Philadelphia neighbors are searching for 23-year-old Kada Scott. Here’s what we know — and why police say her disappearance is “troubling.”
On an ordinary Saturday night, Kada Scott grabbed her bag, told her mom she was heading to work, and walked out the door. She never came home.
Scott, 23, had recently started an overnight shift at The Terrace at Chestnut Hill, an assisted-living facility in Northwest Philadelphia. She was last seen around 9:45 p.m. on Oct. 4 near the 8300 block of Rodney Street, the same night her car was later found parked outside her workplace. Police say her height, build, and clothing are known, but what they don’t have is the one thing that matters most: where she went after she arrived.
In the days since, Philadelphia officers, relatives, and volunteers have canvassed neighborhoods and parks, handing out flyers, knocking on doors, and following every tip. Investigators focused a large search on Awbury Arboretum, a 55-acre green space a few miles from the facility. It’s the kind of place families wander on bright fall weekends; on Friday, it was a grid of uniforms and caution tape. The search ended without confirmed evidence.
Police leaders have been careful with their words, but they’ve said enough to worry Scott’s family and friends. A top official described this as a case with “troubling facts” and signaled that investigators do not believe she left on her own. That doesn’t mean they’ve declared foul play; it does mean they’re treating the investigation with urgency.
Those facts include a disturbing detail from the week before she vanished. Scott told relatives and friends that unknown callers were harassing her by phone. Detectives are trying to identify who was behind the calls and whether they connect to her disappearance. For now, it’s a lead—one of several—on a board that still has more questions than answers.
At home, anxiety has hardened into action. Family members have organized search groups and community events to keep her name visible and her case active. They’ve retraced routes between the house, her car, and the facility, and they’ve talked to anyone who might have seen or heard something, anything, that didn’t feel right that night. Local TV crews have followed along, amplifying the effort and reminding the city that an empty chair waits at the Scott family table.
To date, there’s been no meaningful activity on Scott’s phone or social media accounts since she disappeared, a silence that is deeply out of character, her family says. The absence of digital breadcrumbs—no pings, no posts—has narrowed the search to old-fashioned police work: interviews, canvasses, video pulls, and specialized searches of green spaces and nearby waterways.
The timeline as investigators understand it is painfully short. Scott left for work Saturday evening and, according to police, was last seen around 9:45 p.m. Her vehicle was located at the workplace, but officers have not publicly confirmed whether her keys, phone, or other belongings were recovered from the car or the building. What they have said is that the missing-person report originated from the city’s 14th District and that any solid lead—no matter how small—could change everything.
In cases like this, the smallest detail can make the difference: a door-camera clip time-stamped a few minutes earlier than thought; a rideshare driver’s dashcam; a diner worker who remembers a face. That’s why police are again asking residents of Germantown, Mount Airy, and Chestnut Hill to check porch cameras, street-parking cameras, and any footage from the late hours of Oct. 4 into the early morning of Oct. 5. If you live near Awbury Arboretum or along routes to and from the facility and notice anything odd on your footage—a parked car that wasn’t there before, a person running, a phone light in the bushes—investigators want to hear about it.
Community members who’ve joined the search say Scott is the kind of person who lights up a room—a former pageant competitor with big plans and a bigger smile. Stories like hers are the reason so many strangers show up with bottled water, flashlights, and a willingness to walk for hours. “We don’t know her, but she’s ours,” one volunteer said at a neighborhood gathering, capturing the feeling that has kept the crowds going even as the nights get colder.
For now, the official message remains steady: keep eyes open, share any detail, and avoid spreading rumors that could muddy the investigation. If you saw Scott on the night she vanished—or if you know anything about the harassing phone calls she reported—call the Philadelphia Police Department. Tips can be submitted anonymously at 215-686-TIPS (8477) or online through the department’s tip portal. If you prefer to talk to a detective, the Northwest Detectives Division can be reached directly. Even a fragment—half a license plate, a snippet of overheard conversation—might be the piece that helps bring her home.
Behind every missing-person flyer is a full life paused mid-sentence: a favorite coffee order, a podcast queued for the commute, a friend expecting a text back. The longer a case stretches, the easier it is for names to fade into the churn of headlines. If you live in Philadelphia, you can push back against that. Check your cameras. Ask neighbors if they saw anything unusual. Share the official flyer. And keep saying her name.
Kada Scott is 23. She is loved. And she is still missing.
If you have information that could help investigators, call 215-686-TIPS or contact Northwest Detectives. Anonymous tips are accepted.
