Scientists Revisit Cannibal Massacre
Feb. 7, 2001 -- There is no question Alferd Packer ate the flesh of his five companions while trekking through the barren, snowy San Juan Mountains. The beady-eyed prospector admitted to as much during his trial more than 100 years ago.
But what remains in question — at least in some researchers' minds — is whether Colorado's most famous man-eater was also a murderer, or merely a man acting in self-defense who then helped himself to the flesh of his already-slain friends.
This week David Bailey, curator of history at the Museum of Western Colorado, hopes to settle the matter once and for all.
After seven years of combing through yellowed newspaper clippings, testimonies and journals for references on the case, Bailey hopes to add X-ray analysis to his collection of evidence, which, he feels, bolsters the notion that Packer killed only one man — not five — and did so only to protect his own skin.
Who Ate Who?
Alferd Packer (he signed his first name Alferd, although some officials used the more conventional spelling, Alfred) was convicted in 1883 of hatcheting to death and eating his five companions while leading them through the San Juan Mountains in search of California gold. The team, which included a strapping 19-year-old as well as a 58-year-old with severe arthritis, was en route to California when they were trapped by a sudden, vicious storm. They soon ran out of flour, fat and meat. For three days the men survived on pine sap and rosebuds, but eventually hunger drove one of the prospectors to seek heartier nourishment.
During his trial Packer was fingered as the one who first grabbed an ax and butchered all five of his companions. It was Packer, after all, who emerged from the forest days later, while his companions never did. The judge who tried the case was so repulsed by Packer that he sentenced him to be hanged until he was "dead, dead, dead." But Packer escaped death and served only prison time.
Packer, until his dying day, claimed it was another man, Shannon Bell, who began the carnage. In his earliest statements, Packer claimed most of the men had died of natural causes, but in his later confession, Packer said he'd left camp to scout for food and when he returned, he found Bell amid the bodies of the other four, roasting a flank of human flesh.
Packer said Bell then turned to attack Packer and Packer shot the crazed cannibal twice in defense. He then grabbed the ax from Bell and finished the job — as well as the meal Bell had begun to roast.
Evidence of Virtue?
Packer eventually found sympathetic ears for his version of the story in a young feminist reporter, Polly Pry, and was finally pardoned by the governor of Colorado in 1901. Accounts of his final years describe a friendly old man who offered hard candies to local children and who, himself, "never touched meat."
In a few days, Bailey's team, including a soil chemist, an archaeologist and a gunpowder expert, plan to X-ray five bagfuls of soil, clothing and human remains taken from the San Juan mountain site to try to corroborate Packer's story. Bailey hopes to find traces of lead or gunpowder residue that match gunpowder and lead bullet samples taken from that time period.
"Packer said he fired point blank at Bell," says Bailey. "So there should be residue. It may not solve the case for good, but it would be good proof that Packer wasn't lying."
Bailey also cites reports from earlier excavations of a bullet hole in the hip of one skeleton, thought to be Bell. Bailey says the reports further support Packer's story. But the leader of a 1989 excavation of the site buys none of it.
‘A Despicable Man’
"Packer just lied and lied and lied," says James Starrs, a professor of law and forensics at George Washington University. "He was a despicable person."
The alleged bullet hole in one the skeleton's hips, says Starrs, actually showed the clear markings of a gnawing, foraging animal, not a bullet. Starrs and his team did find a bullet wound in Bell's skeleton, but it was in his left arm and, Starrs says, it had probably been incurred at least 20 years before Bell's death.
Starrs explains the idea that Bell's hip bone had taken a bullet originated from a premature and incorrect assessment of one of his crew members, that was then published in the Denver Post.
"He was absolutely wrong," says Starrs. "Our later analysis showed it was conclusively not from a bullet wound."
The team also revealed evidence of a mad killer, including deep cuts in the hand and arm bones of the victims — indicating they'd thrown their hands over their heads in fright. Nicks in arm and leg bones suggested where the cannibal had hacked away flesh for roasting.
Starrs has followed up with some of his own investigative work on Packer and found little to support the idea that he was a decent fellow who had simply eaten his companions to survive.
Starr says Civil War records show Packer had been convicted during the war of pilfering the pockets of dead soldiers while working for ambulance crews. Packer also received a stipend from the government for his epilepsy, which, he claimed, was a war injury.
"He said he contracted epilepsy from walking guard during cold nights, which is just ridiculous," says Starrs.
Bad History Repeats Itself
Bailey and his team, however, remain adamant that Packer was a victim of a bad rap and that scientific analysis might revive his tarnished reputation.
"I believe there's such a thing as a bad history gene," says Bailey. "If you tell a story long enough, it eventually becomes the truth."
It was that generated truth, says Bailey, that eventually killed the old cannibal. Packer died in 1907 — six years after being released from prison — of what records describe as "senility, trouble and worry."