So Supernatural - CONSPIRACY: The Chupacabra

Episode Date: July 28, 2021

After a wave of animal murders terrorized Puerto Rican farms in 1995, locals banded together to hunt a beast they called the Chupacabra. Some called it a genetic experiment. Others swore it was an alien. But whatever it was, the Chupacabra would soon take its reign of terror across the entire world. 

They say seeing is believing. But when it comes to the supernatural, we're pretty picky about what we choose to see. Most of us are skeptical. We want to see evidence from trusted sources. We want pictures and not the doctored kind. We want to explore every logical option before admitting that something strange might actually be going on. But some people out there are different.

They hear a horrific legend from across the sea and say, yep, sounds possible. Maybe they're gullible, or maybe they're more open to the wonders and terrors of our strange world, and we could all learn a lesson from them. When it comes to a monster like the chupacabra, maybe you have to believe before you can see. This is Supernatural. I'm your host, Ashley Flowers. This week, I'm talking about the chupacabra, an animal-slaying, blood-sucking cryptid that's confounded civilians and scientists since the 1990s.

It's been called a vampire, a mutant, a military experiment, and an alien. And before you dismiss it, you should think twice. According to some, the people in charge don't want you to believe it exists. I have all that and more coming up. Stay with us. It's 1995 and Puerto Rico has its problems. Typical ones, similar to many other places around the world at the time. Crime, unemployment, and a population hit hard by the AIDS epidemic. But there's also something eerie happening that's entirely unique to the island.

An unseen terror is slaughtering animals. In March 1995, eight sheep are found mysteriously dead on a farm. They each have three strange puncture wounds in their chest that sort of look like they came from teeth. Nobody got a glimpse of what did it, but whatever it was seemed like it had drained all the blood out of the sheep. I mean, the scene is virtually spotless. Now, Puerto Rico isn't home to many large predators. If a farm animal ever winds up dead, the culprit is usually a feral cat or wild dog. And clearly, this isn't their handiwork. But what's so chilling about this whole thing is, it feels a bit like deja vu. Because this isn't the first time something like this happened. 20 years earlier, in 1975, farm animals began turning up dead in a town called Mocha. All of them had tiny,

round puncture wounds, and all of them appeared to be drained of blood. After locals reported hearing loud screeches and wings flapping around the time of the murders, they began calling the elusive monster the Vampire of Mocha. After two months, the mysterious deaths stopped as suddenly as they had begun. But now, 20 years later, it looked like the monster either returned or a strikingly similar one is on the prowl. And whatever it is, it's hungry. Over the next few months, the monster goes on a killing spree. Goats, cows, even cats turn up dead with puncture wounds on their neck or chest,

drained of blood. In the town of Canovanas alone, over 150 animals are slain. Obviously, there's cause for concern. But for some reason, officials are downplaying the whole thing. Health experts and zoologists throw out all sorts of possible explanations. For example, a bunch of monkeys that apparently escaped from an old research facility. Rhesus monkeys, to be specific. And now, okay, I don't know about you, but that doesn't make any sense to me.

I looked it up and rhesus monkeys mostly eat fruit, insects, and tree bark. They're certainly not drinking the blood of cows. And the farmers losing all their livestock? They're not buying this theory either. And they're right not to. At all of the scenes, there are no footprints found and no evidence like fur from any known animals. So without some actual investigation or even an autopsy on one of the dead animals, it's all just guesswork. For many, it doesn't make sense why officials won't even consider that there's a new unknown creature out there killing. New animals

are discovered all the time, so people start wondering, are they grasping at straws because they don't care? Or are they hiding something? Maybe, maybe not. But regardless, this killer's not easily swept under the rug. Soon, it becomes the talk of the island. And whether or not it's the same monster as back in 1975, it gets a new name, El Chupacabra, which literally translates to the goat sucker. It's a name that's equal parts scary and gross, which turn out to be two great descriptions for the monster after its first

ever reported sighting. It's August 1995, and this 31-year-old housewife, Madeline Tolentino, is having a pretty ordinary day. She lives with her husband and her mother in Cannavanas, the same town that's recently been devastated by animal killings. At around 4 p.m., Madeline looks out the window and notices a man parking his car outside. She's worried he's going to block her home's entrance, but he doesn't stay long. Seconds later, the guy's eyes go wide and he starts backing his car away to leave. Madeline's not sure why until she sees what he's staring at. It's four feet tall, with a big round head, slitted nostrils, and webbed toes. It stands on two skinny legs, has these sharp reddish quills running down its spine, and it's covered in dark fur, except for splotches of

pinkish-purple flesh where it looks like it's been burned. Now, this sounds terrifying to me, but Madeline's more curious than scared. She calls her mother over to see. They even joke about it. But when Madeline looks closer at the monster's huge, pulsing, gray-black eyes, she notices. It's looking at her. Then, with these almost robotic movements, the creature draws its hands back like it's about to attack. You know how they say that when you come across a big predator, it's sometimes better to make yourself appear bigger and make a lot of noise to scare it away? Well, that's what Madeline does.

She screams. Then she and her mother run outside straight at this thing. Madeline's mom chases it down the street and starts calling out to neighbors for help. And it works. The monster runs away, or I should say hops away. Madeline says it moves like a kangaroo. But before it disappears, a local boy hears their calls for help. He chases the monster into the forest where apparently he tackles it and grabs it by the mouth. The monster opens wide, revealing razor-sharp fangs, but it doesn't bite. It doesn't even try to. Once it breaks free of the boy's grip, it dashes off into the woods so fast its

feet don't look like they're even touching the ground. In an instant, the chupacabra is gone. Afterward, Madeline tells her mom to keep quiet about what they saw. She's worried people will think that they've lost their minds. But someone eventually spills the beans and the story of Madeline's encounter appears on the local news. And over the next few months after that, there's a serious spike in Chupacabra sightings. A college student says he saw the creature disemboweling a goat on his family farm. He tells a reporter, quote, it, when compared to Madeline's account, there's obviously discrepancies. But maybe one got a better look than the other, or maybe there's more than one chupacabra out there. But the more sightings pour in, the more unbelievable things get, literally.

One couple claims the chupacabra kidnapped their five-year-old daughter and returned her with a higher IQ. And some of the claims aren't only factless, they're offensive. Like, allegedly, aliens sent the Chupacabra to Puerto Rico to spread HIV. See, the problem is, the only newspaper reporting on the Chupacabra is the El Vocero, which is basically Puerto Rico's National Enquirer. While it's great that someone's listening, we all know tabloids tend to embellish. As a result, the chupacabra turns into this joke on the island, especially in the more educated middle-class areas like San Juan.

People write comedy sketches and songs about the chupacabra. Bars pour cocktails named after it. And listen, I get it. A lot of the stories are wild. Many of them are probably made up. Sure, maybe some of the witnesses are embellishing a little, but that doesn't detract from the fact that something is happening. In rural towns, the situation is getting dire. People are losing their pets, their livestock, and their livelihoods to this unknown predator. Farmers are so worried they're hiring guards to watch over their farms at night. The chupacabra has only ever killed animals, but no one knows if that could change. Parents start escorting their children to and from school.

Some farmers are pushed to the point where they sell their flocks and abandon their homes entirely. And yet, nobody seems to be taking it seriously. Officials are basically telling people to bide their time, saying stuff like most creatures can't survive off a blood diet. But whatever this thing is, it's obviously real. The hurt is real. The death toll is real. The fear is real. People want help, but it doesn't come until the fall of 1995, when the mayor of Cannavanis makes a bold announcement. He's going to hunt down the chupacabra.

Coming up, the local mayor takes on the local monster. Now back to the story. When you're a small-town mayor and your citizens are panicking, you can't stand idly by. So in the fall of 1995, Cannavanus mayor Jose Soto announces he's going to capture the chupacabra. Where does he plan to start his hunt? The same forest where Madeline first saw the chupacabra. Now, I should mention, this isn't just any old forest. It's El Junque, the Caribbean national forest and the only rainforest under the U.S. Forest Services Management. It's 28,000 acres and beautiful. But El Junque has always had a pretty unsettling reputation. Long ago, the Taino, the first indigenous people on the island, believed a god lived inside the forest. To this day, people leave animal sacrifices there for Santeria rituals. And over the years, people have reported weird happenings in and around the area.

Strange creatures, sounds, shadows, tons of UFO sightings. This one time, in the 70s, a bunch of teens went camping in El Junque, and they claimed they encountered a skinny human-animal hybrid with claw-like hands and glowing orange eyes. Hours later, they woke up at dawn on a baseball field 12 miles away with no memory of how they got there. So, yeah, El Junque is a creepy place. Which is why, when Mayor Soto arrives outside the tree line at sunset on October 29th, he brings a crucifix for protection. He also brings 200 volunteers armed with guns and machetes and a baby goat to lure the monster out. It's all necessary. He has a town to save. It's a matter

of justice. And with an election coming up soon, possibly a matter of re-election. Soto and his hunting party venture into the woods, weapons at the ready. They load the baby goat into an iron cage for bait. But just as Soto's about to lock the cage, there's a sudden light flash nearby. And the shock sets off his civilian army. Before he can even give an order, guns are blazing, which is not what the mayor wants. Soto begs his men to hold their fire or they'll scare the monster away. Soon, one man runs up to him and says he saw something in a gorge, something that moved fast like a gazelle. But whatever it was probably ran away after all the gunfire. The hunt ends with no success. The Chupacabra is still at large.

Now, to his credit, Soto doesn't give up. Over the next few years, he keeps patrolling El Junque, even after he gets re-elected. He says he's committed to stopping the beast's reign of terror, and soon he gets a much bigger platform to spread the word about his cause. He's invited to appear on Christina, a Miami-based talk show that's like the Oprah of Spanish-language television. Soto appears alongside a UFO researcher and a veterinarian who's convinced that whatever is killing all these animals is not an ordinary predator, at least none that he studied. Together, they managed to convince the previously skeptical Christina that the chupacabra is real. By the end of the show, she says, quote,

I used to laugh every time someone mentioned the chupacabras, but I have to tell you, I don't think it's a normal animal at all. The show broadcast to an audience of 100 million people. I don't think it's a normal animal at all. The show broadcasts to an audience of 100 million people. And soon, reports of the blood-sucking monster start flooding in from all over the United States, Mexico, Brazil, Chile, even as far away as Spain. Now, you could argue that the reports are all about of mass hysteria, a direct result of the Christina episode. But here's the strange thing. Regardless of where the chupacabras spotted, it always leaves a body count. Farm animals are actually getting killed in all these places. Puncture wounds, drained of blood, the whole nine yards. The human imagination

can't make that up. Is the chupacabra some kind of dormant species that's suddenly awakening everywhere? Nobody really knows. Nobody's been able to study one up close. But four years after Soto's Christina appearance, that changes. By August 25, 2000, Nicaraguan farmer Jorge Talavera has had enough. Over the past two weeks, he's woken up to find about five of his animals dead every single day. The killings all match the chupacabra's MO. So Jorge decides he's going to stay up all night on a stakeout. After hours of sitting with his gun, he finally sees the creature he's been looking for. But it's not alone.

According to Jorge, there are three monsters stalking through his goat herd. Two are black. One is yellow. It looks like they have bat-like skin, a bull's head, pink teeth, and ridges up their backs like a crocodile. Jorge fires and the monsters escape. Not the outcome he was looking for, but three days later, Jorge gets a surprise. Next to a cave near his farm, he sees vultures circling over a dead creature he's never seen before. It's mostly a skeleton thanks to the vultures, but he is convinced it's one of his chupacabras. Its tail has the same yellow tinge as the one he had shot at. Of course, once he alerts the media, there is an immediate uproar. A priest says the creature is a

warning sign that humans have strayed from God. A veterinarian says it's a genetically engineered hybrid made in a lab. But Jorge wants to let science do the talking. He sends the remains to a university for testing and days later they come back with results. It's a dead dog. Possibly a feral dog. Maybe one with sarcoptic mange, a skin parasite that can cause hairlessness and discoloration. Mange is a painful disease that makes hunting hard, so the dog would be more likely to attack docile farm animals that won't fight back. But a sick dog might not be the whole story. See, Jorge agrees that the corpse he gets back from the lab is a dog. He never questions that. But he's convinced that it's not the same animal he sent

in. The bones are lighter, the teeth are pinker, and there's more flesh on it. He thinks the biologist switched the body. He doesn't know why, but if it's true, it means there's a cover-up going on. Maybe a much larger conspiracy. Enter the most famous American chupacabra truther, Phyllis Canyon, a woman who's earned herself the nickname the Chupacabra Lady. Phyllis is tough. She's this short, spunky, 50-something rancher who lives in Cuero, Texas, but travels the world hunting animals. She decorates her home with taxidermied animal heads, so not the type to scare easily. But it's 2007, and for two years,

something has been cutting her chickens' throats and draining their blood. She's been using video surveillance, and even though she hasn't seen an attack happen, she has seen a big-eared, fanged, hairless, blue-gray creature prowling around. On July 14th, Phyllis gets a call from a fellow rancher. He's found this dead thing on the road that looks a lot like her mystery predator. Phyllis drives down the road to check it out,

and it does look the same. But while she's there, the rancher gets a call on his cell from one of Phyllis's neighbors. Another one of those creatures is dead, right outside Phyllis's house. Phyllis knows animals, and she can tell these aren't dogs or wolves. When she talks to her brother, he tells her it sounds like this monster that some ranch hands once told him about, the chupacabra. And that's when Phyllis realizes she has not one, but two chupacabras on her hands, or rather in her freezer for preservation. Phyllis sends tissue samples to Texas State University for DNA analysis. The story obviously catches some attention, and on Halloween 2007, Phyllis is going to find out the results on a live television newscast. If it turns out she's wrong, it'll be pretty embarrassing.

But when the results are read aloud, Phyllis is right. This creature isn't a dog or a wolf at all. Coming up, the truth about the chupacabra. Now back to the story. When DNA results for Phyllis' monster come in, experts tell her, live on TV, that unlike the creature Jorge found in Nicaragua, this one isn't a dog with mange. It's a coyote. Now, obviously, this is a huge letdown. Jorge, Phyllis becomes convinced that the university's DNA sequencing isn't telling the whole story, and she vows to keep digging until she finds the truth. But while I support exploring

all avenues, plenty more so-called chupacabras have been DNA tested since Phyllis's encounter. Most turn out to be dogs or coyotes with mange. Some are disfigured raccoons or cholos, a rare hairless breed of Mexican dog. One in New Mexico was just a big dead fish. And if so many experts keep coming up with the same result, don't you kind of have to take their word for it at some point? I mean, yes, cover-ups definitely happen. I mean, if you've been listening to this show, you know that. But it doesn't seem like the scientists are the ones who have motivations to lie. I mean, look at Mayor Soto of Canovanas. He made a name for himself by hunting the chupacabra. It took him all the way to one of the world's biggest talk shows.

Name recognition matters when you're a politician. And using the Chupacabra platform, he ended up getting reelected many times. As for Phyllis Canyon, once she called her beast a Chupacabra, she started turning a profit. I'm talking eight grand a month on merchandise, selling t-shirts with taglines like 2007, the summer of the chupacabra, and the most famous chupacabra encounter of all, Madeline Tolentino's Back in 1995. Well, people later discovered that the description she gave of her monster had a lot in common with a killer alien in the hit 1995 film Species, a movie that Madeline went to see right before her chupacabra sighting. And I'm not saying Madeline didn't see something weird,

but maybe her memory and imagination got the best of her. And that started a twisted game of cryptid telephone that traveled the world and made people rich and famous along the way. But all of that, that still doesn't answer the real question here. What was killing all those animals in Puerto Rico? Farmers never found tracks or DNA at any crime scene. As I mentioned, experts had a lot of far-reaching theories, including feral cats, dogs, and escaped monkeys.

They also proposed that mongooses might be the culprit, which at first sounds just as far-fetched as every other explanation, but stay with me. Mongooses are furry mammals that can grow up to two feet tall and mostly feed on smaller birds, insects, reptiles, and rodents. They aren't native to Puerto Rico, but they were brought to the island in the 19th century to control the rat population. In the 1990s, when the Chupacabra sightings began, the rat population spiked, and in turn, so did the mongoose population. Cryptozoologist John Downs had a theory.

Once the rats were under control, this new horde of mongooses was left without a major food source. They were starving, desperate, and aggressive, maybe even enough to attack creatures they normally would never eat. Now, mongooses aren't bloodsuckers, so it doesn't explain why the animals were drained of blood. But that's because they probably weren't drained. It just looked like it. You might think that a punctured throat would cause a bloodbath. But actually, if the puncture wound happened after the animal's heart stopped pumping, there probably wouldn't be much bleeding. In all likelihood, there was still a full amount of blood inside the animals' bodies.

But since there were no autopsies, no one ever saw it. And yet, to this day, people in Puerto Rico still believe the chupacabra exists. And the prevailing theory is it's an alien somehow linked to the U.S. military. Even though the United States probably isn't running alien experiments in Puerto Rico, islanders have plenty of reasons not to trust the government. Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens, but they don't get any representation in the government. They can't even vote in federal elections. Relations with the mainland U.S. were especially tense in the 90s, around the time Chupacabra sightings started. And research shows that when people are feeling anxious and powerless, they're more likely to believe in conspiracy theories to explain their circumstances.

But while there are a lot of reasons to believe El Chupacabra isn't real, some believers aren't going to give up digging. After Phyllis Canyon was told her Chupacabra was a coyote, she went on to spend $1,000 for another DNA test at UC Davis. And the results turned out to be different. This test said that her Chupacabra was only half coyote on its mother's side. The scientists thought it might be some type of Mexican wolf on the father's side. In other words, it was an unusual hybrid. And as Phyllis said, they said it is a hybrid. I still say it's a chupacabra. Thanks for listening. I'll be back next week with another episode. To hear more stories hosted by me, check out Crime Junkie and all AudioChuck originals.