Washington D.C. – Washington Post, Aug. 12, 2026
I had just begun my role as The Washington Post’s Tehran correspondent in the summer of 2012 when our contributor Austin Tice was abducted in Syria. That horrible event, and the void it created, has stayed with the paper ever since. Each year at this time, which coincides with both Austin’s birthday and his abduction, we spotlight his case anew.
It is one part of our ongoing effort to bring him home and to push those in power in the United States and the Middle East who may know of Austin’s whereabouts. This year I asked Austin’s sister Naomi to contribute a piece to our newsletter as part of that campaign.
By Naomi Tice
I am now three years older than my brother Austin Tice was when he disappeared in Syria. He had turned 31 just before he was detained while trying to leave the country. He is now the longest-held American journalist. As he turns 45 this month, my thoughts constantly go to what his life would be if these past 14 years had not been stolen from him and our family.
To me, Austin is the best oldest brother one could hope for. He’s the giver of unsolicited dating advice, the shoulder to lean on, the spontaneous visit to my college campus just because I was homesick. He’s loud, opinionated and my role model — my role model who went missing when I was 20 years old, with life’s biggest decisions ahead of me.
For the past 14 years, I’ve made life’s biggest decisions with a clear question in mind: What would Austin do? From joining the Peace Corps to choosing my career in public health, I kept imagining the advice he would have given.
As we celebrate his 45th birthday, I’m reminded yet again that Austin’s perspective is frozen in time, linked to a person who no longer exists. When Austin disappeared, he was the adult in my life. Today, I’m older than he was when he vanished. Not only have I realized, after being 31 myself, that a 31-year-old might not have all the answers, but I am constantly struck by how he might have grown and changed. I’ve spent years imagining advice from someone whose life was interrupted before he became who he would have been.
It’s hard not to wonder what his life would have looked like if he had come back from Syria at the end of summer 2012. Austin is a passionate advocate for society’s most vulnerable, and if he had graduated from Georgetown’s law school, how would he have used that degree and his skill for storytelling? I believe he would have found a way to continue sharing stories and using them to advocate for change.
I also think about all the family moments Austin has missed over the years. The birthdays and weddings, and most especially the births of four nieces and nephews. Austin has always loved children and was ecstatic when his first niece was born. He spent every visit home playing with her. Austin is a tall guy, and he loved nothing more than throwing her up in the air, her huge smile a constant encouragement to continue. Those are experiences his other nephews and nieces will never have. Will Austin also be robbed of the chance to have his own children?
