In this quiet Virginia town, a football team whose coach went suspiciously missing is winning every game without him
Cheers rang out as hands lifted the gleaming trophy high, a symbol of victory for this undefeated small-town Virginia football team. But in the midst of Saturday’s celebration, one key figure was glaringly absent – someone who should have been at the heart of it all.
Eleven days earlier, Union High School football coach Travis Turner is believed by his family to have walked out of his home in Appalachia carrying a firearm, disappearing into the thick, mountainous woods. He hasn’t been seen since.
Virginia State Police said they were on their way to visit Turner at his home, but when they arrived, the coach was already gone. Days later, they announced that the coach is wanted on five counts of child pornography possession and five counts of using a computer to solicit a minor.
The United States Marshals Service is offering a reward of up to $5,000 for any information on Turner, the agency announced on its Facebook page Monday morning.
CNN has reached out to the agency for more information.
Brett Hall, the commonwealth’s attorney for Wise County, told CNN Wednesday over email his office “is aware of the ongoing investigation pertaining to charges against Union High School’s head football coach” but can’t comment further.
Turner, who was also listed as a physical education teacher at Union High School in a now-removed entry on the school’s online staff roster, was last seen wearing a gray sweatshirt, sweatpants and glasses, state police said. The agency hasn’t shared any details about when or where he was last seen or who may have seen him last.
Union High School head football coach Travis Lee Turner is seen while coaching.
WCYB
The last known contact Turner’s family had with him was on or around Thursday, November 20, when he set off into the nearby woods with a firearm, the family’s attorney, Adrian Collins, said in a statement. At that time, no arrest warrants had been issued for him, Collins said.
When Turner failed to return home that night, his wife immediately contacted local authorities but was informed that a missing person report couldn’t be filed until 24 hours had passed, according to Collins. The next day, she formally reported him missing to the Virginia State Police. The family has been fully cooperative with law enforcement in their ongoing search for Turner, Collins said.
As the search for Turner continues, nearby in the tiny town of Big Stone Gap, the Union High School football team – the Bears – have remained steadfast, fighting through the storm of scandal and uncertainty.
On November 29, they overcame fierce rivals Ridgeview High School with a nail-biting 21-14 victory, pushing them into the state semifinals. Saturday’s victory marked the second game that they played without their head coach watching and guiding them from the sidelines.
The wins are more than just games: they’re defiant statements. Despite the national media frenzy and the shadow of their coach’s alleged crimes, the Bears stand tall, united by an unspoken bond.
Defensive coordinator Jay Edwards, thrust into the role of interim head coach, has stepped up to guide the players, but their grit is what has kept them pushing forward.
“We talked in the huddle and we said, listen boys, we’re going to have to handle adversity here,” senior running back Keith Chandler told CNN affiliate WCYB after their first victory without Turner last weekend. “We stick together as brothers here and we should come out with the victory.”
As Union High’s football team perseveres through its season, the school is confronting its second allegation in as many years involving a reported employee.
Court records show another reported employee of the high school was accused of, and later pleaded guilty to, sex-related crimes in 2023. Timothy Lee Meador, who CNN affiliate WCYB reported was a teacher and coach at the same high school, pleaded guilty to two felony charges of taking indecent liberties with a child by a person in a custodial or supervisory relationship, Virginia court records show.
CNN has reached out to Meador’s attorney at the time, who is the same attorney currently representing Turner.
A community tackles adversity
In the heart of rural Appalachia, a tight-knit western Virginia community of fewer than 2,000 people shaken by unimaginable accusations has rallied behind its high school football team, whose season of triumph now feels like a bittersweet battle for redemption.
The Union High School Bears, undefeated and hungry for a state championship, have become powerful representations of resilience in the face of heartache and chaos.
After winning the regional final game at home against Ridgeview on Saturday afternoon, the team will advance to the Class 2 state semifinal on December 6, one step before the state final set for December 13.
It’s a poignant victory that hasn’t gone unnoticed by the community, both at Union High and beyond. Among the cheering crowd were students from Eastside High School, who traveled by bus to show their support, and athletes from Lebanon High School, who joined in solidarity with their fellow players, CNN affiliate WCYB reported.
“This is one of the most positive, uplifting moments that I have ever been part of,” Eastside High’s pep club wrote on Facebook. “From the police escort, to the fans on the street, to the massive roar and announcement we received as the bus entered (the) park, and finally the fan reception as we entered the stadium. As the tears came to my eyes I realized. There is no better place than these communities we live in.”
Their presence was a reminder of something bigger: a community rallying together, standing shoulder to shoulder with the young men as they fight to finish their season amid unrelenting pressure.
On Facebook, the community has been vocal and unwavering, insisting that the spotlight should be on the players — not the accusations surrounding their coach.
“The student athletes are not the ones charged, and should be left out of all this,” Mountain 7 Sports Report, which covers the student games, said in a post. Parents of the football players and other members of the community replied in agreement.
An ongoing search and the mystery of his disappearance
Since Turner’s disappearance, authorities have used search and rescue teams, drones and police dogs to try to locate him, state police said this week.
In an email to CNN Tuesday, the Wise County Public Schools superintendent, Mike Goforth, said the district is “aware that law enforcement has filed charges against a staff member who has been on administrative leave.” Turner is not permitted on school property or to have contact with students, Goforth said.
Searching the area, nestled in a subrange of the Appalachian Mountains, isn’t easy.
Its rugged topography, carved by rivers and forests with elevations that vary from low valleys to high peaks, makes for a challenging environment for search and rescue operations.
An aerial view of Appalachia, Virginia.
WCYB
Outside of police dogs and foot traffic, authorities may need to rely on technology, like motion sensors left in an area of interest that send signals to the search team’s base, or drones with heat-sensing abilities that can track movement, said John Miller, CNN’s chief law enforcement and intelligence analyst. That’s not a perfect science, he notes, given all the activity such sensors pick up.
If Turner is in the woods, weather could impact how he fares. Since his disappearance, the area has seen warmer than normal temperatures during the day and overnight – sometimes with light rainfall, but not enough to flood the area, according to CNN meteorologist Mary Gilbert.
When reached by CNN on Tuesday, Turner’s wife shared a statement from the family’s attorney.
“I speak today on behalf of Coach Turner’s family. We remain prayerful for his safe return and for everyone affected by the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. We trust God to bring truth and clarity in His time,” the statement, which also asks for the family’s privacy, reads. “Any allegations should be addressed through the proper legal process – not through speculation or rumor,” the statement from Collins reads.
In the mist-shrouded hollows of Virginia’s Appalachian Mountains, where ancient ridges guard secrets as old as the coal seams beneath them, a chilling new clue has surfaced in one of the region’s most baffling disappearances. Police have uncovered a series of 12 unusual footprints snaking from a wooded path near the home of Travis L. Turner, the 46-year-old high school football coach who vanished 13 days ago amid a swirl of felony charges. The tracks, described by investigators as “strange” and irregular, lead inexorably into the dense underbrush of the Clinch Mountain subrange, culminating abruptly at the edge of a concealed stream—a watery veil that has thwarted both helicopters and drones until this breakthrough revelation.
The discovery, confirmed late Tuesday by the Virginia State Police, injects a haunting layer of mystery into a case already steeped in scandal and sorrow. Turner, the celebrated head coach of Union High School’s undefeated Bears football team, disappeared on November 20 from his modest home in Appalachia, a town of fewer than 2,000 souls clinging to the foothills of Wise County. What began as a routine investigation into child pornography allegations has spiraled into a full-scale manhunt, with Turner’s family pleading for his safe return even as authorities label him a fugitive. Now, these enigmatic prints—too erratic for a deliberate escape, too purposeful to be mere wildlife—have reignited speculation: Did Turner stumble into the unknown, or is something far more sinister at play in these timeless woods?
The footprints were first spotted by a K-9 unit during a grid search of the 50-acre tract of heavily forested land encircling Turner’s residence. According to a preliminary report obtained by this outlet, the tracks commence just 20 yards from the backyard fence line, where Turner was last seen by a neighbor donning a gray sweatshirt, sweatpants, and glasses before stepping into the treeline, a firearm reportedly in hand. The prints measure approximately 14 inches in length, with an anomalous depth variation—some sunk deep into the loamy soil as if bearing heavy weight, others shallow and fleeting, suggesting a limping gait or hurried evasion. Forensic experts note the absence of typical boot treads; instead, the impressions bear irregular edges, possibly from worn athletic shoes or bare feet in distress.
As the trail progresses, the footprints weave through a labyrinth of rhododendron thickets and fallen hemlocks, ascending a moderate slope before descending sharply toward a narrow, overgrown ravine. Here, the forest canopy thickens, blotting out midday sun and muffling the distant hum of search drones. The path ends without warning at the bank of a hidden stream, its waters fed by seeps from the surrounding bluffs and cloaked by overhanging ferns. No signs of crossing—no disturbed rocks, no broken branches—mar the opposite shore. The trail simply… ceases.
“It’s as if the ground swallowed him whole,” said Sgt. Elena Ramirez, spokesperson for the Virginia State Police’s Wytheville Field Office, in a press briefing Wednesday morning. “We’ve scoured that streambed with thermal imaging and ground-penetrating radar. Nothing. These prints are our first tangible lead in over a week, but they raise more questions than answers.”
The Appalachian Mountains, stretching over 2,000 miles from Georgia to Maine, have long been a crucible for the unexplained. This rugged spine of America, carved by eons of erosion and etched with the scars of strip mining, harbors a disproportionate number of vanishings that defy logic. David Paulides’ “Missing 411” series documents hundreds of cases where hikers, hunters, and locals evaporate without a whisper—no screams, no gear abandoned, often no trace at all. In these parts, folklore whispers of “wild men” or spectral guardians lurking in the hollers, while skeptics point to hypothermia, flash floods, or the disorienting “blue fog” that rolls in without warning. Turner’s case, however, carries the weight of modern scrutiny: a man wanted on five counts of possession of child pornography and five counts of using a computer to solicit a minor, fleeing into terrain he knew intimately as a lifelong resident.
To understand the enigma, one must first grasp the man at its center. Travis Turner was no stranger to triumph. At Union High School in Big Stone Gap, he had molded a ragtag squad of coal-country kids into an undefeated powerhouse, clinching a 12-0 regional semifinal victory just days after his vanishing. “Coach T” was a fixture in Appalachia—a towering 6-foot-3, 260-pound figure with a booming laugh and a knack for turning underdogs into champions. He had coached at the school since 2011, when Appalachia High merged with Powell Valley, and his teams had racked up playoff berths year after year. Parents packed the bleachers not just for the games, but for the post-win barbecues where Turner dispensed life lessons alongside ribs and sweet tea.
Yet beneath the gridiron glory simmered darker currents. On November 20, as special agents from the Virginia State Police’s Bureau of Criminal Investigation converged on his home, Turner slipped away. The warrants, sealed until November 24, stemmed from a months-long probe triggered by tips from concerned community members. Investigators allege Turner used online platforms to engage minors, amassing illicit materials in the process. “This is a betrayal of the trust he held in our community,” Wise County Superintendent Mike Goforth stated curtly, confirming Turner’s administrative leave. The school district, reeling from prior scandals—including another Union High staffer facing solicitation charges—has barred Turner from campus and severed all ties.
Turner’s wife, Leslie Caudill Turner, has become the emotional fulcrum of the saga. In a tearful Facebook post deleted shortly after, she implored, “Travis is missing, and that’s all we know. We love him and need him here with us. Thank you to everyone who has reached out with love and support.” Speaking to reporters outside the family home—a weathered clapboard house overlooking the Powell River—Leslie, 44, a part-time dental hygienist, maintained her husband’s innocence. “He’s a good dad and a good husband,” she insisted to the Daily Mail, her voice cracking. “None of that is true. I don’t know anything. I’m sorry.” The couple, married 22 years, share two teenage children who have withdrawn from public view, attending classes remotely as the media circus unfolds.
The search for Turner has been a Herculean endeavor, mobilizing over 200 personnel in the largest operation Wise County has seen since the 2019 floods. Ground teams from the Black Diamond Search and Rescue outfit have combed ravines with GPS-enabled packs, while Virginia National Guard helicopters equipped with FLIR thermal cameras have crisscrossed the canopy at treetop level. Drones, too, have buzzed relentlessly, their LiDAR scanners mapping every crevice. Yet the Appalachians are a searcher’s nightmare: elevations swing from 1,200-foot valleys to 4,000-foot peaks in mere miles, riddled with sinkholes, blackberry brambles, and “laurel hells”—impenetrable thickets named for the mountain laurel that chokes out light and path alike. Recent weather has conspired against them: unseasonably warm days topping 65°F have lured black bears from hibernation, while overnight chills dipping to 40°F could fell an unprepared man in hours.
Enter the footprints—a tantalizing anomaly in this high-tech hunt. Discovered Monday afternoon by a bloodhound named Max, whose handler reported an “unsettled” reaction at the stream’s edge, the prints have prompted a forensic deep dive. Preliminary casts suggest a size 12 shoe, consistent with Turner’s build, but the irregularity hints at impairment: perhaps a twisted ankle on the uneven terrain, or the firearm’s weight unbalancing his stride. “They’re not animal tracks—no claw marks, no splayed toes,” Ramirez clarified. “But they’re not clean human prints either. Whatever made them was in a hurry… or in pain.”
This revelation echoes eerier tales from the Appalachians’ vanishing playbook. Consider Dennis Martin, the 6-year-old who blinked out of existence in Great Smoky Mountains National Park in 1969. Amid a massive search involving 1,400 people, child-sized footprints led to a flooded stream—then vanished, much like Turner’s trail. Or Geraldine “Inchworm” Largay, the 66-year-old thru-hiker who strayed off the Appalachian Trail in Maine’s 100-Mile Wilderness in 2013. She survived 26 days, scribbling desperate pleas in her journal—”In some trouble… lost”—before succumbing less than two miles from safety, her body found only after surveyors rerouted a power line. These cases, chronicled in Paulides’ tomes, share a chilling motif: proximity to water, abrupt terminations, and an almost mocking elusiveness to aerial surveillance.
Local lore amplifies the dread. In Wise County, elders spin yarns of the “Woods Witch,” a spectral figure said to lure the guilty into the streams, or feral clans descended from moonshiners who shun the light. “Folks disappear here because the mountains remember,” murmured 78-year-old miner Harlan Jenkins at a vigil for Turner outside Union High’s stadium. “Ain’t no coincidence them prints stop at the water. That’s where the secrets sink.”
For Turner’s team, the absence is a ghost on the field. Assistant coach Riley Harlan, 32, has helmed the Bears to two playoff wins since November 22, including a gritty 21-14 quarterfinal triumph over Ridgeview High. “Coach taught us to run through walls,” Harlan told reporters post-game, helmet in hand. “We’re running for him now.” The squad, ranked top in Class 2 Division D, faces state semifinals this weekend—a potential championship run shadowed by uncertainty.
As night falls over Appalachia, the stream gurgles on, indifferent to the lanterns flickering along its banks. Divers, equipped with underwater scooters, probe its depths tonight, while psychologists consult on Turner’s state of mind: flight from justice, or a deeper unraveling? Leslie Turner clings to hope, circulating flyers emblazoned with her husband’s photo—a smiling giant amid his players. “Come home, Travis,” she whispers in interviews. “The boys need their coach. We all do.”
The footprints, for now, are mute witnesses to the abyss. In a region where the past clings like kudzu, they remind us that some trails lead not to answers, but to the wild heart of the unknown. The search presses on, but the mountains hold their counsel. Until dawn breaks—or the stream yields its dead—the enigma of Travis Turner endures, a footprint in the sand of American mystery.
