🕵️ Part I: Project Silverback and the $98.7\%$ Truth

The CIA has been tracking Bigfoot for over fourteen years, and I should know—I was part of the team doing it. My name is Derek Shepard, and this is the story I was never supposed to tell.

The year was 1994. I sat in a small coffee shop in Georgetown, Washington, D.C., watching the rain streak down the windows. Across from me sat Richard Morrison, an investigative journalist for The Washington Post.

“Let me make sure I understand you correctly,” Morrison said, his voice tense. “You’re telling me that the Central Intelligence Agency has been running an operation to track and monitor Bigfoot since 1980.”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I said, taking a sip of coffee. “Because it’s not a hoax. Bigfoot is real. Multiple populations exist throughout North America, and the government has known about them since at least the late 1970s.”

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🦍 The Origin of the Cover-Up

The story began in 1979. A credible Forest Service ranger in Washington State reported an incident involving an unknown primate. The reports were consistent and detailed. Local authorities couldn’t explain it, and it eventually reached the NSA, which detected unusual, large, bipedal heat signatures in remote areas during satellite passes.

“The NSA kicked it to us because it was domestic territory, and we were still in the Cold War,” I explained. “The initial theory was that the Soviets might be running reconnaissance. So, the CIA formed a small task force: Project Silverback.”

I smiled grimly. “We didn’t find Soviets. Something much more interesting.”

In June 1980, the task force had its first confirmed visual contact in the Olympic National Forest. I was fresh out of training, assigned as a junior field operative. We tracked the creature for three days.

“It was intelligent, Morrison, not animal intelligence—human-level intelligence,” I emphasized. “It knew we were tracking it. It left false trails, doubled back on its route, even created distractions to throw us off. This wasn’t a dumb animal. This was something that understood tactics.”

I slid copies of classified incident reports across the table. They detailed sightings, tracking data, and population estimates.

“These have classification stamps. Derek, if these are real, they’re Top Secret,” Morrison whispered, scanning the pages.

“They’re real. And I have more. Including genetic analysis.”

🧬 The DNA and the Legal Quagmire

“What did the DNA show?” Morrison asked.

“The samples showed a genetic profile that was close to human, but distinctly different. Close enough to be in the genus Homo, but divergent enough to be a separate species or subspecies. The geneticists theorized it might be a surviving population of Homo erectus or a related archaic human species.”

I leaned forward. “You’re saying the government has proof that Bigfoot exists and has kept it secret for over a decade.”

“Longer than that, probably. But here’s why: Legal complications. If these creatures are intelligent, and they are, what’s their legal status? Are they animals? Property? Do they have rights? If someone shoots one, is it hunting or murder? The government couldn’t answer those questions without revealing the creatures existed in the first place. So they decided the safest option was to keep it classified and monitor the populations quietly.”

🌲 The Final Betrayal

As of my last briefing in late 1993, we’d identified 17 distinct groups in the continental U.S. and southern Canada, totaling 200 to 300 individuals. We monitored them using satellite thermal imaging and ground surveillance.

In November 1986, I had a direct encounter—the one that convinced me entirely. An adult male approached my surveillance camp. I was ready for a threat, but the creature stopped, made itself smaller, and extended a massive hand, palm outward, in a clear gesture of peace. My colleague, Patricia, mirrored the gesture, and the creature left us an offering of berries, showing true intent for communication.

The agency’s decision was to monitor, but not engage. They watched these intelligent beings, documenting their slow decline toward extinction due to habitat loss and human encroachment.

But the line I couldn’t forgive was crossed in December 1993. A family group was spotted near Mount St. Helens. The agency’s response was not observational. They authorized a full extraction of an injured adult male.

I learned the dark details later: the creature was brought to a covert lab, where men from Langley began invasive, painful sampling procedures. They wanted leverage. They wanted biological material.

“It died on the fourth night,” I whispered to Morrison. “And then Group 7 disappeared from satellite imaging entirely.”

The agency had crossed a threshold. They had moved from monitoring to leveraging.

“This is genocide by inaction,” Morrison said, his voice hollow.

“That’s exactly what it is. And that’s why I’m here. At current rates of decline, they could be functionally extinct within 30 to 40 years. The government knows this, and they’re choosing to do nothing.”

🌧️ The Clock Runs Out

I revealed the names of two other former operatives who could corroborate the story and provided him with classified documents.

Just as Morrison packed his trembling tape recorder, preparing for the story of the century, the bell over the cafe door jingled. A man in a dark raincoat walked in, scanning the room with unnatural stillness.

“We’re out of time,” I hissed. “They know.”

We split up, Morrison grabbing the documents and slipping out the front, while I vanished through the service exit. I spent the next three days in hiding, knowing the penalty for leaking classified files was severe.

But I was done being complicit. The creatures, these last surviving relatives of ancient humanity, deserved better than to be silently erased from history. I was ready to risk prison, my reputation, and my life to force the government’s hand.

The story was coming out. And once the truth was public, there was no putting it back in the box.