Couple Vanished in Grand Teton – 2 Years Later They Were Found In Cave, Acting Insane
In August of 2016, 31-year-old Daniel Brener and his wife, 32-year-old Clare Brener, set out on a four-day backpacking trip into the remote backcountry of Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. The couple, both experienced hikers from Boulder, Colorado, had planned their route carefully. They intended to traverse the Death Canyon Trail, camp at several designated sites, and return to the trailhead by August 18th. Daniel worked as a software engineer for a Denver-based tech company, while Clare was a freelance graphic designer who had recently completed a major project and wanted to celebrate with an extended wilderness trip.
According to their permit application, which was filed with the park service two weeks before their departure, they planned to hike approximately 35 miles over four days, carrying all necessary supplies, including a tent, sleeping bags, a water filtration system, and enough freeze-dried meals to last the duration of the trip. The couple had hiked together for nearly six years and had completed several multi-day treks in Colorado, Utah, and Montana. Friends and family described them as cautious, well-prepared, and respectful of wilderness protocols.
On the morning of August 15th, Daniel and Clare checked in at the Moose Visitors Center, where a ranger reviewed their itinerary and issued them a backcountry permit. According to the ranger’s notes, which were later included in the official case file, both appeared in good spirits, properly equipped, and familiar with the terrain. The ranger specifically noted that they carried a two-way radio, which was not required but strongly recommended for parties venturing into the more isolated sections of the park.
The couple’s vehicle, a silver Subaru Outback, was left in the Death Canyon trailhead parking area. Security footage from a nearby trail camera captured them beginning their hike at approximately 9:30 in the morning. They were last seen by other hikers around 2:00 in the afternoon on the same day, roughly five miles into the trail, moving steadily toward the upper canyon areas. The weather that day was clear and warm, with temperatures in the low 70s—ideal conditions for a long hike. There were no reports of storms, unusual animal activity, or any other environmental concerns that might have posed a threat to experienced backpackers.
When August 18th passed without any sign of the couple returning to the trailhead, no immediate alarm was raised. It was not uncommon for hikers to extend their trips by a day or two, especially if they found a particularly scenic campsite or decided to explore an unplanned side route. However, by the evening of August 19th, when their car remained in the parking lot and neither Daniel nor Clare had contacted anyone, concern began to grow. Clare’s sister, who lived in Jackson, Wyoming, had been expecting a call from her sister upon their return. When she did not hear from Clare by the afternoon of the 19th, she drove to the trailhead and confirmed that the Subaru was still parked in the same spot. She immediately contacted the park rangers and filed a missing person’s report.
The search operation began early on the morning of August 20th. A team of 12 rangers, supported by volunteer search and rescue personnel from Teton County, began combing the Death Canyon Trail and its surrounding areas. According to the official search log, the initial focus was on the marked campsites along the couple’s planned route. Rangers checked each site methodically, looking for any signs of recent occupation, abandoned gear, or notes that might have been left behind. They found nothing. No tent, no food wrappers, no trace of human presence at any of the locations where Daniel and Clare were supposed to have camped.
On the second day of the search, a helicopter was deployed to survey the broader area from above. The pilot and observer scanned the canyon walls, ridgelines, and valley floors, looking for brightly colored fabric, smoke from a campfire, or any other indication that someone was in distress. The terrain in this part of Grand Teton is rugged and complex, with steep granite cliffs, dense pine forests, and numerous boulder fields that can obscure visibility even from the air. Despite several hours of flight time, the helicopter crew reported no sightings.
Ground teams expanded their search radius, moving into areas that were not part of the couple’s original itinerary. They checked side trails, off-path creek beds, and known wildlife corridors where hikers sometimes ventured despite warnings. Search dogs were brought in on the third day. The animals were given items of clothing from the couple’s home to establish a scent profile, then released at various points along the Death Canyon Trail. The dogs showed interest in certain areas but never sustained a track long enough to lead searchers to a specific location. This was noted in the case file as unusual, suggesting either that the couple had not traveled through the areas being searched or that environmental factors had degraded any scent trail they might have left.
By the end of the first week, more than 50 people had participated in the search, covering over 100 square miles of wilderness. Not a single piece of physical evidence had been recovered. No backpack, no water bottle, no clothing, no equipment. It was as if Daniel and Clare Brener had simply vanished into the mountains. The search continued for another week, but as days passed without results, the operation was gradually scaled back. By early September, active searching had stopped, though the case remained open, and rangers continued to keep an eye out during their routine patrols.
The couple’s families issued public statements pleading for information and offering a reward for any credible leads. Local media covered the story extensively, and the case attracted attention from hiking communities across the country. Theories circulated widely. Some speculated that the couple had fallen victim to a sudden accident, perhaps a rockfall or a fall from a cliff edge. Others suggested that they might have encountered a dangerous animal, though no evidence of bear or mountain lion activity was found in the area during that time period. A few voices raised the possibility of foul play, though there was nothing in the couple’s background or behavior to suggest they had been targeted.
The most persistent theory was that they had simply become disoriented, wandered off their planned route, and succumbed to exposure or injury in a location that searchers had not yet reached. Grand Teton National Park covers more than 300,000 acres, much of it wild and untracked. It is entirely possible, according to park officials, for someone to become lost in such terrain and remain undiscovered for years, if not indefinitely. As autumn turned to winter, hope faded. The Brener family held a small memorial service in Boulder. Though they did not declare Daniel and Clare legally dead, they continued to believe that answers would eventually emerge, even if those answers came too late.
The case file was moved to the inactive section of the Teton County Sheriff’s Database, where it joined dozens of other unsolved disappearances that had occurred in the national parks over the decades. The silver Subaru Outback was retrieved from the trailhead parking lot and returned to Clare’s sister, who stored it in her garage, unable to bring herself to sell it. For two years, nothing changed. The mountains kept their secrets, and the Brener family lived in a state of painful uncertainty.
Then, in late July of 2018, a solo backpacker named Trevor Dawson was hiking in a remote area of the park several miles northwest of the Death Canyon Trail. Dawson was an experienced wilderness traveler who often ventured into less-traveled areas to avoid crowds and find solitude. He had been exploring a series of narrow ravines and rocky outcrops when he noticed something unusual: a faint but distinct smell of smoke.
It was not the acrid scent of a wildfire, but the familiar odor of burning wood, the kind produced by a small campfire. Curious and slightly concerned, Dawson followed the scent uphill, moving carefully through a field of loose scree and scattered boulders. After about 20 minutes, he reached the base of a steep rock face that rose nearly 40 feet above the surrounding terrain. At first, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, but as he moved closer, he noticed a dark opening in the rock, partially obscured by a tangle of juniper branches and weathered driftwood.
It was a cave, and from within it, he could hear faint sounds—a low murmur of voices, irregular and indistinct. Dawson called out, identifying himself as a fellow hiker and asking if anyone needed assistance. The response he received was not what he expected. Instead of a clear reply or a call for help, there was a sudden rustling noise followed by a high-pitched, almost animal-like shriek. Then silence. Dawson stood still, uncertain whether to proceed or retreat.
He called out again, this time more cautiously, explaining that he meant no harm and was simply checking to see if anyone was in trouble. After a long pause, a voice emerged from the darkness of the cave. It was hoarse, broken, and barely coherent. The words were difficult to make out, but Dawson later recalled in his official statement that the voice said something like, “Go away. They will see you. They will know.” Alarmed but unable to ignore the possibility that someone was injured or in distress, Dawson approached the cave entrance slowly.
He pulled a flashlight from his pack and shone it into the opening. What he saw stopped him cold. Two figures were crouched near the back of the cave, huddled together against the stone wall. They were filthy, their clothing torn and stained with dirt, ash, and what appeared to be dried blood. Their hair was long, matted, and tangled with debris. One of them, a man, had a thick, unkempt beard that hung down to his chest. The other, a woman, had hair so snarled that it formed a kind of wild halo around her face. Both were barefoot, their feet blackened and calloused.
Their eyes reflected the flashlight beam like those of nocturnal animals, wide and unblinking. Dawson spoke softly, trying to calm them. He asked if they were hurt, if they needed food or water, if they wanted him to call for help. The woman began rocking back and forth, muttering under her breath in a rhythmic, repetitive pattern. The man raised one hand as if to shield his face from the light, then suddenly lunged forward, not to attack, but in a jerky, uncoordinated movement that suggested confusion rather than aggression. He shouted something unintelligible, a string of syllables that did not form any recognizable words.
Dawson took a step back, his heart pounding. He realized immediately that these were not ordinary lost hikers. Something was profoundly wrong. He asked again more gently whether they were Daniel and Clare Brener. At the mention of those names, the woman stopped rocking. Her head tilted to one side, and for a brief moment, her expression seemed to shift from blank terror to something resembling recognition. But then she shook her head violently as if trying to dispel a thought and resumed her muttering. The man retreated further into the cave, dragging the woman with him. Dawson did not follow. He understood that approaching them further might provoke panic or even violence.
Instead, he backed out of the cave entrance, returned to a safe distance, and immediately activated the emergency beacon on his satellite communication device. Within minutes, he was connected to a dispatcher at the Teton County Sheriff’s Office. He described the situation as clearly as he could—two individuals, male and female, living in a cave, appearing severely malnourished and mentally unstable, possible match for the missing persons case from 2016. The dispatcher instructed him to remain in the area but not to re-enter the cave or attempt any further contact. A rescue team was mobilized immediately.
By early evening, a helicopter carrying four park rangers and two paramedics was airborne, heading toward the coordinates Dawson had provided. The terrain was too rugged for the helicopter to land nearby, so the team was dropped at a clearing roughly half a mile away. They hiked in on foot, carrying medical supplies, blankets, food, and equipment for a potential extraction. When they arrived at the cave just before dusk, Dawson was waiting outside. He briefed the rangers on what he had seen and heard, emphasizing that the individuals inside seemed unable or unwilling to communicate clearly.
The lead ranger, a woman named Patricia Langford with over 15 years of experience in wilderness rescue, approached the cave entrance cautiously. She announced her presence in a calm, steady voice, explaining that she and her team were there to help, that no one was in trouble and that they only wanted to make sure everyone was safe. There was no immediate response. Langford waited, then repeated her message. After nearly a minute, the man’s voice emerged from the darkness. This time, his words were slightly more coherent. He said, “We cannot leave. They are watching. They will not let us go.”
Langford exchanged glances with her team. She asked who was watching. The man did not answer directly. Instead, he began to speak rapidly in a low, urgent tone, describing shapes in the trees, eyes in the rocks, voices that came at night, and told them to stay hidden. His speech was fragmented, jumping from one thought to another without clear connections. The woman, meanwhile, had begun to hum, a tuneless droning sound that filled the cave and spilled out into the evening air.
One of the paramedics, a man named Joel Pritchard, suggested that they might be dealing with severe psychological trauma, possibly exacerbated by malnutrition, dehydration, and prolonged isolation. He recommended a non-threatening approach, offering food and water first, then gradually building trust before attempting to move them. Langford agreed. She instructed one of the rangers to prepare several bottles of water and some energy bars. She placed these items just inside the cave entrance, within reach, but not so close as to seem intrusive. Then she stepped back.
She told the couple that the supplies were there whenever they were ready, and that no one would force them to do anything. For several minutes, nothing happened. Then slowly, the man crawled forward. His movements were hesitant, jerky, as if he were not fully in control of his own body. He reached out, grabbed one of the water bottles, and retreated. The sound of him drinking was audible—desperate gulps followed by coughing. The woman did not move. The team waited. Night was falling and the temperature was beginning to drop.
Langford knew they could not leave the couple in the cave overnight without medical evaluation. But she also knew that forcing them out could result in injury or further psychological harm. She decided to try a different approach. She asked the man his name. There was a long pause. Then in a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Daniel.” The confirmation sent a ripple of shock through the team. This was Daniel Brener, and the woman with him was almost certainly Clare.
Langford immediately radioed the information back to base. The dispatcher contacted the Teton County Sheriff’s Department, which in turn reached out to the Brener family. Within the hour, Clare’s sister was on the phone with the rescue coordinator, confirming physical descriptions and providing any details that might help with identification. Meanwhile, at the cave, the team continued their careful effort to establish communication.
Langford asked Daniel if he remembered coming to Grand Teton, if he remembered starting a hike in August of 2016. He nodded slowly, but his eyes remained unfocused, darting around as if searching for something invisible. She asked if he and Clare had been in the cave the entire time. He shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again. His answers were contradictory, unreliable. Clare, for her part, had stopped humming. She was now staring at the cave entrance, her expression blank, but her body tense as if poised to flee.
Pritchard, the paramedic, took a step closer and knelt down, making himself less physically imposing. He spoke directly to Clare, introducing himself by name and explaining that he was there to help, that she was safe, and that no one was going to hurt her. She did not respond, but her breathing slowed slightly, a small sign that she might be processing his words. Over the next two hours, the team employed a gradual, patient strategy. They offered more food and water, which both Daniel and Clare eventually accepted. They spoke in calm, reassuring tones, avoiding sudden movements or loud noises. They did not press for answers or explanations, focusing instead on building a fragile sense of safety.
Finally, as the last light faded from the sky and the stars began to appear above the canyon, Daniel spoke again. He said, “If we leave, they will find us.” Langford asked who he was afraid of. Daniel’s response was chilling in its simplicity. “The ones who live here, the ones who watch.” It was clear to everyone present that Daniel and Clare were experiencing severe delusions, likely the result of prolonged trauma and isolation. The question of what had actually happened to them, how they had ended up in this cave, and why they had not been found during the initial search remained unanswered. But the immediate priority was getting them out and into medical care.
Langford made the decision to proceed with a gentle but firm extraction. She explained to Daniel and Clare that they needed to come with the team, that they would be taken somewhere warm and safe where doctors could help them. Daniel resisted at first, shaking his head and retreating further into the cave. But Clare unexpectedly stood up. Her legs were unsteady, and she had to brace herself against the cave wall. But she took a step toward the entrance. Daniel watched her, his expression torn between fear and confusion. Then slowly, he followed.
The team moved carefully, surrounding the couple without crowding them, offering hands to steady them as they stepped out into the open air. Both Daniel and Clare flinched at the sight of the darkening sky, as if the expanse above them was something hostile and unfamiliar. They were wrapped in thermal blankets and guided slowly down the slope toward the clearing where the helicopter waited. The extraction took nearly an hour. When they finally reached the helicopter, both Daniel and Clare were physically exhausted, their legs shaking from the effort of walking even a short distance. They were loaded carefully into the aircraft, strapped into seats, and given additional water and medical monitoring equipment.
Pritchard checked their vital signs and noted that both were severely dehydrated, malnourished, and suffering from what appeared to be exposure-related injuries, including infected cuts on their feet and hands. Their heart rates were elevated, their blood pressure irregular, and their pupils were dilated in a way that suggested extreme stress or possible neurological disturbance. During the short flight to the hospital in Jackson, neither Daniel nor Clare spoke. They sat rigid in their seats, staring straight ahead, occasionally flinching at the vibrations of the helicopter or the voices of the crew members.
When Pritchard tried to examine Clare’s hands more closely, she pulled away sharply and began to shake. He did not press further. The helicopter landed at St. John’s Medical Center just after 10:00 in the evening. A team of emergency room physicians and psychiatric specialists had been briefed on the situation and were waiting in the trauma bay. Daniel and Clare were taken directly into separate examination rooms, though hospital staff made sure the rooms were adjacent so that neither would feel completely isolated from the other.
Dr. Raymond Kelly, the attending physician who oversaw Clare’s initial evaluation, later described her condition in his medical report as one of the most severe cases of neglect and psychological distress he had encountered in 15 years of emergency medicine. Her body weight was approximately 30% below normal for her height and build. Her skin was covered in sores, insect bites, and what appeared to be self-inflicted scratches. Her hair, which had once been shoulder-length and well-maintained, according to photographs, was now a tangled mass that had to be carefully cut away in sections to allow for proper hygiene and examination.
Her fingernails were broken and embedded with dirt and organic material. When blood samples were taken, initial tests revealed severe vitamin deficiencies, elevated stress hormones, and markers consistent with chronic starvation. Daniel’s condition was similarly grave. Dr. Philip Grantham, who examined him, noted extensive muscle wasting, signs of frostbite on several toes, and multiple healed fractures in his left hand that had never been properly set. His beard and hair were infested with lice, and his teeth showed signs of decay and damage consistent with a diet lacking in basic nutrition. Like Clare, he was dangerously underweight and dehydrated.
Both were admitted to the intensive care unit and placed under continuous observation. Over the first 72 hours, their physical conditions slowly stabilized. They were given intravenous fluids, antibiotics to treat infections, and carefully measured amounts of food to avoid refeeding syndrome, a potentially fatal condition that can occur when nutrition is reintroduced too quickly to a starving body. However, their psychological states remained deeply troubling. Clare did not speak at all during the first two days. She would lie in bed with her eyes open, staring at the ceiling or the walls, occasionally whimpering or rocking her body from side to side.
When nurses approached to check her vitals or change her bandages, she would recoil and sometimes cry out, though she never formed words. Dr. Amelia Frost, a clinical psychologist brought in to assess her, noted in her preliminary evaluation that Clare exhibited symptoms consistent with severe post-traumatic stress disorder, possible psychosis, and what might be described as catatonic episodes. She recommended that Clare be transferred to the psychiatric wing as soon as her medical condition allowed.
Daniel, by contrast, did speak, but his words were fragmented and often nonsensical. He would answer questions with unrelated statements, shift abruptly from one topic to another, or lapse into long stretches of muttering in which he seemed to be addressing someone who was not present. When asked what had happened during the two years he and Clare had been missing, he would become agitated and insist that they had not been missing, that they had been exactly where they needed to be, that leaving the cave had been a mistake.
He repeatedly mentioned being watched, being followed, and being warned by voices that came from the rocks and the trees. When pressed for specifics, he could not provide coherent details. On the fourth day, Clare spoke her first words. A nurse had entered her room to deliver a meal tray, and as she set it down on the bedside table, Clare looked directly at her and said in a flat, emotionless tone, “They told us not to eat the red ones.”
The nurse asked what she meant. Clare did not respond. She turned her face back toward the wall and did not speak again for several more hours. Later that evening, however, she began to talk more freely, though her statements were disjointed and difficult to interpret. She spoke about shadows that moved when no one was looking, about sounds in the night that were not made by animals, about a presence that lived deep inside the mountain and demanded silence. She said that she and Daniel had tried to leave many times, but every time they attempted to walk away from the cave, they became disoriented and ended up back where they had started.
She described an overwhelming fear that gripped them whenever they ventured too far from the shelter of the stone walls, a fear so intense that it felt physical, like a hand pressing down on their chests. The medical and psychiatric team struggled to make sense of these accounts. Dr. Frost noted that both Daniel and Clare exhibited signs of shared psychotic disorder, also known as folie à deux, a rare condition in which delusional beliefs are transmitted from one individual to another, typically in situations of intense isolation and emotional dependence.
However, the specifics of their delusions were unusual. Most cases of shared psychosis involve relatively simple or culturally familiar themes such as persecution by external enemies or religious experiences. The themes described by Daniel and Clare were more abstract and seemed to center on the environment itself, as if the landscape had become a hostile, sentient force. Dr. Frost also noted that their accounts, while clearly detached from reality, were consistent with each other. Both described the same types of experiences, the same fears, the same inexplicable inability to leave the area.
This consistency suggested that whatever psychological break they had experienced, it had been mutual and reinforcing. While the medical team worked to stabilize and evaluate the couple, investigators from the Teton County Sheriff’s Department began the process of piecing together what had actually happened. Detective Laura Simmons was assigned to lead the investigation. She was an experienced officer with a background in missing persons cases and had been involved in the original search for Daniel and Clare back in 2016.
When she learned that they had been found alive, her first reaction was disbelief, followed by a flood of questions. How had they survived for two years in the wilderness? Why had they not been found during the extensive search? What had prevented them from signaling for help or walking out on their own? Simmons began by interviewing Trevor Dawson, the hiker who had discovered the couple. Dawson provided a detailed account of his encounter, including descriptions of the cave, the condition of the individuals, and the strange frightened way they had behaved.
He also mentioned the smell of smoke, which suggested that Daniel and Clare had been maintaining some kind of fire, possibly for warmth or cooking. This was an important detail, as it indicated a degree of survival capability and planning. Next, Simmons coordinated with park rangers to organize a thorough examination of the cave and its surroundings. A team was dispatched to the site with instructions to document everything, take photographs, collect any objects or materials that might provide insight, and assess whether there were any environmental factors that could explain the couple’s prolonged presence in such a remote location.
The team arrived at the cave two days after the rescue. What they found was both enlightening and disturbing. The cave itself was not large—approximately 15 feet deep and 8 feet wide at its widest point—with a low sloping ceiling that made it impossible to stand upright in most areas. The floor was covered with a thick layer of pine needles, leaves, dried grass, and what appeared to be animal fur, suggesting that Daniel and Clare had constructed a crude bedding area.
In one corner, there was a small fire pit made from stacked stones filled with charred wood and ash. Nearby, the team found several empty food wrappers, the remnants of the freeze-dried meals the couple had brought with them on their original hike. These wrappers were dated and matched the brands and types listed in their gear inventory. However, there were far too few wrappers to account for two years of survival. This raised an immediate question: what had they been eating?
Further examination of the cave revealed scattered animal bones, including the remains of small rodents, birds, and what appeared to be part of a rabbit skeleton. There were also piles of foraged materials—wild berries, roots, edible plants, and fungi. Some of the plant species were correctly identified as safe for consumption, while others were toxic or hallucinogenic. The presence of toxic plants was particularly significant, as it offered a potential explanation for the psychological disturbances both Daniel and Clare were experiencing.
One of the rangers, a botanist with expertise in local flora, identified several specimens of Amanita muscaria, commonly known as fly agaric, a mushroom known for its psychoactive properties. Consuming this species, especially over a prolonged period, can cause hallucinations, confusion, altered perception, and severe cognitive impairment. The botanist also identified traces of water hemlock, a highly poisonous plant that can cause seizures, delirium, and death if ingested in sufficient quantities.
It was unclear whether Daniel and Clare had consumed these plants intentionally, mistakenly, or out of sheer desperation, but their presence in the cave strongly suggested that at least part of the couple’s erratic behavior and delusional thinking could be attributed to accidental or chronic poisoning. The investigative team also discovered several items that raised further questions. A small notebook, its pages warped and stained, was found wedged between two rocks near the entrance of the cave.
The handwriting inside was barely legible, deteriorating from neat, organized entries at the beginning to frantic, illegible scrawls toward the end. The first few pages appeared to be standard trail notes documenting their initial progress along the Death Canyon Trail, observations about wildlife, weather conditions, and campsites they had planned to use. The entries were dated, beginning on August 15th, 2016, the day they started their hike. The last dated entry was August 17th, just two days into their trip.
This entry was brief and written in Clare’s handwriting, as confirmed later by a handwriting analyst who compared it to samples provided by her family. It read, “Lost the main trail. Followed a deer path, thinking it would loop back. Now we are somewhere we do not recognize. The map does not match the terrain. Daniel thinks we should head east toward higher ground. We’ll try in the morning.” After that, the entries became undated and increasingly fragmented. Some pages contained only scattered words or phrases such as “no signal,” “tried twice,” “saw smoke but could not reach it,” and “Daniel says we are being followed.”
One page about halfway through the notebook contained a single sentence written in large, shaky letters that read, “Do not trust the voices.” The final pages of the notebook were the most disturbing. The handwriting devolved into chaotic loops and slashes, with words written over each other, sometimes upside down or sideways. Sentences were incomplete, punctuation was absent, and the content was disjointed and surreal. Phrases like, “They come at night,” “The mountain is alive,” “We cannot leave the circle,” and “Red eyes in the stones” appeared repeatedly.
On the very last page, someone had drawn a crude map or diagram. It showed a rough circle with several small marks inside, possibly representing the cave or nearby landmarks, and a series of lines radiating outward that ended in X marks. The meaning of the diagram was unclear, but investigators speculated it might have been an attempt to map their surroundings or record places they had tried to reach and failed.
In addition to the notebook, the team found a damaged two-way radio, the same one the couple had checked out from the ranger station before their hike. The device was partially crushed, as if it had been struck with a rock or dropped from a significant height. The battery compartment was corroded and empty. It was unclear whether the radio had been deliberately destroyed or simply broken through misuse or accident. Either way, it explained why Daniel and Clare had never called for help, even though they had possessed the means to do so at the start of their journey.
The team also recovered fragments of their original camping gear. A torn section of tent fabric was found stuffed into a crevice. Portions of a sleeping bag were scattered around the cave floor, and a single trekking pole snapped in half lay near the fire pit. The condition of these items suggested that the couple had either dismantled their gear for other purposes, lost it during some kind of struggle or accident, or simply allowed it to deteriorate over time.
One detail that particularly troubled the investigators was the lack of any evidence that Daniel and Clare had attempted to signal for help during the two years they were missing. There were no markers left along trails, no SOS messages written in rocks or dirt, no brightly colored fabric tied to trees, none of the standard distress signals that lost hikers are taught to use. It was as if they had either chosen not to be found or had become so psychologically impaired that they no longer understood the concept of rescue.
Detective Simmons reviewed all the physical evidence alongside the medical reports and witness statements. She then requested a formal psychiatric evaluation to determine whether Daniel and Clare were capable of providing reliable testimony about their experiences. Dr. Frost, along with a second psychiatrist named Dr. Ian Holloway, conducted a series of interviews over the course of two weeks. The goal was to assess their mental competency, understand the progression of their psychological decline, and, if possible, reconstruct the timeline of events.
The interviews were conducted separately to avoid any mutual reinforcement of delusional beliefs. Dr. Frost worked with Clare while Dr. Holloway focused on Daniel. Both sessions were recorded and later transcribed for the official case file. Clare’s sessions were slow and painful. For the first few days, she would only respond to direct questions with single-word answers or silence. Gradually, with careful prompting and a consistent, non-threatening environment, she began to speak in longer sentences.
According to Dr. Frost’s notes, Clare recalled the early part of the hike clearly. She remembered checking in at the visitor center, starting the trail, feeling excited about the trip, and enjoying the first few miles of the hike. She remembered meeting other hikers and exchanging pleasantries. But her memory became hazy when describing the events of the second and third days. She said that they had taken a wrong turn while trying to find a scenic overlook that was not marked on their map. They had followed what looked like a trail, but it became narrower and less defined, eventually disappearing altogether.
By the time they realized they were lost, it was late afternoon, and the terrain around them was unfamiliar. They tried to retrace their steps, but everything looked the same: dense forest, rocky slopes, and no clear landmarks. Clare explained that they decided to make camp and wait until morning to reassess. That night, she said they heard sounds. At first, they thought it was wildlife, perhaps a bear or an elk moving through the brush, but the sounds were irregular, almost rhythmic, and seemed to come from multiple directions at once.
Daniel suggested it might be other hikers, but when they called out, there was no response. The sounds continued throughout the night, stopping and starting without pattern. By morning, both of them were exhausted and on edge. They tried to use the two-way radio to contact park rangers, but they could not get a signal. They attempted to navigate using their compass and map, but the topography did not match what they expected. Clare described feeling an increasing sense of disorientation, as if the landscape was shifting or refusing to cooperate.
They walked for hours, trying to find a recognizable trail or landmark, but instead found themselves moving in what felt like circles. At some point, Clare could not say exactly when, they found the cave. It seemed like a safe place to rest and regroup. They intended to stay for only a night or two, but days began to blur together. She could not explain why they did not simply pick a direction and walk until they found help. When Dr. Frost pressed her on this, Clare became visibly distressed.
She said that every time they tried to leave, something stopped them. She described it as a feeling, a deep, overwhelming dread that grew stronger the farther they moved from the cave. She said it felt like the forest itself did not want them to leave, that the trees and rocks were watching, waiting for them to make a mistake. Dr. Frost asked whether Clare believed this was real or a product of fear and stress. Clare hesitated, then said she did not know anymore.
She admitted that after a certain point, she could no longer distinguish between what was real and what was not. She said that hunger, exhaustion, and fear had broken down her ability to think clearly. She also acknowledged that she and Daniel had eaten plants they were not sure about, some of which made them feel sick or caused strange dreams. Dr. Frost noted in her report that Clare showed signs of insight into her condition, a positive indicator for potential recovery.
However, she also exhibited deep-seated trauma and residual paranoia that would require long-term therapeutic intervention. Daniel’s interviews followed a similar pattern, though his responses were more volatile and less coherent. Dr. Holloway noted that Daniel would often start answering a question, then veer off into tangents that had no clear connection to the topic. He spoke frequently about being watched, describing in vivid detail the sensation of eyes on him whenever he stepped outside the cave. He claimed that there were figures in the trees, tall and thin, that never moved when he looked directly at them, but shifted position when he turned away.
He said these figures did not speak, but they communicated through sounds—low hums, clicks, and whispers that seemed to come from the ground itself. When Dr. Holloway asked whether Daniel thought these figures were real, he became agitated and insisted that they were, that Clare had seen them too, and that the only reason they had survived was because they had learned to stay quiet and avoid drawing attention. He described a set of rules they had developed: do not leave the cave after dark, do not make loud noises, do not eat the red berries, do not look directly at the shapes in the trees. He said that breaking these rules resulted in punishment, though he could not clearly explain what form that punishment took. Sometimes it was illness. Other times it was intense fear or the sensation of being chased even though nothing was visibly pursuing them.
Dr. Holloway noted that Daniel’s account bore the hallmarks of delusional disorder, but it was also possible that he was describing real experiences that had been distorted by psychological stress and the influence of hallucinogenic plants. The boundary between reality and delusion in Daniel’s case was nearly impossible to define. Both psychiatrists concluded that Daniel and Clare had suffered a shared psychological break, likely triggered by the initial trauma of becoming lost, compounded by starvation, exposure, isolation, and the consumption of toxic or psychoactive plants.
Their delusions had reinforced each other, creating a closed feedback loop in which fear and paranoia became self-sustaining. Over time, their ability to think rationally or take action to save themselves had eroded completely. They had, in essence, become prisoners of their own minds. Detective Simmons used these evaluations to construct a working theory of what had happened. According to her report, Daniel and Clare Brener had become disoriented on the second or third day of their hike, likely due to a navigational error. They had wandered off the main trail and into an area that was not part of their planned route. Unable to find their way back and unable to communicate with the outside world due to the broken or non-functional radio, they had taken shelter in the cave.
Over the following weeks, their physical condition deteriorated due to lack of proper food and clean water. In their desperation, they began foraging for wild plants and fungi, inadvertently consuming species that caused hallucinations, nausea, and cognitive impairment. The combination of malnutrition, dehydration, and repeated exposure to psychoactive and toxic substances severely damaged their mental functioning. The isolation and constant fear further destabilized their psychological state, leading to the development of shared delusions.
These delusions created a belief system in which leaving the cave was not only dangerous but impossible, effectively trapping them in a prison of their own creation. The extensive search operation conducted in 2016 had failed to locate them because the cave was situated in an area that was not part of their registered itinerary and was hidden from aerial view by dense tree cover and natural rock formations. Ground search teams had come within a few miles of the location, but without any clear indication that the couple had traveled in that direction, the cave had never been directly searched.
The fact that Daniel and Clare had not attempted to signal for help during the two years they were missing meant that even when searchers were nearby, there was no way to detect their presence. Simmons also consulted with a wilderness survival expert to assess whether it was plausible for two people to survive for two years in such conditions. The expert confirmed that while extremely difficult, it was not impossible. The region around Grand Teton contains sufficient natural resources—water from seasonal streams, edible plants, small game, and shelter in the form of caves and rock overhangs—to sustain human life for extended periods, provided the individuals had some basic knowledge of foraging and survival techniques.
However, the expert also emphasized that such survival would come at a tremendous physical and psychological cost, exactly what had been observed in Daniel and Clare. The findings of the investigation were compiled into a comprehensive report and submitted to the National Park Service, the Teton County Sheriff’s Department, and the families of Daniel and Clare Brener. The report concluded that the couple’s disappearance and prolonged absence were the result of a tragic combination of navigational error, equipment failure, environmental factors, and severe psychological deterioration. No evidence of foul play, criminal activity, or third-party involvement was found.
The case was officially closed as a resolved missing person’s incident with no criminal charges filed. However, the resolution of the case did not mark the end of the ordeal for Daniel and Clare. Both remained hospitalized for several more weeks as their physical health slowly improved. Clare gained weight gradually. Her infections were treated successfully and her vital signs returned to near-normal levels. Daniel’s recovery was similarly steady, though his frostbitten toes required minor surgical intervention, and the fractures in his hand were set and placed in a cast.
Psychologically, the road ahead was much longer and far more uncertain. Both were transferred to a specialized psychiatric facility in Idaho that focused on trauma recovery and long-term rehabilitation. There, they began intensive therapy aimed at helping them process their experiences, rebuild their cognitive functioning, and regain a sense of reality and safety. Dr. Frost continued to work with Clare on a consulting basis, while Dr. Holloway coordinated Daniel’s treatment plan.
The therapeutic approach involved a combination of cognitive behavioral therapy, trauma-focused counseling, and carefully monitored medication to manage anxiety, depression, and residual psychotic symptoms. Both Daniel and Clare were also introduced to nutritional rehabilitation programs to address the lasting physical effects of prolonged starvation. Progress was slow. In the early weeks, Clare experienced frequent nightmares and panic attacks, particularly at night or in enclosed spaces. She would sometimes wake up screaming, convinced that she was back in the cave and that something was coming for her.
Daniel struggled with paranoia and hypervigilance, constantly checking windows and doors, insisting that he could hear sounds that no one else heard. He had difficulty trusting the staff and would sometimes refuse food or medication, fearing it was contaminated or meant to harm him. Despite these challenges, both showed gradual signs of improvement. Clare began to speak more openly about her experiences. And with the help of her therapist, she started to distinguish between memories that were real and those that were distortions or hallucinations.
She acknowledged that many of the things she had believed while in the cave—the watching figures, the sentient forest, the rules she and Daniel had invented—were products of her deteriorating mental state rather than objective reality. This realization was both painful and liberating. It allowed her to begin reclaiming a sense of agency and understanding. Daniel’s progress was slower and more uneven. He continued to struggle with the conviction that some of what he had experienced was real. Even after months of therapy, he would occasionally insist that there had been something in the forest, something that he could not explain, but that had been undeniably present.
His therapists worked with him to reframe these beliefs, helping him understand that the human mind, especially under extreme stress, is capable of creating vivid and convincing experiences that feel entirely real but are not grounded in external fact. Over time, Daniel began to accept this framework, though he never fully let go of the feeling that there had been more to their ordeal than just fear and illness. As the months passed, both Daniel and Clare were gradually reintegrated into more normal daily routines. They participated in group therapy sessions with other trauma survivors, engaged in occupational therapy to rebuild basic life skills, and were slowly reintroduced to the outside world through supervised outings and family visits.
Clare’s sister visited regularly, providing emotional support and helping to reconnect Clare with the life she had left behind. Daniel’s parents, who lived in Colorado, also made frequent trips to the facility, though the reunions were often difficult and emotionally charged. By the end of 2018, nearly six months after their rescue, both Daniel and Clare had been deemed stable enough to transition to outpatient care. They were discharged from the psychiatric facility and returned to their respective families. Clare moved in with her sister in Jackson, while Daniel returned to his parents’ home in Boulder. Both continued therapy on a weekly basis and remained on medication to manage their symptoms.
The question of whether they would ever fully recover remained open. Their therapists emphasized that trauma of this magnitude leaves lasting marks. And while significant healing is possible, some effects may be permanent. Both Daniel and Clare would likely struggle with anxiety, flashbacks, and trust issues for years to come. Their ability to return to independent living, maintain relationships, or resume careers was uncertain. The media coverage of their rescue and recovery was extensive. News outlets across the country ran stories about the couple who had vanished into the wilderness and been found two years later alive but deeply changed.
The case sparked widespread discussion about the dangers of backcountry hiking, the importance of proper preparation and communication equipment, and the psychological resilience required to survive extreme isolation. Some commentators praised Daniel and Clare for their survival instincts, while others questioned why they had not done more to signal for help or find their way out. Online forums and social media platforms were filled with speculation and debate. Some people suggested that the couple’s story did not add up, that there must have been more to their disappearance than the official explanation provided. A few conspiracy theorists proposed outlandish ideas—that they had been abducted, that they had encountered something paranormal, or that they had been hiding intentionally.
These theories were fueled in part by the more bizarre elements of Daniel and Clare’s accounts—the watching figures, the voices, the sense of being trapped by an invisible force. However, experts in psychology, wilderness medicine, and survival science consistently pointed to the well-documented effects of starvation, isolation, and plant toxicity as sufficient explanations for everything the couple had described.
The National Park Service used the case as an opportunity to reinforce public safety messaging. They released updated guidelines for backcountry hikers, emphasizing the importance of staying on marked trails, carrying reliable communication devices, registering trip plans with park authorities, and understanding the risks of foraging for wild food. They also highlighted the story of Daniel and Clare as a cautionary tale—not to discourage people from exploring the wilderness, but to remind them that nature, while beautiful, is also unforgiving and that even experienced hikers can find themselves in life-threatening situations if things go wrong.
In the years following their rescue, Daniel and Clare chose to live very different lives. Clare, with the support of her sister and her therapist, gradually rebuilt a sense of normalcy. She resumed some freelance design work, though on a limited basis, and began volunteering with a local mental health advocacy organization. She gave a single public interview in 2019 in which she spoke candidly about her experiences and the long process of recovery. She emphasized the importance of mental health care and the need for greater awareness about the psychological risks faced by people in extreme survival situations.
She also expressed gratitude to Trevor Dawson, the hiker who had found them, and to the rescue teams who had brought them to safety. Daniel, on the other hand, remained more withdrawn. He rarely spoke publicly about what had happened and declined all interview requests. According to his family, he struggled with reintegration and found it difficult to resume any semblance of his former life. He attempted to return to work as a software engineer in late 2019, but the demands of the job and the stress of interacting with colleagues proved overwhelming. He left the position after only a few weeks and did not seek employment again. Instead, he spent most of his time at his parents’ home, engaging in quiet, solitary activities such as reading, drawing, and taking short walks in controlled, familiar environments.
He avoided forests, mountains, and any natural settings that resembled the terrain around Grand Teton. His therapist noted that Daniel continued to experience intrusive thoughts and sensory flashbacks—moments when he would suddenly feel as though he were back in the cave, surrounded by darkness and the imagined presence of unseen watchers. These episodes decreased in frequency over time, but they never fully disappeared. In 2020, Daniel and Clare reconnected briefly through a therapist-mediated session designed to help both of them process their shared trauma. The meeting was emotional and difficult. They had not seen each other since their rescue, and both had changed significantly—not just physically, but in the way they carried themselves and related to the world.
According to Dr. Frost, who facilitated the session, the meeting allowed them to acknowledge what they had been through together and to begin the process of separating their individual identities from the shared nightmare they had experienced. They spoke about the cave, the fear, the confusion, and the gradual dissolution of their sense of reality. They also spoke about the love and partnership that had sustained them even in the darkest moments, and the guilt they both felt for not being able to help each other more effectively. At the end of the session, they agreed that while they would always share a bond forged in suffering, they needed to move forward separately.
Their romantic relationship, which had been strained to the breaking point by the trauma, could not be rebuilt. They parted on amicable terms, each wishing the other healing and peace. The divorce was finalized quietly in early 2021. By 2022, Daniel had moved out of his parents’ home and into a small apartment in a suburban area outside Denver. He lived a quiet, structured life, maintained regular therapy appointments, and had begun to engage in online support groups for trauma survivors. He found some solace in connecting with others who had experienced extreme psychological distress, even if their circumstances were different from his own. He also developed an interest in creative writing, using it as a means to process and externalize his experiences.
He never published anything, but his therapist encouraged the practice as a healthy outlet for emotions that were difficult to articulate in conversation. Clare, by contrast, found a measure of public purpose in her recovery. In 2021, she co-founded a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting the families of missing persons and providing resources for individuals who had survived traumatic wilderness experiences. The organization offered counseling referrals, educational materials about wilderness safety, and advocacy for improved search and rescue protocols in national parks.
Clare became a spokesperson for mental health awareness in the outdoor recreation community, speaking at conferences and writing articles about the psychological risks of extended isolation and the importance of preparation and communication. Her work was widely respected, and she received recognition from several outdoor and mental health organizations for her efforts. She never returned to Grand Teton National Park, and she avoided hiking altogether, but she channeled her experience into something that could help others avoid similar fates.
The case of Daniel and Clare Brener remained a subject of study in both psychiatric and wilderness survival communities. Several academic papers were published analyzing the psychological mechanisms that had led to their shared delusions, the role of environmental stressors and cognitive decline, and the effects of toxic plant consumption on long-term mental health. Their story was also featured in a documentary series about survival and human resilience. Though both Daniel and Clare declined to participate directly in the production, the filmmakers relied instead on interviews with the rescue team, the medical professionals who had treated them, and Detective Simmons, who provided detailed insights into the investigation.
The documentary was well-received and brought renewed attention to the importance of mental health support for individuals who experience extreme trauma in isolated environments. In the fall of 2023, Trevor Dawson, the hiker who had discovered Daniel and Clare, published a short memoir about his experience. In it, he reflected on the moment he had looked into that cave and seen two human beings who had been swallowed by the wilderness and transformed by it. He wrote about the ethical responsibility he felt as someone who had stumbled upon their suffering and the relief he experienced knowing that his decision to report what he had seen had ultimately saved their lives. He dedicated the book to all those who go missing in the wild and to the searchers who never stopped looking.
The memoir became a modest bestseller and further cemented the story of Daniel and Clare Brener in the public consciousness. As of 2024, both Daniel and Clare continue to live separate lives, each marked indelibly by the two years they spent lost in the mountains of Wyoming. Their story serves as a stark reminder of the fragility of the human mind under extreme conditions, the power of fear and isolation to distort perception, and the thin line between survival and surrender. It also highlights the resilience of the human spirit, the capacity to endure unimaginable hardship, and the possibility, however difficult, of rebuilding a life after it has been shattered.
The Grand Teton National Park remains a place of breathtaking beauty and natural wonder, drawing hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. Most come and go without incident, marveling at the towering peaks, the pristine lakes, and the abundant wildlife. But for those who know the story of Daniel and Clare Brener, the landscape carries a darker resonance. It is a reminder that the wilderness, for all its majesty, is also a place of profound danger, where a single wrong turn can lead to a descent into isolation, fear, and madness.
The cave where they were found has since been marked on internal park service maps, though it is not advertised to the public. Rangers occasionally check the site during routine patrols, ensuring that no other lost souls have taken refuge there. The cave remains as it was—a dark hollow in the rock, littered with the remnants of human desperation. A place where two people fought to survive and nearly lost themselves in the process.
If you’ve made it this far in the story, take a moment to subscribe to the channel. These deep dives into real cases take time and research, and your support helps us continue bringing you detailed, thoughtful content. Hit that subscribe button and turn on notifications so you never miss a story. The official conclusion of the case brought a sense of closure to the authorities and to the public. But for those closest to Daniel and Clare, the questions never fully disappeared. Clare’s sister often wondered what might have happened if the search in 2016 had extended just a few miles further, if the helicopter had flown a different route, or if the dogs had picked up a stronger scent.
She wrestled with the knowledge that her sister had been so close, suffering in silence while the world moved on without her. Daniel’s parents struggled with similar feelings of guilt and helplessness, questioning whether they could have done something differently, insisted more strongly that the search continue, or sensed somehow that their son was still alive. These feelings are common among the families of those who go missing and are later found under traumatic circumstances. The relief of recovery is often mingled with grief for the time lost, the suffering endured, and the person who returns forever changed.
In the broader context of missing persons cases in national parks, the story of Daniel and Clare Brener is both unique and emblematic. According to data from the National Park Service, hundreds of people go missing in national parks each year. Most are found within days, alive and well, having simply strayed from marked paths or misjudged distances. A smaller number are found deceased—victims of falls, exposure, or medical emergencies. But a troubling percentage are never found at all, their fates remaining unknown, their stories unfinished.
The case of Daniel and Clare falls into a rare category: those who vanish completely, are presumed dead, and then reappear years later under circumstances that defy easy explanation. The psychological and medical communities have taken a particular interest in their case because it offers a rare opportunity to study the long-term effects of extreme survival conditions on the human mind and body. Follow-up studies conducted in the years after their rescue have documented ongoing challenges. Both continue to experience symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, including flashbacks, nightmares, and hyperarousal. Both have also shown some degree of cognitive recovery, particularly in areas related to memory and executive function, though neither has returned to their pre-2016 baseline.
The consumption of toxic plants combined with prolonged malnutrition appears to have caused some lasting neurological damage, particularly in Daniel’s case. Brain imaging studies conducted in 2019 revealed subtle abnormalities in regions associated with fear processing and emotional regulation, which may explain his continued struggles with anxiety and paranoia. One of the most haunting aspects of their story is the question of agency. To what extent were Daniel and Clare responsible for their own prolonged captivity, and to what extent were they victims of forces beyond their control?
The evidence suggests that in the early days and weeks of their disappearance, they retained the ability to make rational decisions. They attempted to use their radio. They tried to navigate, and they sought shelter. But as time went on and their physical and mental states deteriorated, their capacity for rational thought eroded. The delusions that took hold were not chosen. They were the product of a brain under siege, starved of nutrients, poisoned by plants, and overwhelmed by fear.
In this sense, Daniel and Clare were both survivors and prisoners, trapped not by physical barriers, but by the limitations of their own compromised minds. Their story raises important questions about how we understand survival, resilience, and responsibility in extreme situations. The Grand Teton case also prompted changes in park policy and search protocols. In the years following the discovery of Daniel and Clare, the National Park Service implemented new guidelines for extended searches, including the use of advanced drone technology, thermal imaging, and expanded search grids that extend beyond registered itineraries.
There has also been increased emphasis on educating hikers about the dangers of foraging and the psychological risks of prolonged isolation. Informational materials distributed at visitor centers now include warnings about the effects of fear and stress on decision-making and encourage hikers to establish regular check-in schedules with family or friends, even on short trips. The story has also resonated within the search and rescue community, serving as a reminder that even the most thorough efforts can miss someone, and that persistence, updated technology, and a bit of luck can sometimes bring people home, even years after hope has faded.
For Daniel and Clare, the years since their rescue have been a journey of small steps and hard-won victories. Both have learned to live with the scars, visible and invisible, that their ordeal left behind. Both have had to redefine what normal means and to accept that some things will never be the same. But both have also found moments of grace, connection, purpose, and even joy amid the ongoing struggle. Their story, tragic and harrowing as it is, also speaks to the enduring strength of the human spirit and the possibility of reclaiming life even after it has been torn apart.
It is a story that will continue to be told, studied, and remembered—not just as a cautionary tale, but as a testament to survival against all odds.
