<![CDATA[ April 1874. Present day Colorado. A half-starved weather-beaten Alfred Packer came limping into the Los Pinos Indian Agency seeking refuge. Feet covered in rags he claimed he had a harrowing story to tell.
The man was ushered in and given food which he vomited up almost as soon as he got it down. Too long without he explained, asking instead for whiskey. Anything that would calm his stomach and hopefully his trembling hands.
Finally, Alfred spoke. Said he had been a guide up in the mountains for some prospectors. They hit some bad weather and worse luck. He himself got snow-blinded and the other five would-be miners abandoned him.
For the next two months this survivor somehow scrapped by - living by his wits, surviving the hellish winter, and making it to civilization all on his own, with almost no supplies.
An amazing tale of endurance, for sure. There’s just one catch - Alfred Packer didn’t seem all that malnourished. Matter of fact, the man seemed pretty well fed. And his story? Well, it had holes.
Who was Alfred Packer? Was he truly guilty of the crimes that would see him spend nearly two decades behind bars? And what’s human flesh taste like, anyway?
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