The Port of Los Angeles, 23 October 2011. On deck 9 of the Disney Wonder, the Goofy Pool was crowded for the Adventures Away party. The cruise director shouted, “Goodbye, stress! Hello, vacation!”
The ship’s horn played When You Wish Upon a Star to announce departure for Mexico. Guests took it as a charming touch. The ship had recently won the 2010 Condé Nast Traveller award for crew and service.
From deck 10, the scene below was filled with people dancing — guests, families, and crew members alike. That week the ship carried 2,455 passengers and around 1,000 employees.
Among them, the Youth Activities team stood out in their bright yellow shirts and navy trousers. They were responsible for caring for children in the Oceaneers’ Club on deck 5.
No mention was made that evening, but many on board knew a disturbing incident had occurred on this same route earlier in the year, toward Puerto Vallarta and Cabo San Lucas. At 5.45 a.m. on Tuesday, 22 March, security cameras inside the crew area had captured a young woman on the phone. That woman was Rebecca Coriam.
She was 24 years old, from Chester, and had recently completed a degree in sports science at Exeter University. She had been working on board in Youth Activities for nine months. Colleagues said she was enthusiastic about her role, yet the CCTV recording showed her appearing upset during the call.
Her father, Mike, later described what the footage showed when speaking at the family’s home in Chester. He said a young man had approached to ask if Rebecca was all right. She had replied that she was fine before ending the call. Then she turned away, her hands in her back pockets — a habit of hers.
After a moment, she pushed her hair back with both hands, a movement her father demonstrated. He said it looked normal, not out of character. Then she walked away.
That was the final confirmed sighting of Rebecca. After that, she disappeared.
When she failed to report for her duties at 9 a.m., announcements were made through the ship’s tannoy system.
A full search was carried out on board, and the Mexican coastguard was contacted to check the surrounding waters. Nothing was found. Seven months had passed since then.
Mike later explained that whenever they contacted officials, the answer was always the same. “All they tell us is that the investigation is ongoing,” he said.
“We send emails, we tell them how difficult it’s becoming for us, how much harder it gets… but the only reply we ever hear is that it’s ongoing.”
Mike and his wife Ann had launched a website called Help Us To Find Rebecca (rebecca-coriam.com). They had also organized fundraising events. On one visit, their home was filled with raffle prizes — chocolates, toys, and board games donated by friends and supporters.
Mike admitted that some days they managed to function, while on others they felt completely disoriented and unable to cope.
Only one police officer had been formally assigned to investigate Rebecca’s disappearance. He had traveled from Nassau in the Bahamas, more than 1,500 miles away.
He was solely responsible for conducting forensic work and interviewing more than 3,000 passengers and crew. His involvement was due to the ship being registered in the Bahamas for tax purposes.
It did not matter legally that the ship was based in Los Angeles, that the company’s head office was in the United Kingdom, that Rebecca was a British citizen, or that she had vanished between the United States and Mexico.
The jurisdiction remained Bahamian. For European passengers, the same rule applied on all cruise ships. Only a law passed the year before meant that if a US citizen went missing, the FBI would be able to intervene.
Mike and Ann met the Bahamian officer only once. On 25 March, they had flown to Los Angeles to meet the ship as it returned from its journey. Disney officials showed them the CCTV footage of Rebecca and introduced them to the policeman.
Mike recalled asking the officer if he would remain on the ship to continue investigations. The reply was no — he was returning to the Bahamas. Mike found this difficult to accept.
“He had only been on board from Friday,” he explained. “Saturday was his only full day there. That was it. No passengers were questioned.”
Ann confirmed the same. “Not many of the crew either,” she said.
The journalist covering the story promised the parents that questions would be asked during a cruise. Mike and Ann said they would be grateful for any help in finding answers.
In the atrium on deck 3, guests queued eagerly to get Mickey Mouse’s autograph. One passenger asked a staff member how many Mickey symbols existed across the ship. The crewman seemed caught off guard.
Around twenty could be spotted in that area alone, incorporated into the glasswork and carpet designs. “I don’t know,” he admitted, then added that he could show some of the hidden Mickeys — a tradition where Disney designers embedded the iconic ears into architecture for fans to find.
Later, a waiter was asked what it was like working on board. He replied that everything was about presentation. “Even if you’re just a cleaner or a deck hand, when you’re around guests you’re always on display,” he said.
He explained he had been on board seven months and had forty-four days left before going home. “Seven months is enough. Being away from family is hard,” he admitted.
When Rebecca’s disappearance was brought up, the waiter’s expression changed. “I don’t know anything about it,” he said after a pause. Then he added, “It didn’t happen. That’s the answer I have to give.”
That evening on deck 4, the sky was clear and the lights of another cruise ship could be seen on the horizon. Later in Puerto Vallarta, the same ship was spotted again. It was the Carnival Spirit.
Since 2000, forty-three people had gone missing from Carnival cruises, giving the company the worst record of all. Across the industry, there had been 171 disappearances since 2000. Rebecca’s case was Disney’s first.
Shortly before, Rebecca’s father had sent an email with an update. “The number of missing this year has gone up to seventeen,” he wrote. “A man disappeared in the Gulf of Mexico. The Carnival Conquest.” By the end of the cruise, that number had risen to nineteen.
Families of the missing were often contacted by Kendall Carver, an Arizona man whose daughter Merrian vanished from the Celebrity Mercury in August 2004. He explained that many families initially believed they were alone in their experience.
“But the Coriams found out they weren’t the only ones,” he said. “Almost every two weeks, someone goes overboard.”
Carver argued that disappearances had become epidemic in scale, but the industry had the means to suppress attention. He had lost his daughter despite the cabin steward reporting her missing as early as day two of the trip.
The crew, he said, were told to drop the matter. “He reported her missing daily, and they told him to forget it,” Carver explained.
The steward continued placing chocolates on her pillow throughout the voyage. When the ship docked in Vancouver, Carver later testified before a US Senate subcommittee, no one informed the police or the FBI.
Instead, Merrian’s belongings were quietly stored away and eventually donated to charity. “Had we not traced her to that ship, she would simply have vanished without record,” he said.
At the time, Celebrity Cruise Line issued a statement describing suicide as something no company could prevent. “There is very little a cruise line, a resort, or a hotel can do to stop it,” the statement read.
Later the company added, “There is probably nothing we or any organization could say that would make the parents feel we had acted sensitively enough.” Merrian’s case remained unresolved.
Following this, Carver established the group International Cruise Victims. He argued that many crew members were recruited from poorer countries, contracted for nine months at a time, and often endured difficult conditions.
He pointed to FBI figures showing that nine sexual assaults had been reported on a single ship, the Carnival Valor, within one year. “On a ship, there is no police,” he said. “Once you sail into international waters, who do you think wants to work there?”
When asked if he believed his daughter had been murdered, Carver replied yes. Among the crew, he said, that was the accepted story. He also pointed to excessive alcohol service on cruises.
He cited the case of Lynsey O’Brien, a fifteen-year-old who disappeared from the Costa Magica in January 2006 after reportedly being served eight drinks in an hour.
The line later concluded there had been no accidental fall, that the girl had presented false ID, and that “underage drinking” was to blame.
Carver believed this showed the limits of cruise line accountability. “In other industries, the police get involved,” he said.
“On ships, security officers answer to the companies. When lawsuits arise, they will not act against their employers. Cover-up is the standard procedure.” He added, “And in Rebecca’s case, where is the CCTV footage?”
At the time of her disappearance, Disney said there was no record of Rebecca going overboard. The company also refused to disclose the number of cameras or their locations, citing security reasons.
Carver disagreed, arguing, “If there was video of her going overboard, that would end the matter. There is no way a person could leave a ship unseen by cameras.”
At 7 a.m. on Tuesday, the ship passed the stretch of sea where Rebecca had gone missing. Dolphins leapt through the waves, performing flips that drew gasps from passengers.
A young crew member from Ireland was asked what life was like in the cabins below deck. She described them as being like Harry Potter’s cupboard — magical in some sense, but also tiny, windowless, and sealed away in steel.
Crew members worked contracts of four to eight months, depending on rank, with no days off. They labored seven days a week, living in small cabins far below sea level.
Former staffer Kim Button later wrote on her blog that the cabins were difficult to imagine unless seen. She described staff meetings taking place at two in the morning, long after workdays had ended, meaning sleep was often cut short.
The crew pool, she explained, was one of the rare places staff could relax without fear of acting incorrectly in front of guests.
For paying passengers, life on board was meticulously staged. Broadway-style productions, bingo, origami classes, acupuncture, films under the stars, and excursions to Mexican beaches filled the days. Yet occasional cracks in the façade appeared.
During one performance, a children’s entertainer tested a move involving a stuffed pelican. When it accidentally struck his assistant in the face, he snapped, “You’re supposed to catch the pelican!” She looked embarrassed and muttered, “My boss.”
On shore, a Mexican crew member asked passengers to form a line while waiting for a bus. Each guest responded with a sarcastic remark. “Oh, a straight line,” one said. “Can it not be crooked?” asked another. The worker grew visibly uncomfortable.
Some observers believed Rebecca might have fallen from the jogging track on deck 4. She was dedicated to fitness and often exercised there.
Yet security cameras were installed along that track, two on either side, appearing to cover the entire length. The cameras were shaped like tubular equipment, blending with the ship’s design.
One worker in yellow overalls, busy varnishing a railing, was asked about the missing woman. He responded that she had gone from deck 5.
There was skepticism — deck 5 had no outdoor space. The man explained that if one stood on deck 10 at the front of the ship and looked down, the crew pool could be seen on deck 5, and that was the location. He said everyone knew because a slipper had been found.
Looking down from deck 10, the crew pool was visible. It was larger than some passenger pools, but blocked off by a high steel wall. No one could easily fall overboard from that location, as the wall rose far above head height.
Returning to the worker, the journalist relayed this observation. “God bless her,” the man said.
Life for staff on board was demanding. The cabins were small, the hours long, and crew were expected to maintain cheerfulness at all times. Yet the workers insisted Disney treated them well.
They said the company allowed them to go ashore, gave them breaks, and provided a library, gym, games room, and even the pool.
“Everything guests have above, we have below,” one worker explained. “I don’t have a flatscreen TV at home, but I have one here. The only thing missing is family.”
Others claimed that the constant smiles were genuine. “You couldn’t fake that every day,” one said. “Disney wouldn’t hire you if you weren’t that type of person.”
When asked about Rebecca, several nodded and described her as a kind, energetic presence. One said she was never emotional, only friendly and upbeat.
So why did she disappear? None could provide an answer. One shrugged and said there was nothing sinister at work. “This is Disney,” he said.
Still, repeated conversations produced the same detail — everyone insisted she had jumped or fallen near the crew pool on deck 5. Some even said Disney had recordings of her last phone call and that everything on board was taped. “Disney has the tape,” one said.
A close friend of Rebecca’s was later asked about it. He confirmed she had been in a dispute with her partner and believed that was the reason she had been upset. “It’s always about relationships,” he said quietly. He remembered her as a lively girl with hidden sadness.
Another crew member suggested an alternative. After the phone call, Rebecca may have gone to clear her head and been caught by strong winds. He described the morning as stormy and recalled another incident when staff had been ordered to bring someone inside for safety. “She could have fallen,” he said.
Back in March, Mike and Ann Coriam had flown to Los Angeles after Disney contacted them to say their daughter was missing. They arrived in time to see passengers disembark, but were not permitted to speak with them. Ann remembered being kept in a car with blacked-out windows.
When asked if they believed this was deliberate, Ann said probably, while Mike hesitated. Both agreed Disney staff were polite and sympathetic, but they were still kept from information.
After passengers left, the couple were taken aboard. In a room filled with Disney executives, they met the girl Rebecca had spoken to on the phone at 5.45 a.m. They were not encouraged to ask questions. Exhausted from travel and lack of sleep, they barely pressed the matter.
Mike later admitted that he thought there would be more chances to gather information. He did not realize at the time that those moments would never return.
On 1 November, Rebecca’s case was raised in the House of Commons. Her MP, Stephen Mosley, criticized Disney for being more concerned with returning the ship to service than finding a missing crew member.
He described the investigation as appalling, pointing to the Bahamas as a jurisdiction internationally seen as toothless. He said such “flag of convenience” registrations should not be allowed to handle these cases.
When contacted, Disney’s spokesperson said the disappearance was heartbreaking for all involved and declined to give further detail. They said the Bahamian police had not shared a timeline. When asked if Rebecca’s phone call had been taped, they declined to answer.
Officer Paul Rolle of the Bahamas did not return calls for comment.
Back in Chester, Mike and Ann listened to what had been discovered during the cruise. They heard about the waiter who denied anything had happened, the presence of cameras on deck 4, and the high steel walls of deck 5. Mike resisted suggestions that his daughter had been depressed. “There wasn’t,” he insisted firmly.
Later, another crew member came forward. Known as Melissa, she explained she had been asked by Mike and Ann to share her memories. She recalled spending time with Rebecca the night before she disappeared.
Around 11 p.m., they had finished work and Rebecca had been joking, trying to pull off her friend’s false eyelashes. She rested her head on her knee, laughing and chatting.
Melissa described Rebecca as full of energy, mischievous, and loved by passengers and colleagues alike. At times, her relentless cheerfulness could be overwhelming, but it was always genuine.
She confirmed that Rebecca had been in a turbulent relationship, which at times was joyful and at others stormy. She believed the argument was the reason Rebecca had been upset during her phone call.
Melissa recalled that after Rebecca disappeared, Disney held a small ceremony near the crew pool, laying flowers by the wall. No explanation was given, but many staff wondered if this was the spot where she had fallen.
The slippers presented to Rebecca’s parents were also questioned. Melissa said they were not Rebecca’s style and were too large. She asked why Disney had never asked close friends or Rebecca’s partner to confirm their ownership. Instead, they had been placed in her cabin for her parents to find.
Melissa concluded that most crew believed information was being withheld. “Disney swore they told us everything they knew, which was nothing. But most of us thought that couldn’t be true. Someone knew something.”
She had her own theory. Rebecca, she said, liked to take risks and play tricks. She often joked with friends, once tackling Melissa to the ground as a prank while greeting a family on board.
Melissa believed that Rebecca had gone to the crew pool early that morning to be alone. She imagined Rebecca climbing the wall to sit for a moment, seeking a feeling of escape from the ship, without realizing the danger. She believed Rebecca slipped and fell accidentally.
She also pointed out that security in that area was extremely tight. The crew offices, gym, and HR department were located nearby. She questioned how there could be no camera footage in such a critical area.
“To protect the brand,” Melissa speculated. If security staff had been watching, they must have seen something. If not, then there was negligence. Either way, she believed answers were being kept hidden.
Melissa grew quiet before adding that Rebecca had brought joy to countless passengers. “They all loved her,” she said. “Disney should give something back. They owe her the truth about what happened.”
