In March 2025, Sudiksha Konanki vanished from Riu Republica, a resort in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic. She was a 20-year-old college student on spring break. She had arrived just days earlier, full of life and hope, like thousands of others who visit the Caribbean coast each year to unwind, dance, and make memories. But her trip ended in silence. No camera footage. No confirmed witnesses. No body. Just her things left on the beach. Her name barely made it into the news cycle.

And now, two months later, she is still missing – and the more you read the experiences of other travelers to Punta Cana, the harder it is to believe this was simply an accident.

Let’s talk about what’s happening in the same region where Sudiksha disappeared.

Three other drownings have been confirmed at the exact beach this year alone. In one case, only one of the three bodies was recovered. Tourists on Reddit describe the beach as rough, with waves strong enough to knock people off their feet during the day—yet resort staff often don’t warn guests about conditions. Flags are posted, but not explained. At night, the ocean becomes pitch black, with no lifeguards and no lighting. Still, guests are not restricted from walking along it.

And then there are the stories that have nothing to do with the sea – but everything to do with safety.

Just days ago, a tourist posted a chilling account from the Royalton Chic Punta Cana. They claimed the resort held them hostage during checkout, accusing them of using a shuttle they never took and refusing to let them leave until they paid $150. After three hours of pleading, they were finally released. This wasn’t a one-off misunderstanding. It was a clear abuse of power that left guests terrified. The story exploded online – not because it was rare, but because it echoed what too many travelers whisper and too few officials address.

Here’s the reality we’re up against: tourists are speaking up about being threatened, overcharged, abandoned in emergencies, and ignored when they try to report wrongdoing. And yet, when a woman disappears? We’re told not to worry. We’re told it was just the ocean. We’re told there’s no foul play – before a proper investigation is even complete.

Sudiksha’s case was categorized as a likely drowning within days. But how does that explain the absence of a body? The conflicting timeline of events? The fact that she left all her belongings behind, but the friend she was last seen with left the country without delay?

No coroner’s report. No formal conclusion. Just a disappearance. And silence.

Where is the accountability? Where is the urgency? Where is the FBI?

Some say the Dominican Republic is doing its best. But others ask – why is this happening again and again at the same stretch of beach? Why are there no preventative measures in place after repeated deaths? And why did it take public outrage for this case to gain even limited media traction?

Let’s be honest. If Sudiksha were someone else – someone with a more “marketable” story or a different passport photo – this would be a front-page mystery. Instead, we are watching a pattern of erasure unfold. A young woman disappears, and the world shrugs.

We can’t let that happen.

Sudiksha Konanki deserves more than a whisper of coverage. She deserves to be searched for like she mattered. She deserves justice. Her family deserves answers. And the public deserves transparency from every institution responsible for ensuring tourist safety and conducting this investigation.

This is no longer just about Sudiksha. It’s about every woman who travels thinking she will return. Every parent who sends their child on a spring break trip trusting they’ll be safe. Every resort that fails to issue a warning. Every case that gets filed away too soon.

So no – we will not stop talking.

We will not let her name be forgotten because it’s inconvenient to tourism boards or resort chains.

We are watching. We are listening. We are documenting every story that sounds even remotely familiar.

And we are still asking:

Where is Sudiksha?