Ivan Miller had become increasingly obsessed with end-of-the-world prophecies and frequently fantasized about an apocalypse.

His thoughts appeared more jumbled, too, like he couldn’t figure out how to put words in the right order any more. He often muttered things that didn’t make sense, even when no one else was in the room, said his cousin Nathan Miller.

For the family, it was like watching a data chart where everyone could see the declining line that plotted Miller’s grip on reality; it got lower by the day, sometimes even by the hour.

“The last few years is when he started acting differently,” Nathan Miller said. “He had weird ideas, some delusional thoughts.”

He said Miller also stopped showering regularly, going days without taking care of his hygiene. He was already a “loner,” the cousin added, but that made it worse; people who didn’t know Miller didn’t want to be around him. And those he did know were pushed away by his attitude.

The family, the cousin told The Salt Lake Tribune this week, strongly believed that Miller was suffering from a mental health disorder. But he refused to get any kind of treatment in Iowa where he lived, the cousin said, even as a brother begged him to.

“His brother was bending over backward to do everything he could to help him,” the cousin said. “His brother was talking to him about it every day, really trying.”

And then Miller stopped responding and instead went silent for weeks.

His family didn’t hear from him again, the cousin said, until after he had left home for a seemingly unplanned road trip across the West that ended with his March 5 arrest. Investigators accused him of killing three women in Wayne County, and prosecutors there have charged him with three counts of murder.

Nathan Miller said Miller’s parents have been shattered since learning of the allegations. They knew Miller was unwell, he said, but they did not think he would hurt anyone.

“His mom and dad are pretty devastated right now,” the cousin said. “And they are grieving for the families involved. … I don’t know that it’ll ever be understood.”

Police reports and court documents say Miller, 22, had been driving through Utah when he hit an elk near the small town of Loa. His truck was totaled, investigators say, and after selling it to the company that towed it away, he was effectively stranded.

He later told investigators he was out of money, the charges said. He went to the nearby town of Lyman, where prosecutors allege he fatally shot 86-year-old Margaret Oldroyd in her home as she watched TV and took her Buick Regal.

Then, because “he did not like the car,” charges state, he drove about 15 miles to the Cocks Comb Trailhead near Capitol Reef National Park, where prosecutors say he shot Linda Dewey, 65, and her niece Natalie Graves, 34, after they got out of their Subaru Outback.

He took off in their car with their credit cards, charges state, shortly before Graves’ and Dewey’s husbands found their wives’ bodies left in the red sand and alerted police.

That touched off a frenzied search that led officers to Colorado, where they tracked the Subaru and intercepted Miller on his way back to Iowa. He has since been charged with three counts of aggravated murder, first-degree felonies that could carry the death penalty.

He is currently being held in jail in Colorado, as his attorney fights extradition back to Utah.

How did Miller end up in Utah?

As Miller’s family has started to process the news, the cousin said, they have struggled to comprehend how he could have transformed from “just a normal kid” to someone so unstable he could allegedly be capable of one of the deadliest killing sprees in recent southern Utah history.

Nathan Miller said he grew up with Miller and the two used to get along well and have fun as kids. “Growing up, we were closer,” he said. “He was always curious about everything.”

Miller’s parents, he noted, are Amish and currently live in a community of the faith; the couple did not answer calls for this story. When reached by The Tribune, a brother of Miller’s asked for time to cope with allegations. “It’s hard to grasp,” he said.

The cousin said Miller had left the Amish religion a few years ago because “he just wanted to experience the outside world.” But Miller remained reserved, respectful and connected. He led a largely low-profile life, even as his cousin said he started to change.

The Tribune found two Facebook profiles for Miller. The only public information on one read that he was “Not Amish.” The other includes a few public pictures, including one with an individual in traditional Amish work clothing — a blue button-up and suspenders.

Another photo provided by his cousin shows Miller after he left the faith, standing in a workshop where Amish individuals appear in the background. In other pictures, he wears a jacket with the logo of the construction company he worked for; in some, he’s dressed in a cowboy hat and boots.

Miller grew up in Blakesburg, Iowa, the cousin confirmed, a small farming community of about 300 people. He said the family has been particularly concerned with how and why Miller might have ended up in Lyman, Utah — which is a strikingly similar farming community of about 200 people.

Was he drawn by what seemed familiar? Was he reminded of home?

Up until the March 4 killings, Nathan Miller said, Miller had been posting on social media and instant messaging app Snapchat. There, he shared photos of his trip.

The cousin said he thought Miller was taking a vacation. The last picture he’d seen Miller post was of a majestic redrock canyon in Utah a few days before the three women were killed.

“I don’t know any of what his motives were for going out there,” the cousin said.

He’d been gone about two weeks before Nathan Miller heard the news.

Few people seemed to know him

Miller was facing criminal charges in two different states.

He had been charged in Iowa in early January with burglary, theft, possession of marijuana and a misdemeanor for being a “person ineligible to carry dangerous weapons.” Court records say he was staying in a cabin in Lake Wapello State Park that he hadn’t paid to rent when rangers found him in December 2025.

Court records from a town just across the border in Missouri show he also had a pending case there. He had been charged in February with three misdemeanors.

He went onto government property in Downing, Missouri, in October 2025, started a tractor and moved it so he could use it to disable a camera, a probable cause statement alleges. He had been set to appear in court on March 18 to answer to those counts.

The prosecutor listed on that case did not return calls from The Tribune. Court documents in the case included the same Blakesburg, Iowa, address used by Utah prosecutors.

A second case in Missouri from 2023 lists an address in Albia, Iowa, a city listed as his residence on one of his Facebook pages. He was charged then with speeding and fined when he failed to show in court.

The Tribune tried calling several town officials and locals in both Iowa towns, as well as Downing, Missouri, and few seemed to know Miller.

One convenience store employee in Blakesburg said she recognized Miller and he had stopped there once or twice to get gas.

The mayor of Blakesburg and the town librarian both said they had never heard of Miller, though. Several neighbors to the property also said they didn’t know who he is.

The cousin said Miller often used his address in Blakesburg on documents but mostly “camped out wherever he wanted.”

“Over half of the time, he was not there,” the cousin said. “He liked to be by himself a lot.”

Town officials in Downing, Missouri, also said they didn’t know Miller. The city clerk said Amish folks tend to move in and out of that area frequently, though, from a nearby faith community in Seymour, Missouri.

The clerk there, though, said Miller was not listed as a resident in the town’s directory. But Miller is the most common Amish surname.

The Amish and mental health

Erik Wesner, who runs the news website Amish America that covers the community, said it isn’t uncommon for members of the faith in smaller settlements to move around a lot — for better farming or economic opportunities.

There are also Amish settlements near Blakesburg in the Iowa towns of Bloomfield and Drakesville. Those communities, Wesner said, are made up of traditional Amish members who live a lifestyle with limited technology, using horses and buggies to travel. But they’re also somewhat less conservative than other groups.

While there are stereotypes of the Amish — largely based on portrayals in movies and TV — he said many have phones, like Miller’s parents, and communicate with those outside the community.

They are also generally open to mental health treatment, which Wesner said many might not expect. “It’s something that has, in some communities, become more de-stigmatized,” he said.

Wesner noted that treatment might be offered in tandem with a more faith-based approach, such as praying. And the Amish might seek a doctor from within their community. They typically are not opposed to medication, he said.

“In a lot of cases, they are going to think about doing it in ways that are aligned with or respectful of Amish beliefs and culture,” he said.

Wesner also noted there are differences among different Amish groups, with more than 600 settlements in the United States.

The Amish, like most Christians, also do believe in there will be an end to the world and a final judgment. But most communities also stress focusing on the present and not predicting end times.

The cousin said that’s not how Miller was, though. He was fixated on the theories.

He said all that he’s sure of is that what Miller is accused of is “a senseless act.”

“My heart goes out to the families affected,” he said. “I wish I could take their place.”

He said he’s open to the women’s families reaching out to him, if they want to know more or talk to someone from Miller’s family. He’s sorry for what Miller allegedly did and wants to help in any way he can, especially because, he said, the family was unable to help Miller when they tried.

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