MISSING IN CALIFORNIA — The mother of 9-year-old Melodee Buzzard, who vanished from Vandenberg Village last week, is reportedly refusing to cooperate with investigators.

Neighbors describe “sleepless nights and unanswered knocks” as police comb nearby woods and drainage canals. But a new twist has shaken the case — Melodee’s backpack was found less than a mile from home, yet her mother insists “someone planted it there.

In the quiet, military-adjacent enclave of Vandenberg Village, California, a small community’s sense of security has been shattered by the disappearance of 9-year-old Melodee Buzzard. What began as a routine welfare check last week has spiraled into a high-stakes investigation drawing national attention, with authorities from the Santa Barbara County Sheriff’s Office—and now the FBI—scrambling for leads. At the center of the storm is Ashlee Buzzard, Melodee’s mother, whose alleged refusal to assist investigators has left officials baffled and neighbors demanding answers. As search efforts expand across state lines, questions swirl: Where is Melodee, and why won’t her own mother help bring her home?

The case unfolded on October 14, 2025, when a vigilant school administrator from the Lompoc Unified School District flagged Melodee’s prolonged absence from her independent studies program. Melodee, described by family as a bright, loving child with a radiant smile, had not checked in since at least October 2024—nearly a full year prior. Deputies responded promptly to the family’s modest home in the 500 block of Mars Avenue, a tree-lined street in this close-knit neighborhood near Vandenberg Space Force Base. But upon arrival, they found only Ashlee Buzzard at the residence. Melodee was nowhere to be seen, and according to a sheriff’s press release, “no clear explanation was provided for her whereabouts.”

Initial reports painted a grim picture: Detectives could not verify any sightings of Melodee in the intervening months, and the most recent available photo of the girl—a snapshot capturing her wide-eyed innocence—was taken about two years ago. “This is an at-risk missing child case,” Sheriff’s Office spokesperson Lt. Raul Herrera emphasized in early statements, underscoring the urgency. Melodee, with her light brown hair, hazel eyes, and slight build standing around 4 feet tall, was last definitively seen in the family home sometime in late 2024. Homeschooled and somewhat isolated from extended family, her absence had gone unnoticed until the school’s intervention—a heartbreaking reminder of how easily children can slip through the cracks in America’s education system.

As news spread through Vandenberg Village—a community of about 3,000 residents, many tied to the nearby space launch facility—the reaction was swift and visceral. Neighbors gathered outside the Buzzard home, their faces etched with worry and frustration. “We’ve seen the mom around, but the little girl? Never in ages,” one resident, who asked not to be named for privacy reasons, told local reporters. Signs reading “Bring Melodee Home” sprouted on lawns, and a makeshift vigil lit up the evening sky with candles and stuffed animals. KSBY News reporter Crystal Bermudez captured the scene: a group of about two dozen locals pressing for transparency, chanting softly as sheriff’s deputies stood guard. “This is our neighborhood,” Bermudez quoted a mother of three. “We look out for each other. How could this happen right under our noses?”

The community’s outcry has only grown louder amid revelations about Ashlee Buzzard’s lack of cooperation. From the outset, detectives noted her reluctance to provide details. “She has been uncooperative with investigators,” the Sheriff’s Office stated bluntly in a October 17 update, adding that no verified information had surfaced regarding Melodee’s current location or well-being. Ashlee, 32, has a documented history that raises red flags for those close to the case. Family members, speaking on condition of anonymity, described her as “extremely mentally unstable” following the death of Melodee’s father several years ago. The tragedy, they say, severed ties; Melodee’s aunt revealed she hadn’t seen her niece in over four years after Ashlee cut off contact. “She’s always been erratic,” the aunt told the Los Angeles Times. “We begged her to get help, but she pushed everyone away.”

Investigators executed a search warrant on the Mars Avenue home shortly after Melodee’s absence was reported, but yielded little beyond confirming the girl’s belongings were still present. No signs of foul play emerged, yet the void of information from Ashlee fueled suspicions. “We’re not treating this as a criminal matter at this time,” Lt. Herrera clarified, “but her unwillingness to engage is hindering our efforts.” Online, the story exploded on platforms like X (formerly Twitter), where hashtags #FindMelodee and #JusticeForMelodee trended regionally. Posts from accounts like @AwarenessTCS and @CrimewatchersX amplified calls to action, sharing Melodee’s photo and urging tips to the sheriff’s tip line: 805-681-4150 or anonymously at 805-681-4171. One viral thread from true crime enthusiast @TrueCrimeUpdat garnered thousands of views, warning, “This isn’t just a missing child—it’s a family unraveling in plain sight.”

By October 18, a breakthrough—or at least a timeline shift—emerged. The Lompoc Unified School District, combing through records, confirmed Melodee had been sighted as recently as August 2025, narrowing the “missing” window from a year to mere months. This adjustment brought cautious relief but also sharpened focus on the intervening period. Then, on October 20, came the most dramatic update yet: Detectives pinpointed Melodee’s last confirmed sighting to October 7, 2025—just 13 days before the current date—with her mother at a local store in Lompoc. Surveillance footage, reviewed by authorities, showed the pair together, prompting an expansion of the search radius.

Now, the trail leads out of state. Investigators believe Ashlee rented a white Chevrolet Malibu in mid-October and may have driven Melodee eastward through Nevada, Colorado, Utah, and potentially as far as Nebraska. The vehicle was returned, but its route suggests a deliberate relocation. “We’re following every lead,” Herrera said in a Monday briefing, as the FBI officially joined the effort, leveraging interstate resources and databases. Melodee’s grandmother, speaking exclusively to KSBY, issued a tearful plea: “Melodee, if you’re out there, know we love you. Ashlee, please—just tell us she’s safe.”

This development has intensified scrutiny on Ashlee, whose silence speaks volumes. Legal experts note that while non-cooperation isn’t inherently criminal, it can lead to obstruction charges if evidence of endangerment surfaces. “In missing child cases involving parents, we often see custody disputes or mental health crises at play,” says Dr. Elena Vasquez, a child psychologist at UCLA specializing in family dynamics. “Refusal to engage can stem from fear, denial, or something more sinister. Either way, the child pays the price.”

Vandenberg Village, once a haven for Space Force families, now grapples with collective trauma. Community meetings at the local rec center overflow with parents swapping safety tips—installing Ring cameras, forming neighborhood watches. “It makes you hug your kids tighter,” one father admitted. Online forums buzz with speculation, though authorities urge restraint: “Tips, not theories,” as one X post from @sbsheriff put it.

Broader implications loom large. This case spotlights systemic gaps in monitoring homeschooled children, who comprise about 3.7% of U.S. students but often evade regular oversight. Advocacy groups like the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children (NCMEC) have amplified Melodee’s alert, partnering with the Sheriff’s Office to distribute flyers digitally and physically. “Every hour counts,” NCMEC’s executive director stated. “We’re hopeful the public’s eyes will spot her.”

As the sun sets on another day without Melodee, Vandenberg holds its breath. Ashlee Buzzard’s home remains quiet, a stark contrast to the whispers of hope echoing through the streets. For now, the search presses on—fueled by a mother’s silence and a community’s unyielding resolve. If you have information, no detail is too small. Call 805-681-4150. Melodee Buzzard deserves to come home.