PART 3: He Fed Bigfoot for 40 Years, Then He Learned Why It Fears Us – Sasquatch Story

📰 Fallout and Fire: The World Reacts to Thomas’s Truth

The initial publication of my memoir, The Price of Trust: A Ranger’s Decades-Long Secret, was not the explosive global announcement I expected. Instead, it was a ripple that hit the shores of the internet first—a sensation in the fringe science and cryptozoology communities. The mainstream media, controlled by the same systemic skepticism and bureaucratic fear that Agent Reynolds represented, largely ignored it, dismissing me as a “senile ex-park ranger selling fiction.”

The Unraveling of the Official Lie

The first concrete reaction came not from Washington D.C., but from the shadows of academia. A retired primatologist from Berkeley, Dr. Aris Thorne, who had spent his career discreetly researching unexplained primate behaviors, took my claims seriously. He focused on one specific piece of evidence I released: a high-resolution photo of one of Old Jack’s stone tools—a crudely flaked chopper found in his cave.

Dr. Thorne published a paper arguing that the tool exhibited a distinct, non-human hominid flaking pattern, unlike any known archaic human or Neanderthal artifact. The sheer implication—a parallel, enduring line of hominid evolution—was too potent to ignore. The debate shifted from “Did Bigfoot exist?” to “What does the existence of a co-habiting sentient hominid do to human exceptionalism?”

The Voices of the Victims

My story also galvanized the local communities surrounding the Gifford Pinchot. Ranchers and loggers who had always whispered about large, unseen things in the woods suddenly had a framework for their fear and confusion. They started sending me their own files: old photos, audio recordings of unidentifiable vocalizations, and, most damningly, archived police reports detailing mysteriously “lost” persons who were known to be avid, often reckless, amateur bigfoot hunters.

The truth began to leak into the public consciousness: it was not just a story of a hidden animal, but a narrative of state-sanctioned denial and potentially criminal cover-up. The “Resource Protection Agency” that Reynolds represented became the target of intense, decentralized scrutiny, fueled by the internet and a profound public distrust of authority.

The ultimate betrayal Old Jack had shown me—the one that forced his kind into terrified hiding—was humanity’s inability to recognize and respect non-human sentience. The response to my book proved his point. Those who believed me wanted to study and exploit them; those who didn’t wanted to silence and erase me.

🔥 The Price of Exposure

The publication had a devastating, unintended consequence. By confirming their existence and revealing their sanctuary, I had painted a target on the remaining Sasquatch population.

In the autumn following the book’s release, an infamous, well-funded trophy hunter, Rex “The Apex” Colton, announced a full-scale, weaponized expedition deep into the Cascade Mountains. He didn’t seek proof; he sought a trophy, explicitly citing my description of the remaining family’s possible direction of travel.

I knew I had to act. I may have retired from the Forest Service, but I hadn’t retired from my promise to Old Jack. The apples on the stump were a useless gesture now. The only thing left to protect the legacy of trust was direct, dangerous intervention.

My goal was simple, yet perilous: to get to Colton’s location first, use the communication signals Old Jack and I had developed, and warn any remaining family members to move deeper, farther, faster. I was 70 years old, moving into the unforgiving wilderness on a rescue mission fueled by decades of guilt and loyalty. I was no longer protecting a secret; I was fighting a war for the final, absolute truth of coexistence.