Rangers Trap 10-Foot Sasquatch, Discover Entire Family Surrounds Camp

A ranger's firsthand account from 1994 has resurfaced online, and it's the kind of story that makes you sit up and pay attention. The video, posted by Bigfoot Sasquatch Stories on YouTube, recounts an experience that sounds more like something out of a thriller than a routine forestry assignment. The story centers on Roy Dunore, a 15-year veteran ranger working in Northern Washington. One gray September morning in 1994, Roy received a call from his supervisor, Warren Iverson, that broke the pattern of his usual workdays. No small talk, no jokes—just a classified assignment offering triple his normal pay rate. The catch? He couldn't tell anyone where he was going, not even his wife. All he could say was that he'd been assigned to an "interdistrict operation." That alone should raise eyebrows for anyone familiar with how government agencies typically operate. Triple pay, total secrecy, and a vague description of the target as a "large unidentified animal" that had been involved in "several dangerous incidents." Roy had handled grizzlies, mountain lions, and poachers throughout his career, but none of those calls ever came with this level of cloak-and-dagger. By 6 a.m. the next morning, Roy found himself in the back of a black pickup with no agency markings, no unit number, and no department name. The driver never gave his name. The man in the passenger seat wore a clean dark suit that looked almost absurd against the mud and gravel of the forest. As the team grew to 15 experienced rangers, the mood in the truck bed grew heavier. These weren't rookies. Whoever assembled this team wanted people who knew the woods. The destination was deep in the Kettle River Range, a remote stretch of northeastern Washington that has long been considered prime Sasquatch territory. The Colville National Forest and surrounding wilderness have produced countless reports over the decades, with witnesses describing large, bipedal figures, strange vocalizations, and rock-throwing incidents remarkably similar to what Roy describes later in his account. When the truck finally stopped, the man in the suit—Halloway—spread out a topographic map with six numbered marks scattered across several miles of dense forest. His hands trembled as he pointed to the locations. The rangers' job was simple: place six massive steel traps at each marked spot and wait. These weren't bear traps. Roy noted they looked like nothing he'd ever seen used for wildlife management. Two days later, one of those traps snapped shut. What happened next is the part of the story that lingers. Roy describes a Sasquatch standing nearly 10 feet tall, tearing up the ground as it fought the chain. But what stayed with him wasn't the size or the strength. It was the way the creature stopped struggling when it saw the rangers approaching. It looked at each man one at a time, as if memorizing every face. That kind of behavior suggests intelligence, awareness, and something that might even be described as recognition of threat. That night, the situation escalated. Large figures appeared just beyond the edge of the campfire light. They surrounded the camp, exchanged signals, and began throwing rocks from multiple directions. Roy's realization hit hard: they hadn't captured some lone wanderer. They had taken a member of a family. This detail aligns with what many researchers have suggested for years—that Sasquatches live in family groups, possibly multi-generational units, and that they actively protect their own. The coordinated rock-throwing from several directions, the signals exchanged before the attack, all point to organized, deliberate behavior rather than random animal aggression. The video goes on to flesh out Roy's background, his financial pressures (a broken-down Ford, a daughter preparing for college), and the strange details of the operation, like the man in the suit whose dress shoes slipped on the damp gravel. It's a slow build, but the pacing serves the story well. By the time the trap closes, the tension has been carefully layered. What makes this account particularly compelling is the consistency with other reports from the Pacific Northwest. The Kettle River Range sits in a region with dense forest cover, limited human access, and a long history of witness reports. The behavior described—the face-memorizing, the family response, the rock-throwing—matches patterns documented by researchers like John Green, Grover Krantz, and more recently, the work being done by groups like the Olympic Project and various field investigators across Washington and British Columbia. For anyone who has spent time looking into Sasquatch reports, the details in Roy's story don't feel fabricated. They feel familiar. That's what gives this video its weight. The full account runs longer than this summary, and it's worth watching for the buildup alone. Bigfoot Sasquatch Stories does a solid job pacing the narration, and the story raises questions that don't have easy answers. What was the agency really doing out there? What happened to the captured Sasquatch? And what did Roy see in those faces that he never forgot? Check out the video when you get a chance. It's a reminder that some of the most compelling Sasquatch encounters don't come from blurry footage or distant photographs. Sometimes they come from the quiet testimony of a man who was paid three times his salary not to talk about what he saw.