FBI Agent Admits They’ve Been Forced to Hunt Bigfoot for Ages – Sasquatch Encounter Story

A Sasquatch Encounter Story

I have spent most of my adult life lying to the public.

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.

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Not the small lies agents tell suspects. Not the classified omissions we justify as “national security.” I mean a larger lie—one that stretches across decades, forests, and generations. A lie so deeply buried that even within the FBI, only a fraction of us ever knew it existed.

Bigfoot is real.

And for more than half a century, the FBI has been hunting him—not to capture him, but to keep him hidden.

I was recruited into the program in 1998, though at the time, I had no idea what I was actually signing up for. On paper, the assignment was called Project SILENT CANOPY, a joint task force involving the FBI, the Department of the Interior, and several unnamed “scientific advisory groups.” The mission description was vague: monitor anomalous activity in protected wilderness zones and prevent public panic.

That should have been my first warning.

The Briefing No One Talks About

Three months after joining the Bureau, I was escorted into a windowless room beneath Quantico. No phones. No notes. No questions allowed. There were six of us—agents with backgrounds in tracking, counterintelligence, biology, and psychological profiling.

A man I had never seen before entered the room. He wasn’t listed in any directory. He didn’t give his name.

Instead, he pressed a button.

The screen flickered to life, showing footage far clearer than anything that ever made it onto the internet. A massive, bipedal figure moved effortlessly through dense forest, stepping over fallen logs like they were twigs. Its arms were long, its posture upright, its movements deliberate.

“This footage was captured in 1971,” the man said calmly. “The original tape was seized. Every copy was destroyed—except this one.”

Someone whispered, “That’s not a bear.”

“No,” the man replied. “It’s not.”

Then he said the words that changed my career forever.

“Sasquatch exists. And your job is to make sure the world never proves it.”

Why Hide the Truth

They didn’t explain everything at once. The truth came in fragments, over years.

Sasquatch—what the public calls Bigfoot—is not a single creature. It is a relict hominid species, older than modern humans, with a population so small that exposure could wipe it out within a decade.

The government’s fear wasn’t the creature itself.

It was us.

Public discovery would mean mass expeditions, armed hunters, private corporations, religious extremists, and social media hysteria descending on protected lands. The forests would become battlefields. The species would be hunted to extinction—or worse, captured and experimented on.

So a decision was made in the late 1950s: contain the truth, protect the species, and erase the evidence.

Every blurry photo. Every shredded campsite. Every “crazy” eyewitness.

We were the reason those stories never went anywhere.

My First Field Assignment

My first deployment took me to the Olympic National Forest in Washington State. Locals had reported “unusual activity”: massive footprints appearing overnight, livestock found mutilated but not eaten, hikers claiming they were being followed.

We arrived under the cover of a wildfire investigation.

The forest felt… wrong.

Experienced trackers know the silence I’m talking about. When birds stop singing. When insects go quiet. When nature itself seems to be holding its breath.

That’s when I saw the footprints.

They were enormous—nearly nineteen inches long, pressed deep into damp soil. The stride length was impossible for any human. But what unsettled me most was the pattern.

These weren’t random tracks.

They were circling us.

The Night Encounter

It happened on the third night.

I was on perimeter watch when the smell hit me first—earthy, musky, almost metallic. Then I heard slow, deliberate footsteps just beyond the treeline.

I raised my rifle, my heart pounding.

And then… he stepped into the moonlight.

He stood over eight feet tall, his body covered in thick, dark hair matted with leaves and rain. His face wasn’t animalistic like people imagine. It was disturbingly human—deep-set eyes, a broad nose, and an expression that looked less like rage and more like caution.

He didn’t charge.

He didn’t roar.

He simply looked at me.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. I realized then that I was the one trespassing. The forest was his territory, not mine.

Then he stepped back into the trees and vanished without a sound.

No creature that large should be able to disappear that quietly.

What the Reports Never Say

My official report stated: No credible evidence of unknown species observed. Environmental factors likely contributed to misidentification.

That sentence made me sick.

Over the years, I had more encounters. Always brief. Always controlled. Sasquatch groups are intelligent, nomadic, and painfully aware of human surveillance. They avoid contact unless cornered.

And when they do interact, it’s rarely violent.

In fact, I learned something that never made it into our files:

They’re afraid of us.

The Cover-Up Machine

Our unit’s real work wasn’t in the field—it was in cleanup.

Confiscating phones. Buying silence. Discrediting witnesses. Flooding the internet with fake Bigfoot videos to bury the real ones under a mountain of hoaxes.

Yes—many of the obviously fake Bigfoot clips online are intentional.

Nothing kills the truth faster than ridicule.

Whenever someone got too close, we stepped in. Not with threats—usually with money, non-disclosure agreements, or gentle reminders about mental health evaluations.

No one wants to be labeled delusional.

The Encounter That Changed Everything

In 2012, something went wrong.

A juvenile Sasquatch was struck by a logging truck in Northern California. It didn’t die immediately. A local family found it hiding near a creek, injured and terrified.

By the time we arrived, word had spread.

This wasn’t about containment anymore.

It was about survival.

When I saw the creature up close, bleeding and whimpering softly, I realized the truth we’d been avoiding: we weren’t protecting a myth—we were guarding a genocide waiting to happen.

The juvenile didn’t look monstrous.

It looked… young.

Too young.

The Decision to Stay Silent

That night, the senior officials made the call. The body would be removed. The witnesses would be silenced. The site would be cleared and reclassified as hazardous.

I signed the paperwork.

I still see that creature in my dreams.

Why I’m Speaking Now

I’m retired now. The forests are shrinking. Satellites see everything. Drones fly where secrecy once lived.

The truth won’t stay hidden forever.

And when it comes out, people will ask why no one warned them.

This is my warning.

If Sasquatch disappears, it won’t be because he was never real.

It will be because we chose comfort over truth—and silence over coexistence.

The legend was never the lie.

The lie was that we were alone.