Reykjavík, Iceland is statistically one of the safest cities on Earth, a place where a deeply ingrained sense of community and trust allows for a freedom that is rare in the modern world. It was a city where a young woman like 20-year-old Birna Brjánsdóttir could walk home alone from a nightclub at 5:00 AM without a second thought.

But on the freezing winter night of January 14, 2017, that profound sense of security was shattered. Birna vanished into the darkness, her disappearance sparking the largest search in the nation’s history and introducing a dark, violent reality to a country that had long considered itself a safe haven.

Birna Brjánsdóttir was a beloved daughter and friend, described by those who knew her as a “happy pill.” She worked at a local mall, loved music, and had dreams of returning to the United States. On the Friday night she disappeared, she was doing what countless young people in Reykjavík do: enjoying a night out with friends.

When her friends decided to leave a club around 2:00 AM, Birna, feeling safe and happy, chose to stay and dance. It was the last time they would see her alive.

CCTV footage later tracked her final, solitary journey. She was seen walking through the empty, snow-dusted streets, slightly unsteady on her feet but otherwise safe. At 5:25 AM, at an intersection, the camera captured a crucial image: a small, red Kia Rio. After that car passes, Birna is never seen on camera again.

When she failed to show up for work the next day and her phone was turned off, her family reported her missing. The news of her disappearance electrified the nation. An unprecedented search party of over 800 volunteers was formed to assist police, combing through miles of coastline and volcanic fields.

The investigation quickly became a high-tech manhunt. Police tracked Birna’s final cellphone ping to a tower in the port town of Hafnarfjörður at 5:50 AM, confirming she had been in a vehicle. Their focus turned to the red Kia Rio.

Investigators soon linked the rental car to a crew member of the Polar Nanoq, a Greenlandic fishing trawler that had been docked in Hafnarfjörður. By the time they made the connection, the ship had already set sail. In a dramatic move rarely seen outside of a movie, the Icelandic Coast Guard deployed a helicopter carrying their elite Viking Squad to intercept the trawler in the middle of the frigid Atlantic.

They boarded the vessel, arrested two Greenlandic fishermen—Thomas Møller Olsen, 25, and Nikolaj Olsen, 21—and ordered the captain to return to Iceland.

The evidence quickly became overwhelming. A search of the impounded car revealed large amounts of Birna’s blood in the back seat. On the ship, her driver’s license was found in a trash can. Eight days after she vanished, a police helicopter spotted her naked body washed ashore on a desolate black sand beach.

The autopsy delivered a final, heartbreaking truth: she had been brutally beaten and strangled but was still alive when she was thrown into the icy ocean, where she ultimately drowned.

At the trial, the suspect, Thomas Møller Olsen, spun a web of contradictory lies, even attempting to blame his crewmate who had been passed out drunk. But the forensic evidence was irrefutable. He was found guilty of murder and sentenced to 19 years in prison.

The murder of Birna Brjánsdóttir was a profound trauma for Iceland. It was a loss of innocence for a nation that believed such brutal, random violence happened elsewhere. Her death sparked a national reckoning, leading to increased CCTV surveillance in the capital and the launch of a women-only ride-sharing service.

It was a tragic and brutal reminder that no place is a perfect paradise, and a testament to a nation that responded to an act of darkness with an overwhelming show of unity and a collective resolve to protect its own.