CANANDAIGUA, N.Y. —Sam Nordquist left home in Minnesota last fall and traveled 1,000 miles to be with a woman he’d fallen in love with online.
He ended up imprisoned in a cut-rate hotel in upstate New York, suffering unspeakable horrors before he was killed.
A gang of seven people — including the woman for whom he’d trekked across the country— have been charged with murder, accused of torturing and humiliating the 24-year-old transgender Black man in the hotel room for weeks before eventually killing him. The only people who called police were Nordquist’s mother and sister back home, who pleaded for authorities to check in on him when he stopped responding to their messages. But Nordquist’s body had already been dumped, wrapped in plastic bags, in an empty field.
Even though arrests have been made, first-degree murder charges have been filed and the victim laid to rest, this case remains an incomprehensible display of human malice. Online posts told a story of a happy couple, but Nordquist’s friends and family were increasingly concerned when he didn’t return their messages.
His mother feared he was being controlled — and has accused authorities of ignoring warning signs and failing to protect her child. And LGBTQ activists have said the case is a dark reminder of the risks marginalized people face in America, particularly today.
The seven suspects are all being held without bail. NBC News tried to reach their family and friends, but those who returned calls or answered doors declined to comment. The Ontario County Conflict Defender’s Office, which is representing the defendants, declined to comment. None of the seven has yet entered a plea.
“We’ll never know the answer why, because what human being could do what happened to Sam?” Ontario County Assistant District Attorney Kelly Wolford said this week. “We’ll never make sense of this case.”
‘She love-bombed him’
Sam Nordquist fell for a woman named Precious Arzuaga last August. They met online and ended up talking for hours on the phone, day and night, seven days a week, said his mother, Linda Nordquist. Sam seemed smitten, exhilarated for romance with a woman who flooded him with affection.
“Sam was vulnerable. He looked like he was 15, young,” Linda Nordquist told NBC News. “She love-bombed him.”
Arzuaga lived outside Canandaigua, in New York’s Finger Lakes region. She was 38, with several children, some young, others adults — it’s not clear how many she had. If Sam knew that, he didn’t seem to mind. He began planning a trip to see her in mid-September and expected to stay a week.
“He wanted to find love and he wanted to be loved. No one can blame him for that. Anyone would want that,” a friend, Jaxon Seeger, recalled. “He was excited for the trip and the adventure.”
Seeger, who lives in Madison, Wisconsin, had befriended Sam after meeting him in an internet support group for transgender people years earlier. Seeger watched videos Sam posted on TikTok with Arzuaga and thought it all looked normal. Still, Seeger knew it was risky for a transgender man in a new place among unfamiliar people.
At first, things appeared to be going well. Sam sent his mom photographs of the couple together, both smiling, she said. But on Oct. 12, the day he was expected to return home, hedid not show up. Linda said he did not answer texts and phone calls from the family.
Sam had told Linda that he was staying in Room 22 at Patty’s Lodge, a roadside hotel on the outskirts of Canandaigua, surrounded by farmland. The collection of single-story pale, brown buildings with mismatched curtains stands in contrast to the vibrantly colored Victorian homes that line the city’s Main Street and the mansions, yacht clubs and lavish hotels that border nearby Canandaigua Lake, the city’s glistening namesake.
Patty’s Lodge is not a tourist haunt. It is a destination of last resort. Some rooms are rented for weeks at a time by people on the verge of homelessness or facing other emergencies; in some instances their stays are paid for using vouchers provided by the Ontario County Department of Social Services. Others are registered sex offenders, according to records published by the Ontario County Sheriff’s Office.
It is unclear how Sam and Arzuaga ended up at Patty’s Lodge and if anyone else was staying with them.
On Oct. 13, Linda said she contacted the New York State Police and requested a wellness check at Room 22. Not long after, she said, Sam and Arzuaga called and assured her that everything was fine. Sam told Linda that he wanted to stay indefinitely to pursue his new relationship and to help Arzuaga support her kids, she said.
The state police reached Sam at Patty’s Lodge that same day.
“At that time, Sam told the trooper he was fine and did not need any medical or law enforcement help,” State Police spokesperson Trooper Lynnea Crane said in an email.
But based on the conversations Linda had with police after the wellness check, she believes law enforcement was misled and didn’t do a thorough enough job looking for signs of distress. She says law enforcement downplayed their ongoing concerns.
“They said that they talked to Sam and everything appeared to be fine, that everything was good. Well, that’s because that Precious was right there,” Linda said. “I think Sam was scared and intimidated, and that they should have separated them and they didn’t.”
Although the family was suspicious of their relationship, Sam and Arzuaga appeared online like a happy couple. Of the more than two dozen videos Sam posted on TikTok between September and November, most of the clips show the pair dancing together and embracing each other affectionately. Sam described Arzuaga as his “ride or die,” “soul” and “family” throughout several of the posts.
Desiree Tucker, 32, used to make TikToks with Arzuaga, too, when the two dated on and off from 2022 to 2024, she said. But when the cameras were off, things weren’t so great between them. If she declined to do the videos, she risked a beating from Arzuaga, Tucker said in an interview.
“Everyone’s like: ‘Oh, you look so happy in your TikToks,’” Tucker said. “Yeah, I know I did. And I did exactly what she wanted me to do. Because I knew if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be good for me.”
On Feb. 18, Tucker’s local police department in Toronto, Ohio, showed up at her house asking about Arzuaga on behalf of New York State Police, she said. She said she told them Arzuaga physically abused her throughout their relationship. She also said Arzuaga refused her access to her phone and social media, and wouldn’t allow her to contact her family at times. Arzuaga is in jail and could not be reached for comment; Toronto police didn’t respond to a request for comment.
Sam’s family had tried to stay in touch with him, but his responses to their calls and texts grew infrequent. When he did answer, they said, it was usually because they threatened to request more welfare checks to Room 22. He downplayed their concerns, which made Linda worry more.
“He didn’t sound like himself. It’s like he was being coached on what to say,” she said. “Sam lived with me his whole, entire life. We were always together. So I know how Sam talks —and this was not Sam.”
On Dec. 4, she said, she got an email from the Ontario County Department of Social Services, which includes the town where Sam was living.
“I’m working with your son Sam. He wanted me to reach you,” the worker wrote, according to a screenshot of the exchange shared by Linda. “If you can please contact me as soon as you get this email.”
The social services agent later told her in a phone call that Arzuaga was controlling Sam’s cellphone use, that he wanted to come home to Minnesota and that he was concocting an “escape plan,” Linda said. The agent added that Sam was supposed to return to the social services office on Dec. 19, but he never showed up, Linda said. The county social services department didn’t respond to requests for comment.
Sam’s friend Seeger was also sending messages every few days and receiving sporadic responses.
A day or two before New Year’s, Seeger said, Sam texted. He said everything was going well, that he was staying at Patty’s Lodge and that he planned to celebrate the holiday in New York.
On New Year’s Day, Linda spoke with Sam, wishing him a fresh start to 2025.
“He kept the conversation short and said, ‘I love you and I’ll call you tomorrow,’” she said.
It was the last time she ever spoke to him.
