In a surprise announcement late Friday evening, former President Donald Trump said he has issued a directive to declassify and publicly release all U.S. government files related to Amelia Earhart and her mysterious disappearance. Trump posted the decision on his social media platform, declaring that “her disappearance, almost 90 years ago, has captivated millions” and that the public deserves to see every document the government holds on the case.
Earhart’s fate has long been one of the most enduring mysteries in aviation history. In 1937, she embarked on a world-circling campaign flight aboard a Lockheed Electra 10E, joined by navigator Fred Noonan. On July 2 of that year, Earhart and Noonan took off from Lae, New Guinea on what was to be one of the most dangerous legs—to Howland Island in the central Pacific. The tiny island, intended as a refueling stop, was notoriously difficult to locate. After radio transmissions ceased and search efforts turned futile, both were declared lost at sea.
Over the ensuing decades, enthusiasts and investigators have floated multiple alternative theories to explain how the two may have met their end—or how they might have survived for a time. One of the most persistent ideas is the “Gardner Island hypothesis,” also known as the Nikumaroro theory. Proponents suggest that Earhart and Noonan, failing to find Howland, drifted southward and landed their Electra on a reef near Gardner Island (now Nikumaroro). From there, they would have made faint radio transmissions in hopes of rescue. Yet despite searches in that region, no conclusive wreckage or human remains tied to the flight have ever been verified.
Another controversial school of thought argues that Earhart was captured by Japanese forces. According to that theory, sometime after the plane went off course, she and Noonan landed—or were forced down—near islands under Japanese control. Some versions contend she was taken to Saipan (far from the intended flight path) and held as a prisoner, a claim that has stubbornly lingered in popular lore but lacks solid proof. Others push the idea of espionage—that her plane carried intelligence equipment, making her disappearance part of a covert mission. A 2017 History Channel documentary called Amelia Earhart: The Lost Evidence even presented a photo it claimed showed Earhart alive after her disappearance; however, further examination revealed that the image was published long before 1937, undercutting the documentary’s central claim.
Skeptics caution that much of the intrigue comes from the unknowns rather than decisive evidence. For many researchers, the most plausible explanation remains that Earhart and Noonan ran out of fuel, crashed into the ocean, and sank before rescue ships could reach them. As authors of published works have noted, there is little in the existing record that definitively contradicts that scenario, though the vastness and depth of the Pacific mean wreckage might forever elude detection.
Trump’s declassification order arrives amid pressure from several quarters, including a congressional delegate who cited local oral traditions from the Northern Mariana Islands that claimed Earhart had been seen there. Whether any truly new or illuminating documents remain hidden in government archives is unclear. Many of the records related to Earhart have already been made public through National Archives releases over the years. Some analysts say little of substance remains classified; others see Trump’s move as a political maneuver timed to redraw attention away from other scandals.
Whatever the motive, the declassification directive may prompt renewed searches, fresh geological scanning missions, and forensic reviews. If anything new emerges—a hitherto unseen naval log, a cryptic radio transcript, or internal correspondence hinting at sabotage or interception—it could reshape how Americans understand the final chapter of a woman who, in her lifetime, shattered records and conventions alike.
For now, the public waits. The pages are sealed no longer. The mystery remains, but with Trump’s order, the government is letting us peer at its hidden files—and maybe, just maybe, someone will find the final piece of Earhart’s legacy.
