The End of the Whole Mess

THE WHOLE MESS
August 2014
This whole mess started innocently enough with spring cleaning in the early summer of 2008. I was ready to start my first semester of college. I suppose I’m still majoring in business. Regardless, while we rummaged through the basement, we came across a box tucked away in the corner. It was very unassuming and scribbled across it in black sharpie were the words: CAMP SUPPLIES. My mom had been reminiscing about some old dolls from her childhood, but when I brought the box to her attention, her smile faded. She didn’t regard it with resentment or apprehension, just sorrow.
I always knew my grandparents—Cheryl and Jonathan Webster—ran a sleep-away camp back in the early 90s until it was shut down right around the time my parents divorced. Anything beyond that was unknown to me. My grandpa died in 1991, a few months after my first birthday and my grandma suffered a heart attack the day before the camp was officially shut down in 1995. The box must have contained her office supplies and sure enough, inside were the unmistakable blue t-shirts that read CAMP ARGO buried beneath reams of documents and pencils. The logo—written in a font I assumed was named “stick serif”—was a diamond emblem that depicted the famous mythological ship from which the name derives. Argus built the ship, and it was used to ferry Jason and the Argonauts to Clochis to retrieve the Golden Fleece. I have a strange fascination for mythology. I always found that stuff very interesting. 
My mom was noticeably upset. Seeing the box must have reminded her of her parents. Or so I thought. I didn't say anything, but I took the box back to my room. That night, I looked inside. Contrary to what you might assume, nothing mysterious lured me to look inside. It wasn't fate or anything; I was just very curious. I figured it would be an interesting stroll down memory lane since I never really knew anything about the camp. In a sense, I had literally opened the Pandora’s box. 
The contents were exactly what I expected: a stapler, pens and pencils, t-shirts, calendars, and schedules, and a few framed photos of my parents and I. They were probably taken before the divorce. My grandpa was in one of them. I never knew him, but he seemed like a cool person. He looked like one of those mid-century adventurers. Then, at the bottom of the box, I saw a roster of names; it listed all the staff and children who attended the camp between June 23 and August 13, 1995. The roster was a reprint—probably made by a copier—and some of the names were circled. I didn’t think much of it. Feeling nostalgic, I decided to do a search on Camp Argo. That’s when I was brought to a small article in the Saginaw News:HYSPERIA-BASED SUMMER CAMP SHUTS DOWN; REPORTS OF FOOD VIOLATIONS
BENTON LAKE, MI – After a brisk 5-year run as one of the premier summer camps in Michigan, Camp Argo has been shut down by the Food Safety and Inspection Service. An anonymous tip of food violations led to an inquiry that concluded mismanagement of frozen beef. 19 staff and children contracted E. coli within a two-month period, many of whom were hospitalized. 
The owner and co-founder, Cheryl Webster, had passed away the night before the camp was condemned on August 13, 1995. The camp manager, Randall Butterfield, could not be reached for a statement. 
Jerry Ferguson, Camp Argo’s marine specialist, commented: 
“Camp Argo will no longer be operational. This is a transitional period for everyone, and we sincerely apologize for this embarrassing and irresponsible disaster. We are working with the C.D.C., and all families will be compensated appropriately. I refuse any other questions at this time. That is my official statement.”
No other staff or family has reached out or responded to our inquiries.Nothing in the article really stood out as being odd, at least at that time. I was a little disappointed that my mom never told me why the camp was closed or that my grandma’s heart attack might have been the result of E. coli, but I guess she had no reason to. The next morning I brought it up to her before she left for work. She was obviously uncomfortable talking about it, and I wanted to press the issue, but I didn’t want to make her sad, so I held back. However, my mom eventually caved in and told me what happened. Maybe she wanted to get something off her shoulders… and in hindsight, I could understand why.
On the night of August 13, she received a call from the Saginaw police station that her mother died of a heart attack. We live in the UP, so it was quite the drive for my mom to verify the body and arrange transport back to Marquette. She apparently passed away in her office and while nothing was official, my mom blamed the E. coli. She didn’t really interact with the investigation or any of the staff, but she was forced to hand over most of the files my grandmother kept on the camp. The copies she made for her own records are what we have now. They wanted to know every detail about how it operated. Honestly, everything seemed pretty normal. She spent a week in Saginaw while investigators did an autopsy. The outbreak wasn’t blamed on my grandmother but rather the camp manager—Randall Butterfield—who allegedly fled the state. We were even compensated for assisting in the investigation. But what gave my mom chills happened after the funeral. She received several follow-up calls from Mort Kovak, an agent with the FBI, and Dr. Bob Sanders, who worked at FEMA. They apparently ordered my mom to cremate the body and then they sent a team to retrieve the remains. When my mom protested, they issued a federal warrant to seize it from us, claiming that my mom may have been using the ashes to transport anthrax. Her attorney argued the warrant, but they threatened to file child abuse charges if she didn't cooperate. They blackmailed her... for my grandmother's ashes. Fearing a never-ending court battle, my mom reluctantly complied and she never heard from them again. She didn’t tell me anything more, and I didn’t ask. We left it as that. 
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew something was very wrong. Things didn’t add up and I didn’t know whether my mom knew it or not. E. coli is pretty harmless and should never warrant the burning of a body. People don't burn bodies unless they are carriers of some highly infectious or deadly contagion. Burning a body is a quarantine procedure. Not to mention; why was the government so adamant about making my mom burn the body only to take the ashes from her? These questions swirled in my mind and I couldn’t shake them. When I wasn’t with friends or family, I obsessed. I didn’t ask my mom anything further, but instead kept my thoughts to myself. At the dinner table, when she asked how school was, I found myself staring blankly at the wall. Even Dale, my younger brother, noticed my behavior. A week later, I thought of something. 
Firstly, why draw suspicion? There is nothing suspicious if the family burns the body, but if the government does so, that means something is very wrong. My mom was forced to cover their tracks. And secondly, the circled names… they were probably everyone who got sick. That night—probably sometime in late June—I looked over the roster. There were ten names circled, all belonging to the staff.
* Brian Stenson – Head Counselor [Apaches] 
* John Richards – Junior Counselor [Apaches] 
* Ralph Dickson – Head Counselor [Wolves]
* Traci O’Connell – Junior Counselor [Koalas] 
* Kelsey Cosgrove – Head Counselor [Hawks]
* Vivian Mueller – Junior Counselor [Huskies]
* Melissa Parker – Junior Counselor [Mustangs] 
* Evan Brewer – Lifeguard 
* Samantha Woodstock – Lifeguard 
* Bruce Kelly – Bus driver
Things got really weird. The news article reported 19 staff and children, but only 10 names were circled. Either 9 more people got sick within a 12-hour period, or something else was happening. I decided to look up the first name: Brian Stenson. Nothing showed up except for a few unrelated people who have the same name. I went down the line until I reached Melissa Parker. (Bear in mind I had to do a deep search in Google to find this and I used several combinations of words) I found who I suspected was her mother. 
I came across a blog called Crypto-Mania. As far as I can tell, it’s some kind of unofficial fringe catalog for mysterious and unexplained animals. The man who runs it was Dr. Fredrick Powers. In his own words: “I am an award-winning science fiction author and former zoologist for the Smithsonian Institute. In 1984, I was fired from my tenure after publishing my book, Where Living Fossils Lie, which sheds light on what the government doesn’t want you to know. The world is an alien zoo, and there are creatures among us.” His biography continued to list several prestigious credentials. He seemed a bit unhinged, but I was led to an article he wrote in 2003 regarding something called the Nandi Bear—a prehistoric animal living in Africa. The article seemed ridiculous but the only comment was from a woman named Joanna Parker. I’ll copy the full exchange.JOANNA PARKER WROTE: “Does the Nandi Bear exist outside of Africa, like the United States?” 
DR. POWERS WROTE: “The Nandi Bear is indigenous to Africa only. It is actually named after the Nandi tribe.” 
JOANNA PARKER WROTE: “Oh, okay. I live in Michigan, and I believe I saw one here. I have a few questions so I sent an email.” The comment thread was in March of 2003. The name was not linked to any email or website, so she must have posted as a guest. I decided to contact Dr. Powers directly to ask for any additional information on his exchange and continued with my research. There is virtually nothing about Camp Argo online. I wasn't entirely shocked as it operated in a time when there was no internet marketing. Though several Michigan newspapers picked up the Saginaw story—none of which expanded on the details— and there are no records or paper trails from any of the people involved. I couldn’t even find information about Butterfield or Ferguson, or the FBI agent or the FEMA doctor. I was about to give up when I stumbled across two critical developments. 
An eBay seller by the name of Tripps8877—who is based out of Grand Rapids—was selling several used canoes and one of them—a large red one—had the Camp Argo emblem on its side. He listed it under the description, which is how I miraculously found him. I was so excited and relieved to find a lead! By happenstance, he listed the name! As far as I could tell, this was the only tangible evidence that Camp Argo ever existed. I created an eBay account just to ask him for details about the canoe and specifically the camp. I was so excited because I figured he might’ve been an employee or knew an employee. But the biggest thing I found came later. 
Seeing the picture of the canoe inspired me to do an image search for Camp Argo and while nothing worthwhile popped up, I found a whole collection of pictures from Benton Lake. One of them caught my attention. It did not look like Benton Lake. It had an electric fence around it and a sign that read: 
WARNING
PROPERTY OF U.S. MILITARY
It is unlawful to enter this property without the written permission of property commander Robert Fuchs. 
In the credits for the picture, the name stuck out to me: Cold Lake. It was well after midnight, a storm was roaring outside, and seeing this really disturbed me for some reason. A whole flood of explanations and theories made me very paranoid, and I had to turn my computer off. I feared that I might’ve wandered into something I wasn’t prepared for. I don’t know anything about conspiracy theories, but I do know that the FBI, the CDC, FEMA, biological quarantines, and government-seized property are all characteristics of a typical cover-up conspiracy. Like something out of the X-Files. However, I still had no idea how deep this went. Something sinister happened at Camp Argo and I was aiming to figure it out. What worried me more was the real inevitability of actually going to Cold Lake. I woke up the next morning to two emails, one from Dr. Powers and the other from Tripps8877. The Tripps email is as follows: 
**** 
Hi!
Thank you for your interest in my item. I would be happy to answer any questions regarding the canoe. I don’t know much about Camp Argo other than it was condemned some time ago for an e-coli scare. The canoe is in near-pristine condition and I purchased it at an auction last month in Grand Rapids. There is minor scuffing along the edges and some of the paint looks worn. There was a large scratch at the bottom that I fixed up, which looks like it was from a bear or something. It was really weird. I’ve tested it myself and it is camping ready. The original owner (I think his name was Mason) apparently owned the property after the camp defaulted and was selling off its assets. I do apologize but I do not have any information on him.
**** 
So, I had a name and presumably a location: Mason of Benton Lake, Michigan. I responded, asking if I could see more pictures, to which Tripps obliged. I viewed through them, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It looked like just a regular canoe, and I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for. Truth be told, a part of me actually considered buying it and picking it up personally in Grand Rapids, but I had nowhere to put it. But the truth was hiding in plain sight and in hindsight, I was too stupid to see it. Then I read the second email, which was from Dr. Powers. That's when I felt a terrible feeling in my stomach. I copied the email here: 
**** 
Taylor, 
Thank you for getting in touch with me. 
I was rather alarmed by your email. Normally I receive lots of fan mail, even some responding to specific comments, but you responded to a person who left a very uncomfortable if not irregular impression on me. 
We exchanged many emails about the Nandi Bear (appearance, behavior, life cycle, distribution and dietary habits). She claimed to have seen the animal in Michigan, but the Nandi Bear is exclusive to Central Africa. What worried me was her description of this so-called “Michigan Nandi Bear.” In her own words, she described it as such: 
“It was large, muscular, and its arms and legs were unnaturally long. From a distance it looked like a man crawling, and other times it looked like a dog, but other times it walked on its hind legs. When it scoured the edge of the woods, it was like it knew I was watching it.”
I gave her as much information on the Nandi Bear as I could, but the description she gave me did not coincide with the established consensus of what the Nandi Bear looks like. Admittedly, I’m still shaken by her description. Therefore, and I told her exactly the same as I will tell you; this might be a new unidentified crypto-animal. She thought it was something else. She seemed adamant on hunting it, and she stopped contacting me altogether. I tried to persist, but she would not answer my attempts. 
Since no one has brought this animal to my attention, and with your sudden email this morning, I must assume you too have seen this animal. Please, if you can, tell me more about it. I need to know. I may have an explanation.
Best,
- Dr.	Fred Powers.
**** 
I immediately responded clarifying that I was only investigating a potential E. coli outbreak and not hunting an animal. On the surface, it seemed his email wasn't relevant, but a part of me wondered if it was. The description of the Nandi Bear unnerved me, and I admit that I was somewhat spooked. I did not have a chance to check my email until later that night, but I found time to do some more research at the library… as clichéd as it sounds. The Saginaw story appeared in many newspapers, but I was looking for something more. I had this strange feeling that the story was a fabrication. I had the circled names with me to see if anybody reached out in the months or even years after the incident, but there was nothing. I obviously couldn’t go to the National Archives Building so I did a general search on FamilySearch and I found candidates that matched the roster. 
* Melissa Susan Parker
* Residence date: 01 Sept. 1975 – 23 July 1995
* Residence place: Frankenmuth, Michigan, United States
* Birth date: 1975
* Address: Frankenmuth, Michigan 48734
* Possible relatives: Joanna E. Parker, George T. Parker
* Event date: 23 July 1995
This was very odd to me. Her residence date changed while she was still working at Camp Argo, almost as though she just quit and left right in the middle of summer. All the circled names were similar. They changed residences on different dates, but seemingly while they were still employed at Camp Argo. I then sifted through several Randall Butterfields until I found a potential candidate. 
* Randall Edger Butterfield 
* Residence date: 11 July 1975
* Residence place: Merrill, Michigan, United States
* Birth date: Feb 1951
* Address: Merrill, Michigan 48637
* Address date: 13 August 1995
Ferguson (the marine specialist) lived in Bay City and his address change is August 13th, 1995. Something was happening. I found a few articles about Randall Butterfield before the outbreak. Articles like: Uncle Randy Soars to Excellence, Merrill County to Honor Camp Manager for Humanitarian Work, Camp Manager to Celebrate Fourth Year of Stellar Achievement. I was shocked because I was expecting some indication of corruption or malevolence. Yet to my surprise, there was nothing. He seemed like an upstanding citizen who genuinely cared about the camp, but my grandma never mentioned him. True to my mom’s story, after 1995, he just disappeared. I couldn’t find anything about him. It was at that moment that I decided to take the next step… to call Joanna Parker and Randall Butterfield. I wasn’t totally prepared for it, but I knew it had to be done. That night, Dr. Powers responded:
****
Taylor,
Thank you for your response. I do not believe we are discussing the same occurrence. Thank you for your time, and best of luck in future endeavors.
- Dr.	Fred Powers
****
I was shocked. Why did he suddenly back off? At face value, it seemed like he realized my investigation was irrelevant to the Nandi Bear, but his previous email was just so obsessive. I didn't believe for a moment that he would just cut me off like that. Obsession doesn't work that way. Something I said or implied scared him away. Maybe he knew something about Camp Argo that he wasn’t willing to tell me. All I could say for certain at that time was that this animal—real or fake—was now an essential component of my investigation. Joanna Parker mentioned it for a reason, and she needed to know whether that reason had anything to do with her daughter. I suppose in hindsight, Dr. Powers had every reason to stop contacting me and if I knew then what I know now, I never would’ve chased this as aggressively as I did. Not for my sake and not for his sake. Regardless, I emailed Dr. Powers back pleading for any more information about Joanna Parker or the Nandi Bear, but I didn’t expect an answer. That’s when I Googled Mason from Benton Lake, Michigan.
His name was Lorne G. Mason, and he was a salvage and real estate broker based out of Grand Rapids. His building was right there on Grand River, but two years ago, according to a news article, his office was raided by the FBI, and he was arrested! The official story claimed his brokerage was a shell company and that he was a middleman who sold government secrets to China. I was shocked, but I almost believed it until I thought of something. Why wasn't this leading news? If somebody was arrested for treason, it would've been highly publicized and on every news station, but it wasn't. I never heard of it. Unless the story itself was fake. I think Mason was framed because of what he found at Camp Argo. I was beginning to feel scared of my own thoughts. I was deeply entrenched in conspiracies and while at the time I wanted to deny all my theories, in hindsight, I didn't go far enough. Then, sometime in late July, I buckled down and looked into Cold Lake. 
Cold Lake is half a mile north of Benton Lake. It was naturally formed and has a history of unusual seismic activity. I will try to do my absolute best to outline the history, but I have to admit, even while writing this… I cannot shake this terrible feeling of uncertainty and paranoia. I can’t describe it; I feel fated. It’s like that lake is this looming gravestone that's constantly standing behind me. Regardless, I have allocated the history here:
1980 – Cold Lake Campgrounds and Fishing. This was a popular campground and fishing center by the looks of it. Not a lot of information about the campground itself.
1987 – A catastrophe occurred. I found several newspaper clippings, but only two stood out to me. Apparently an earthquake opened the lake, which led to several landslides that buried people alive in their campers. The lake then flooded, and it was reported that over 20 people were killed. Less than 24 hours later, a contingent of the National Guard responded, followed shortly by the CDC. They refused to recover the bodies and officially seized the property, including Benton Lake. The article first appeared in the Saginaw News, but an article from the Lansing State Journal expanded the story. They interviewed locals; many questioned the integrity and reason for the government’s involvement, but many also claimed it was an act of god in retaliation for desecrating hallowed ground. 
The words hallowed ground stood out to me. I wondered what they meant. Was there a worse catastrophe before the earthquake? I needed to know what happened even though my conscience begged me to drop it. I simply couldn’t give up. I came too far. That’s when things got really terrifying. That’s when I found out about the Full Moon Massacre.
1975 – Camp Full Moon. I didn't know anything about Camp Full Moon, but its legacy is garbled in layers and layers of campfire mythology and exaggeration. Several wikis have labeled it as an elaborate hoax, and it originated as a ghost story. According to the stories, the camp was the largest and most successful summer camp in the Midwest, servicing 300+ children every year from 1950 to 1975. Between the dates of July 4th and July 11th of 1975—on their 25th anniversary—several employees and campers disappeared during the night. The staff was puzzled. Stranger still, the names of the missing persons were erased from the directory and their belongings vanished… almost as though they never existed. Alvin Maynard, the camp director at the time, tried to cover up the disappearances, hoping he and the staff could solve the problem internally without involving the parents or the police, but it got worse. Eventually, worried family members contacted and visited the camp because their children were no longer calling or writing letters. On the night of July 11th, seven more campers went missing. Management could no longer hide the problem and the parents inevitably took matters into their own hands. The Sheriff's Department closed the camp and 48 hours later, the FBI arrived. Initially, the investigation concluded that the missing persons must have wandered into the woods and either got lost or killed by a wild animal. I had thought of the Nandi Bear. Forensics, however, found evidence of foul play; traces of chloroform were found in some of the beds, and in other cabins, there were signs of a quiet struggle… as if the missing persons were dragged out of their bunks through the windows. It was then declared a criminal investigation. Soon, the Department of Defense and MI6 were involved and their committees concluded that the kidnapper had accomplices. While search and rescue teams covered every square inch of the Huron-Manistee National Forests, a secondary committee was appointed to prosecute the managers of Camp Full Moon for negligence, obstruction and conspiracy. When asked why he covered it up, Alvin Maynard claimed, “We had a perfect record. I could not let it go.” Then, on August 1st, 1975… a search party finally found the bodies of all 39 victims. They just appeared one day floating in Cold Lake and when they were pulled out, examiners were appalled by what they discovered: their hearts and brains were surgically removed from their bodies. The FBI officially declared it a mass homicide that was deliberately perpetrated by a group of killers. While several managers were prosecuted of third-degree manslaughter, none of them were convicted and the case went cold. Alvin Maynard hung himself in his jail cell two days after the bodies were found. 
I was frozen; sitting at my desk and mulling over what I had just read. I kept staring at words like homicide, killers, Department of Defense, and surgical. My heart was racing and I’m sure my body was shaking, but I felt oddly relaxed. Despite this explosive discovery—and I was glad to know I was on the right track—I could not swallow this unnatural feeling that I was being watched. Whether the story was true or not, it irked me. Every keystroke I entered, every page I read… it was all being monitored. It had to be! No mass homicide—no matter how large or irregular—would warrant the interference of a foreign intelligence agency. Why would the DOD and the CDC involve themselves in a murder or a landslide? What did FEMA have to do with a sudden outbreak of a very treatable disease? Hell, why wasn't this mass murder ever reported on?! Nothing added up and the story was becoming more and more muddled.  
The next day I was mulling over the idea of calling Joanna Parker and Randall Butterfield. I cannot tell you how many times I caught myself staring at my phone from my desk. Incidentally, I found a job by this point. Periodically, I would pick the phone up, but I could never dial. I guess there was a part of me that didn’t want to know the answers. Then when I took my lunch break, I gave in to my temptation and decided to look up Joanna Parker and Randall Butterfield in the online Yellow Pages. I could not find Butterfield—it seems as though Merrill no longer has a resident by that name—but I was able to find Parker. There are three of them living in Frankenmuth and so I called each one of them individually. She lived in Frankenmuth for 35 years and that’s how I narrowed down the candidates to one promising phone number. Presumably, I called her house phone, but someone else picked up. They did not say hello and I could not hear any breathing, but I knew someone was on the other line. Then, after what seemed to be a whole minute, a man’s voice answered. 
“Who is this?” he asked. He sounded stern and a little distorted. 
I tried to pass off that I was a telemarketer, and that I wanted to speak to Joanna Parker.
“I’m afraid you have the wrong number. Thank you.” 
Then the line was immediately disconnected. I was discouraged and I didn’t think much of it at the time, but something about that call really unnerved me. I did not like how stern the man sounded and the dial tone left an ominous impression on me. I wanted to call back, but I could not risk it. My instincts told me the man was not a resident at her home and that the call might’ve been redirected somewhere else. If that were the case, I thought, why was someone screening and receiving her calls? 
A week had passed, and I tried to move on, but I couldn't. I decided to do some more snooping on Camp Full Moon. If there was a mass murder of 39 people—many of whom were children—then there had to be overwhelming evidence like newspaper clippings, news footage, or even a retrospective… but there was nothing. It existed merely as a Michigan-based campfire story. A few forums here and there only lent personal experiences with the legend, but none lent an explanation of where the story originated. As far as I could tell, it grew in popularity the year after the massacre. I was about to give up until I came across a top 10 list of obscure campfire stories buried deep in the Google search. The post—or rather comment—was on a horror blog and was made by a user named MissKatonic83. Her full comment is as follows:
Number 8 [In reference to the legend of Hawaiian Nightmarchers] reminds me of a camp story I use to hear back in Lansing. It was about a summer camp that was terrorized by a family of cannibals who would kidnap and eat the brains and hearts of their victims. I mention this because we were told that if you see the silhouettes of people marching through the woods or staring at you from the window, that’s the Bartlett Family scouting for new victims. It really made me feel all nostalgic oddly enough hahaha I guess you could call them the Michigan night marchers!
I finally had my answer… 
I prepared for a weekend trip with my friends. A friend of mine was able to secure his family’s cabin for us to use, so we drove down to Wisconsin where the cell service was very limited. I had a lot of fun and though it was easy for me to relax, Camp Argo weighed heavy on my thoughts. I kept dwelling on the name Bartlett. As I looked into the campfire, all I could think about was Full Moon. I would often stare into the tree line on the edge of the lake and envision Joanna Parker’s monster staring back at me. As macabre as this sounds, while we were swimming, I could see the bodies of all 39 victims floating around me. I was overtaken by obsession, but I was careful not to show it. On the last night, we were invited to a bonfire by the neighbors where we exchanged ghost stories. They were a nice family, but after the kids went inside, I started talking to the dad about his story, which incidentally was about a cannibalistic ghost, and I’ll never forget what he told me. I tried writing it down as soon as I went back inside, but I had to summarize: “the story actually came from something that happened in Minnesota in the 20’s; crazy guy went around eating people’s stomachs out, and everyone thought it was a spirit. But that’s what it was like back then. People couldn’t imagine that other people could be so deranged, and so they rationalized it by saying it was spirits or possession. Nowadays we know what people are capable of, but the fear of the unknown comes from ‘why.’ Why would a man eat or kill another man? That’s what’s scary. And that’s why these stories are so good... because they reveal what we really are. Animals.”
School started soon after and I didn’t have much time to look things up until about two weeks into the semester. That weekend I made a resolve to pursue this thing as far as I possibly can and while I feel as though I should regret that, I simply can’t. The first thing on my list: to research the Bartlett family. Article after article said the same thing, but it was a good lead. I’ll copy the best explanation below: The Bartlett family is a myth about an alleged family of cannibals living in central Michigan near Benton Lake. The exact origins of the myth are unknown, but the first appearance of the story came from a book entitled An Anthology of American Horror Stories by E. Emmett Pembrose published in 1940. Allegedly, the Bartletts were a family of mountain men and trappers who settled near present-day Benton Lake in 1818, but their descendants resorted to cannibalism during the Great Depression. The patriarch of the family was Harold “Spider” William Bartlett, who lived until the age of 110 and is often accredited as Michigan’s first cannibal. Over decades, the story was greatly embellished until its current form and has come to include inbreeding, a severely deformed dog named Razor, upholstery and furniture made of human skin and bone, and paranormal traits indicative of vampirism and lycanism. The story was popular throughout the 50’s and early 60’s but resurfaced in the 70’s possibly due to the film The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which may have inspired many of the myth’s cornerstones. For more information, consult Pembrose’s book, or Crypto-America: A Comprehensive Study of Cyptozoology in the United States by Dr. Fred Powers. I was led right back to Fred Powers, but more importantly, I knew who the Bartletts were. But this marked a turning point for me. There was no E. coli outbreak, but rather what appeared to be an assault carried out by alleged cannibals... as ludicrous as that sounded. Still, I was disturbed by the government’s involvement. What would the FBI or Mi6 have anything to do with a family of cannibals? I spent hours each night allocating and sifting through paragraphs and paragraphs of anecdotal evidence and first-hand accounts. I’ve compiled a few excerpts from key witnesses below:1) “I remember looking outside of the window and seeing these people standing on the edge of the tree line. They were cloaked or hooded but they were just standing there… staring right at me. Sometimes I would close my eyes or try to look away but they were always there.”
2) “…because our camper was right on the edge of the campground so we faced the woods. I slept on the upper floor, so I had a good view of the woods. Well one night I looked over to the window and I saw these guys just hanging out in robes right below me. I didn’t think much of it but then they must’ve known I was watching because they looked right up to me.”
3) “I remember one time I saw them leave the tree line. They were actually roaming around the campground but this was like around 2 or 3 in the morning. It was terrifying. They were holding knives and machetes.”
4) “There was always seismic activity by Cold Lake but it always happened at night. Bill [a user] I think you’re right! I never made the connection till now. I remember this one time back in ’83 we were all sleeping and this massive quake hit. Not nearly as destructive as ’87, but it woke everyone up. But I was already awake. I couldn’t sleep, and distinctly recall seeing those hooded figures just minutes before the quake hit. No one really paid any attention but I did and the when the quake was over they just disappeared.”
5) “Does anyone remember the quakes like I do? It almost sounded like the ground was roaring.”
6) “I always found it odd that the quakes were coming from Cold Lake, but no one from Hesperia or White Cloud felt or heard the quakes. So odd.”
7) “For me it’s weird because I was never scared by them. There was this one time I saw them and they saw me so my brother and I decided to chase after them. We were in our mid teens maybe 15 and 16 but when we ran out with our bats they were gone. We still ran into the woods to find them but we couldn’t. That’s when we heard a roar but it wasn’t a quake… it was an actual roar like a lion or something.”Razor... Joanna Parker's Nandi Bear. Unfortunately, there was hardly anything on Razor. Maybe a few people mentioned seeing an animal, but nothing like a deformed dog. Every anecdote was the same: “I once saw a large wolf (or bear cub) walking around the campgrounds and it scared me.” These stories were too vague for me to follow up on and so I had no choice but to discredit them. What I needed was a first-hand account from the 70s, but to try and find someone online who attended the original camp was next to impossible. Even after gathering as many testimonials as I could, I was no closer to the truth than when I started. If these hooded figures were the Bartletts, why were they just standing around and waiting? Why didn’t they attack? What happened in 1995 that forced them to attack then? Why did our government get involved? Why this elaborate lie about E. coli? Why was Joanna's description of the dog so different from everyone else? I was never a forward or social person, but the obsession was making me restless. To contact Joanna Parker knowing some clandestine government watchdog was monitoring my every move terrified me, but I had no choice. It’s not like I wanted to… I had to. Then I received an email from Fred Powers:
We need to talk. Now. This cannot wait. I’ve taken the first flight to Marquette. 
Meet me at Remiliard's Tavern at 8pm tonight. 
In all honesty, I was not prepared for this email. There was no formal address, and he did not sign the message with his name or his usual signature. He was either determined, terrified, or both. Either way, something didn’t feel right, and I probably should’ve done something, but I didn’t. I had no idea what was about to happen, and I was way over my head. Thankfully, class ended early at 6:30 pm. I used what little time I had at work to call Joanna Parker's house again, but this time I was using the office phone. I recorded the conversation so I will transcribe it here: 
Recipient: Who is this? 
Me: I want to know what you did with Joanna Parker.
Recipient: I’m afraid you—
Me: Look, I already know about the Bartletts and Camp Full Moon. You’ve probably been watching me this whole time, logging all the websites I've visited and all my keystrokes so I’m pretty sure you already know what I know. So let's just cut the bullshit. I know what happened.
Recipient: You have pieces but not the whole. 
Me: I want to know what you did with her.
Recipient: She no longer resides at this address. For your own safety, relieve your investigation and move on. We will not pursue.
Me: I just want answers. My grandmother was killed at Camp Argo. 
Recipient: The tribunal has already compensated your family. 
Me: I will find out what happened out there, do you understand? You can’t stop me, you can’t bully me and you can’t intimidate me. I'll find out the truth eventually.
Recipient: Are you prepared to die for it?
Me: Maybe.
Recipient: Then so be it. 
I’m not naïve; I knew what was being implied. Throughout the whole car ride to the meetup point, I stayed silent contemplating everything I had experienced. The person I spoke to was not a member of the Bartlett family; they were very obviously from the government. Deep down I was frightened, and I almost couldn’t drive, but I wouldn't allow myself to be turned away by threats. This was a crusade. I may never know what happened to Joanna Parker, or anyone from the roster, but I suspect they either moved away or were killed. Regardless, I gave up on her. I never called her phone number again. The only public existence she left was a simple comment on a message board. Otherwise, it’s as if she never existed. 
I arrived at Remiliard's earlier than I expected. It’s so weird to sit in a room full of happy, drunk people knowing you’ve uncovered something horrible they'll never come to know themselves. I felt so out of place. I could not join in the festivities and no matter how hard I tried, every time the door opened, I flinched. Eventually, Dr. Powers arrived. He was an older man with a beard, and he looked like he slept in his clothes. I wasn't hard to find because I was the only one in the bar who looked worried and miserable. Again, I recorded our conversation and submitted the audio file. He's the transcript: 
Me: I called Joanna Parker—
Powers: You what?!
Me: Was I not supposed to?
Powers: No! You confirmed their suspicions. You’re on their list!
Me: I’m already on their list!
Powers: But now you’re priority! 
Me: I don't understand; who are they?
Powers: We’re dealing with a clandestine agency that does not adhere to federal or any sovereign parameters. These people do not have a jurisdiction; they can go anywhere they want. And if you step out of bounds—
Me: Who are they?
Powers: I don’t know! They use to come to the Zoological Society a lot. You have a list of names, right?
Me: Yeah. My mom made a copy. 
Powers: Do not call anyone on the roster. All the phones are bugged. Before Melissa disappeared, she told me she tried calling other parents, but a man—the same man—kept telling her she had the wrong number. Don't you get it? They weren’t going after the silent ones; they were going after the loud ones. 
Me: The loud ones?
Powers: The ones who asked too many questions.
Me: So the roster isn’t a list of E. coli victims... 
Powers: It’s a list of missing campers; most of which were probably killed. Melissa came across a similar list from Full Moon. I personally looked into each name and every one of them was found dead in Cold Lake. You grandma must’ve been keeping tabs on missing children. 
Me: Then what happened at Camp Full Moon?
Powers: You know about the Bartletts? 
Me: Yeah—the cannibal family.
Powers: It’s a cover-up. They designed it to scare people away and I’m fairly certain everyone in Bitely is in on it. Only your grandma wasn't scared away.
Me: But a cover-up from what?
Powers: Melissa and I had a lot of correspondence before she disappeared. Thankfully she sent me all the information she had on Camp Full Moon and Camp Argo. She thought the Bartlett dog was the Nandi Bear and when I inquired about it, she sent me letters she obtained from another parent whose son went to Camp Full Moon. I have the letters with me. (He gave me a folder) A week after your first email, I noticed a black Sedan was following me. Then someone visited me at work demanding the letters. Look, if you don’t take them, I will burn them, but be aware that if you do take them… they will come for you. And god knows what they'll do to you when they catch you. 
Me: What’s in those letters?
Powers: Something unnatural… the smoking gun to my life’s work. 
Me: Please tell me what you know.
Powers: The writer of those letters—who was probably 10 at the time—is dead. I think his name was Elliot Hapsburg. I found his obituary. He was one of the last victims pulled up from the lake in 1975. What he saw—what he photographed at Cold Lake… it’s unnatural.
Me: Unnatural? 
Powers: It moves like an animal and looks like a man but it’s not. Something is out there... something we're not meant to find.
Me: I want to go out there.
Powers: Then you’ll die!
Me: I want to know what happened at Camp Argo.
Powers: It was an act of god. What more do you want? I have no additional information. We can no longer remain in contact after tonight. I have a family. 
Me: Wait, how can I defend myself against these people?
Powers: You can’t. Stay ahead of the curve. Just make sure you go public before they catch you… because they will. Goodbye, Mr. Webster.
That was the first and last time I saw Dr. Powers. He was found dead less than 2 hours later in an apparent gas station robbery. Oddly enough, no cash was stolen and the attendant lived. I didn’t find out about this until several months after that meeting. His office in Philadelphia was raided and the FBI seized all his personal assets under the charge of possessing child pornography. His wife, Maggie Powers, was arrested without bail and his two children were placed in foster care. Last I heard, she was indicted with producing child pornography.
I was silent the whole car ride back to my dorm. The envelope that had all of the information I wanted was sitting on the seat next to me and I would be lying if I didn’t say I kept glancing over to it between lights. I wanted so badly to read it right then and there, but I didn't. I guess for a moment I was afraid of what I'd find out. However, when I got back, I tore open the envelope like ripping off a band-aid. Inside was an etching, handwritten letters from Elliot Hapsburg (circa 1975), and a Polaroid. I’ll be blunt… I was petrified. I was horrified. I almost couldn't breathe. That night, this investigation evolved into something far greater than I ever expected. I’ve attached everything below. Please read the letters first. 
* * * *
July 3, 1975
Dear mom and dad,
I hope you’re doing good because I’m having a rotten time. This is actually Hell! Sorry for the curse word. The food is really bad and stale and the bunks smell like dirty toilets. If I were you I would ask for my money back and come pick me up! But the campers are pretty cool. I met a new friend. He is my bunkmate and his name is Tyler but we all call him Ty. Mr. Woodstock is still the coolest person here but Mr. Stevens is a close second. I still think Mr. Wexler is creepy but he's cool I guess. Last night we saw him walking into the woods but when he came back he was speaking jibberish. I think he's going crazy but that's what this camp does to everyone! Anyway I can’t wait for tomorrow. We’re having a BBQ with hot dogs and cheeseburgers and everything except your spinach casserole! Got to go! Happy 4th of July!
Love, Elliot
* * * *
July 8, 1975
Dear mom and dad,
They gave us oatmeal with razins! Razins! This place is horrible! We heard someone from the Braves ran away because they hated this place so much but you would too if you heard the songs they force us to sing. Casey thinks he was eaten by a bear but I don’t think bears can open windows. And yesterday three girls from the older camp ran away too. Anyway, I got your cookies. Send us more! Ty and Casey really likes them and Mr. Stevens says their the best he’s ever had. Mr. Stevens took us fishing on Cold Lake yesterday. The turtles are the size of Uncle Ben’s truck tires but we don’t stay too long because the ground shakes. Mr. Stevens says its because Michigan has earthquakes sometimes and the last one was 30 years ago. But when it shakes it sounds like dad's garage generator. It's very weird! July 4th was fun! I ate so much I felt like I would explode and all my guts would spray on everyone and ruin their day. Tonight we’re telling scary stories to the Apaches. Mr. Stevens is pretty sure that Casey will win because we all think he’s disturbed. But the Apaches have Nick and he’s also pretty crazy too so I don’t know. 
Love, Elliot  
* * * *
July 13, 1975
Dear mom and dad,
Today they showed us a giant hissing cockroach that Adam tried to put in Mr. Wexler's coffee and we took a hike around the lake. I think I'll be coming home with a billion mosquito bites! The nights are getting weird. I'm not sleeping too good because my bunk faces the window where I can see the woods. It's really creepy and dark and sometimes I see people out there. Me, Casey and Ty snuck out to see how far we could go before we got chicken and we found this old cabin. Ty dared me to go inside but I double dared him back. He only looked in the windows and said he saw some empty rooms but that's it. Casey said it was probably an old house from the civil war but I saw lots of tire tracks. Then the ground was shaking again and I heard that sound that sounded like a lawnmower coming from underneath us. And then we saw this bright light and the wind was flapping the trees around. We ran back to our bunks like a bat out of hell. Sorry for the curse word. Ty said he saw a big wolf with red eyes following us but I think he's trying to scare us. We got in a lot of trouble with Mr. Stevens but he said he never heard about the cabin. Anyway its a weird camp and we got in trouble so I thought you should know. 
Love, Elliot  
* * * *
July 17, 1975
Dear mom and dad,
Camp is getting really weird now. They canceled our activities today and we watched some old movies in the gym. I think the counselors wanted us to do something while they talked in the office. Casey, me and Ty followed Mr. Stevens and we heard everyone arguing. Some girls from the Mustangs disappeared yesterday and they want to talk to the police but Mr. Maynard thinks they're hiding. And the ground keeps shaking! It's really scary and weird because it never shook this much until people started to go missing. Yesterday we found a bunch a dead animals in the lake but they all looked like skeletons. They're moving all our stuff to Benton Lake. I'm writing this at night before lights out. Paul has his radio so we're all listening to the Almond Brothers. I hope you write back soon. I miss getting letters and cookies. 
Love, Elliot 
* * * *
July 21, 1975
Mom and dad,
I can’t talk too much. The police came today. They couldn't find the names of the kids in the books. They think Mr. Woodstock and all the counselors are crazy. Mr. Wexler says Mr. Woodstock is under a lot of stress but Mr. Stevens is still trying to get the police to listen. I don’t know why Mr. Wexler thinks the campers were never here because I saw them. We all saw them! He saw them! Anyway I want to come home. I don’t know why you stopped writing but please write back. 
Love, Elliot 
* * * *
July 26, 1975
Dear mom and dad,
Why did you guys stop writing? Its been forever and I haven’t gotten any letters from you. I tried calling but they said the phone lines are down after the storm. It was so creepy out here with all the lightning and the rain. I wasn’t scared of the lightning because I remember Aunt Lucy said it was just static but I think Ty was scared. Mr. Stevens was also scared because he kept looking out the window and told us to stay in our beds. I think he had a gun with him. He was asking about that cabin but we didn't know anything else. He was asking if we saw cars or people or animals but we didn't. Then we hard this loud roar from the forest and Casey thinks it was from a bear but Mr. Stevens shook his head. I think Mr. Stevens is going to try and find that cabin. He was swearing a lot about Mr. Maynard and the police. And I think all of us want to come home now.
Elliot 
* * * *
July 28, 1975
Some counselors are missing too and I think people are being kidnapped and not running away. I heard Mr. Woodstock say 10 people are missing. The police came to see if we were okay after the storm and he tried telling them about the counselors but when Mr. Wexler walked by he was afraid of him and walked away. The only person who isn’t afraid of him is Mr. Stevens. Casey thinks everyone is being kept in the cabin but when he tried to tell everyone, Mr. Midler locked us in our cabins. Casey thinks there's a conspearicy. I just really want to come home! 
Last night I had a terrible nightmare. A guy in a hood put a cloth over my face and when I woke up I was in the back of a truck on the other side of the lake. I saw a group of people in long black hoods holding torches and they were chanting and hitting drums and I couldn't understand what they were saying. It sounded like jibberish. And then they grabbed me and put me on one of those hospital things and took me into the cabin. I was trying to get away and then I saw Casey and Ty next to me. The guys in hoods pushed us into the closet but it wasn't a closet it was a staircase that led to a hallway. It looked like a long cave or something. I woke up crying! I’ve never cried harder in my life! I want to come home! Please come in get me! Please write back to me! I don't know why you haven't! 
I love you so much! 
* * * * 
August 1, 1975
Why don’t you write me anymore? Did I make you mad? I’m sorry if I did! I want to come home so bad. I can’t call because the phone lines are broken and I miss you so much. Are you getting my letters? Yesterday something really scary happened at Cold Lake. Mr. Woodstock went to Hesperia and he hasn’t come back and now Mr. Wexler is in charge so he opened all the outdoor activities again. He says Mr. Woodstock is talking to the police but I don't think Mr. Stevens believes him. He wants to talk to Mr. Maynard but I don't think he's listening. I don't know what's happening anymore. 
I told Casey and Ty about my nightmare and it's really weird because they all had the same nightmare! They all saw the people in hoods and the hallway and the drums. Only Ty remembered where the hallway was going. He said at the end of it he saw a big round room the size of a baseball field and there was a bright white light coming from it but he woke up. Casey thinks something really happened to us and he wants to go back to the cabin. And then something bad happened at Cold Lake today. One of the girls found a skull buried on the beach. It looked like a human skull mixed with a dog or wolf skull. Mr. Stevens is acting weird too. He then told us that he’s going to try to get all of us out of here because Mr. Woodstock isn’t coming back. I really don't know what's happening and I really just want to come home! Please come and get me! 
Elliot 
* * * *
August 5, 1975
Today I thought I would be coming home. I was so excited! I had a dream where you guys came and picked me up and took me far away from this place. Mr. Woodstock still hasn’t come back and now Mr. Stevens went missing today before breakfast. He was supposed to wake us up but we overslept and when Ty went to his cabin he was gone. We saw him last night. It was midnight and we couldn't sleep because the ground was shaking. And then Mr. Stevens came in and was really scared. He wasn’t talking right because he kept saying stuff like they found something underneath Cold Lake and that it's not a bear its a machine. He told us he has proof that Mr. Wexler was the one kidnapping everyone and that he would try and save all of us from something. He said him and Mr. Adler are going to the police and the military but he wanted to know where the cabin was so we told him. So we watched them get into Mr. Adler's van but Mr. Wexler, Mr. Glazer and Mr. Lord were in the middle of the road. They were all wearing hoods like in my nightmare and they told them to go back. Ty said he saw rifles but I couldn’t see. Then Mr. Glazer told us to go back to bed and that was the last time I saw Mr. Stevens. I think they took him away and did something really bad to him. And a lot of the counselors are like Mr. Wexler. They said there was nobody here named Mr. Stevens. It's like they all forgot or they won't talk about him. I just want to come home I want to come come I want to come home it's getting really scary out here and I just want to come home!
* * * *
August 8, 1975	
I'm so scared I want to come home! Really bad things are happening. I'm so scared I can barely write. More people went missing and I just want to come home! I'm begging you guys I just want to come home! This isn't a joke! 
We saw smoke coming from the woods and we heard drumming and a big orange and red light was flashing by cold lake. Yesterday Ty and I found the book that had all the missing people's names in it. He's using a copy. Mr. Stevens was right! 
I'm so scared right now. And yesterday the earthquakes were getting worse and it sounds like they're getting closer. There's something in the woods. We heard it and we even took a picture of it. And it saw us but we hid. We were hiding underneath the window as it looked inside. It's not a bear or wolf. It walks like a dog but it looks like a man. Its head is long and just stands there. It puts its hands on the window and it had long fingers. It was all gray and slimy. We're going to run away. I want to be brave like Ty but I'm not. Casey will get us food and Ty is going to get us bows and arrows. 
I love you guys so much and I just want to come home. Please say something please come get us before we run away because I don't want to go in the woods!
* * * *
August 11, 1975
I want to come home! I want to come home! Why aren’t you guys picking me up? I want to come home!
We tried to escape but someone cut the truck tires. More people went missing and Mr. Maynard isn't coming to help! I'm sleeping with a knife. All the good counselors are gone and the bad ones locked us in our bunks! Mr. Stevens said he's going to take us on a big nature hike in a few days and Casey thinks he's taking us to that cabin! 
We snuck out of our cabins last night and we went to the office and heard Mr. Glazer and Mr. Forbes talking about feeding something. I think they were talking about the thing in the woods and the other counselors are in on it!
And then in Dr. Barnes's office Mr. Wexler was speaking jibberish again but Dr. Barnes didn't do anything. He was writing down what he said in his book but Ty stole it from his desk when he left. It was so scary to run back and take it but we did. Some of it is missing but it says: “to be recycled. Only through this vessil will your brothers be delivered to eternal paradise.” Casey thinks it’s from the bible. 
Please come get us! Please! I don’t think there’s much time left! 
* * * *
August 13, 1974
I love you so much mom and dad! I love you so so so much! I'm scared. I'm writing under the floor. Something is under Cold Lake. It's not human. I saw it last night. It’s a mutated dog thing. It stands on its back legs and howls at the sky. I think Mr. Wexler is going to feed us to it. Dr. Barnes was carrying dead kids away in cots. Mr. Midler is looking for us. First its the boys, then the girls. I can see Mr. Forbes holding his rifle. We're going to attack. I love you mom and dad. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me but I’m really scared. I just want to come home. I just really really love you. 
* * * *
If you read them, you can understand how I felt. I had no words. I was holding letters written by someone who died many years ago—someone who had dreams, ambitions, and a life. It destroyed me to know that he would never get a chance to fulfill them. I was sickened. To read him beg his parents to help was hard to get through. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I pored over those letters, and relived the nightmare they detailed, I was nowhere closer to the truth than when I started. However, the letters proved what others had mentioned and what I already assumed: it wasn’t a cannibalistic family, but a cult. Why the government would go to extreme lengths to cover that up was still a mystery, but it’s clear that several of the camp employees were a part of it. Then when I took out the Polaroid, I swear to god my blood ran cold. I almost screamed. 
I was consumed by terror; I shut my blinds, turned on my lights, and fell asleep in the corner of my room. I had my back against the wall, and I was gripping my bat for protection. Though my roommates were asleep, it comforted me to know they were just down the hall if I needed them. I was alone with the image burnt into my memory. I guess it still is—I can't shake it. The whole night I just imagined seeing that thing crawling into my room from the window like a spider. I could see its large oval eyes gazing at me from behind the glass—mouth open. I could hear those talons scraping the walls as it did when it presumably attacked that canoe. The more I thought of it, the less I was able to reconcile with the notion that it IS out there. That thing... it's alive, and it's out there right now. I couldn't face that reality. All this time I believed I was chasing something different—I don't know what I thought I was chasing, but it wasn't this.
Firstly, I don’t believe the letters were ever sent to the parents. Maybe in the beginning they were, but not in the days leading up to August 13th. It was hard to stomach knowing that many of them probably died believing their parents had abandoned them. Of course, this is all speculation. The camp was under the leadership of Mr. Woodstock—probably a co-director or something. Unfortunately, Elliott improperly blamed Woodstock for leaving them, but I don't think that's what happened. In all honesty, I think he was killed. I tried looking for the names of the victims, but I couldn’t find anything. However, what the letters corroborated was the active participation of key staff members in the kidnappings and consequently the murders of 39 people. This was the smoking gun—I had direct testimony. The man who I presume spearheaded the whole thing was Wexler, and through these letters, I was able to create a full narrative of the events that happened in the summer of 1975. Some of this is repetitive. 
Before I detail anything, I must give credit to Elliot Hapsburg, the brave boy who, over several weeks, I feel as though I got to know. It took all the strength I had to fight back my tears knowing his fate. But what saved me was my admiration for how brave and articulate he and his friends were in the face of horror. Especially for such a young age. Elliott, Ty, and Casey—three boys lost to history—they would’ve made great men. I would’ve been fortunate to know them. The only reason why the truth can be known is because of them. This is their story: 
When the kidnappings first started, Maynard went into damage control and appointed Woodstock as a de facto supervisor to find and rescue them—plausible deniability if I ever saw it. Woodstock wanted to inform the parents that their kids got lost in the woods, but Maynard had a reputation to protect so he stopped him. Around this time, Wexler halted mail service and cut the phone lines. When the kidnappings spun out of control, the camp was divided. Woodstock built an alliance with other staffers (which included Mr. Stevens) to try and smuggle the children out. Wexler, however, was gathering influence with certain staffers. A power struggle ensued, and Wexler realized that it was only a matter of time before Woodstock would overpower him, so he had him killed. To facilitate the camp, Wexler militarized the staffers, held the children hostage, and then ordered them to engage in some kind of ritual that inevitably killed them. Elliott describes Wexler’s cult with hoods and guns and a strange moment where Wexler was muttering gibberish. I don’t want to sound like I’ve gone crazy because I’m afraid I have, but all evidence, including that photo, points to a cult. Whether it began before or during the summer is unclear, but half the staff was involved. It’s just a coincidence that the Bartlett family was used as an excuse to conceal that truth. As for the creature… it's at the center of everything. If I didn’t know any better, Wexler’s cult either created it or brought it to life, and the only way it could be sustained was by feeding it brains and hearts. On August 13, 1975, Wexler's cult sentenced 30 children to death at the claws of that thing. 
That is the truth of Camp Full Moon, yet things still didn't add up. What caused the earthquakes? What was underneath Cold Lake, and what was that bright light? How did Wexler and the others evade prosecution? Why was there such a huge international response, and what was the purpose of the CDC being there? But most importantly, what is that thing in the Polaroid? There is still an active cover-up and it’s obvious that the creature is still alive. Why else would the whole lake be condemned? Victims were expunged from history; witnesses were threatened and anyone who got too close to the truth—like me—was killed or arrested. 
From midterms till the end of the school year, I stopped all my research. All I could think about was everything I had been through, all the stuff I read, all the pictures I saw, and the people I talked to. I thought about Elliott and his friends, Joanna Parker, my grandmother, and my mom. I even thought of Dale. I think my friends knew something was bothering me because I probably wasn’t acting myself and for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I spent close to a year and a half battling obsession and not being mentally present. I am sorry I drifted away from everyone and I am sorry I was not a good enough friend to be counted on. I am so sorry for that. Throughout the spring of 2009, I slowly started to regain myself. We had all gone up to the lake house and I enjoyed myself. Argo and Full Moon were a distant memory. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was laughing. But as we left, we pulled over to a gas station and I came across an old newspaper from fall 2008.
ZOOLOGIST FRED POWERS KILLED AT 58
GANG-RELATED ROBBERY LEFT FORMER SMITHSONIAN PROFESSOR DEAD
My heart stopped. I felt like I had a stroke or something and my friends walked me back to the car trying to snap me out of my daze. I couldn’t believe it. He was killed. It wasn’t just that he was dead but he died a mere hour after I had met him! That’s what set me off. That’s what plunged me back into the darkness. I don’t remember the car ride back to Marquette and later one of my friends, Austin Beaumont, would tell me I looked like I had lost someone close to me. I suppose I did. I was in a slump for a while—maybe a month or so—until I mustered the courage to tell him everything. Of course, he didn’t believe me and there was no way to prove it without endangering his life. I begged him to believe me and finally he did. 
Austin and I met freshman year. He worked at a software company just a block and a half away from me as a junior developer. In his free time, he would hack message boards to play pranks on the admins. Sometime after I showed him all the evidence, he hacked into Dr. Power’s website to see if he could trace Joanna Parker’s I.P. address to a home address. Predictably, the address could not be located. Almost a second after he closed his laptop, he received a phone call from a familiar voice instructing him to “discard your inquiry.” After the call disconnected, the website went offline. The next morning, his boss called him into the break room where Detective Lee Sterling of the Marquette police department questioned him on some unpaid parking tickets. What started as a routine follow-up quickly turned abnormal when Sterling asked, “What is your business with Dr. Powers?” Followed by, “What is your relation to Taylor Webster?” Then he left on an ominous note, “I gave you a chance; if anything happens to you.” Austin didn’t say anything. He kept quiet and demanded to see a lawyer, but he was eventually released. That night, we found out that no detective in Marquette or Michigan had the name Lee Sterling. At that moment, Austin believed me and I resolved to end this thing.
My father is a conservationist and has access to a wide range of guns. I spent many summers practicing my aim and I was working to get my FOID card, which I got in 2012 after I graduated. I saved up $5,000, and I could withdraw another $5,000 from my credit card. It took me a while, but I found someone willing to help me hunt this thing on government property. His name is Mick Ambrose from Louisville, Kentucky. I agreed to pay him $5,000 up front and the rest when we return… if we return. Naturally, Austin was opposed to this idea but for the sake of everyone involved, spanning almost 37 years, I feel like I have to do something. I have to find this thing and kill it. I don’t want my friends or my family or anyone to be bullied by men in black suits. I’ve arranged all the transportation; Austin and I will meet Ambrose at the Roben-Hood airport in Big Rapids, and from there we will drive to our hotel in White Cloud. I asked Austin if he would return home and keep up appearances but to wait for my call.
I might not see Austin again. I might not see any of my friends or family for that matter, so before I left (I explained I was going on another camping trip), I hugged my mom and dad and told them I loved them very much. I told Dale I was proud of everything he accomplished, and he felt a little weird that I was acting so definite and caring. I even wrote them a letter explaining everything and tucked it in my desk in the event something happens. For a moment, I couldn’t let go of my mom and all I wanted to do was go back to the way things were but eventually I did. I had to. The last thing I said to Austin before he pulled out of the motel driveway was, “I’m glad you backed into my car.” To which he responded, “I’m glad you didn’t press charges.” We smiled, hugged and that was that. 
It is here that this story ends. I am writing this in the motel and sending it to Austin as a record. I left him all the evidence I had. I told him that I might go missing, along with Ambrose... and if I do, don’t say anything… yet. My instructions were clear: wait 5 years and by then Sally Thurman—a friend of ours who is studying journalism—would’ve gotten that job in Grand Rapids. I want them to blow this whole thing wide open. Unfortunately, this means that if you are reading this… it’s been 5 years… and more than likely I’ve been dead.
I did what I could. I really tried. All I wanted was closure. Instead, I opened the Pandora’s box, and let all the darkness out of it, and for that I am sorry. 
Email recovered from deceased's laptop, 2023. Sent to unknown recipient.
Category:Longpasta