The Sasquatch Sequel

Yet because Biscardi had the audacity to promise DNA evidence, photos, and even video of Bigfoot creatures lurking in the woods, some 50 media outlets flocked to the Crowne Plaza hotel in Palo Alto, Calif., on Aug. 15 for the press conference that Biscardi had set up: ABC, CBS, The Associated Press … NEWSWEEK.

By the end of the day, this latest installment in the Bigfoot saga was the most-viewed story on MSNBC and CNN.com, which carried live coverage of the 45-minute conference that Friday afternoon. But, then, despite the excitement, the proof proved nonexistent. The pictures were laughable. There was no video. And the DNA evidence? It came back possum. "It means he'd probably eaten one," insisted Biscardi, who at the time had taken the Georgians under his wing but now says he plans to sue them for fraud. Their lawyer says they were the ones who were duped as Biscardi spun their little joke into a national news event.

Biscardi says he and his backers shelled out $50,000 for the body, only to discover days later that—shock!—it was nothing but a costume stuffed with animal parts: ham bones, intestines, eyes, teeth, an entire pig and, it would seem, some possum. "We're still pulling things out of it," says Bob Schmalzbach, one of Biscardi's associates who went to Georgia the day before the press conference to deliver $50,000 in cash to Whitton and Dyer. He said he thought what he saw in the block of ice was the real deal. "I could see a silhouette. I chipped the ice down to teeth and eyeballs, and thought, "This is a real animal here." So Schmalzbach handed over the money and hauled away the enormous Sasquatch-sicle in a trailer while toasting his fellow Bigfoot hunters. "We were sure we'd solved the mystery."

By Sunday morning the jig was up. The body had thawed enough for Schmalzbach to see it was a rubber costume. An irate Biscardi called Whitton and Dyer, who admitted to the hoax, then skipped town, allegedly leaving Biscardi with the bill for their Palo Alto hotel room.

Bigfoot investigators who hope to be taken seriously claim the hoax is a blight on the reputation of an industry, if not a science. "This kind of stuff discredits what we're trying to do and has ticked off a lot of people," says Matt Moneymaker, head of the Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization, a group based in Orange County, Calif., that has catalogued thousands of reported sightings since it launched in 1995. For the last four years, BFRO has organized almost weekly expeditions across the country. Members make audio recordings of supposed Bigfoot calls, study footprints, ride around on all-terrain vehicles, use night-vision goggles--and charge spectators for the chance to tag along.

Moneymaker says what his group does is legit research compared to the P. T. Barnum approach of a Biscardi. But the great 19th-century huckster and hoaxer who famously said "there's a sucker born every minute" also said, more usefully, and perhaps more truthfully, "without promotion something terrible happens … Nothing!" Bigfoot researchers may be embarrassed by it, but not all publicity is bad publicity.  The latest hoax lit up the Bigfoot chat boards brighter than the opening ceremonies at the Beijing Olympics.