the deaths of Kris Kremers and Lisanne Froon remain a haunting mystery. Their story has inspired documentaries, podcasts, and countless internet forums attempting to piece together what might have happened. Were they simply lost in the vast, unforgiving jungle, or was something more sinister responsible for their fate? The lack of answers has left their families and the public grasping for closure. What should have been a joyful journey of
