Man tells of being hunted like prey

His captors were drug dealers who shot arrows at him, he tells deputies.

By THOMAS LAKE
Published June 19, 2007

ADVERTISEMENT [Times photo: Thomas Lake] This Hudson man insists that he spent last weekend being hunted for sport. "I was begging for my life," he said.

HUDSON - He crawled from the woods Sunday afternoon, wet and muddy, crazy with thirst, covered in scratches from shin to scalp.

When he got to the hospital they mocked him, he said. They laughed and made jokes. They found his story very hard to believe.

Most people would.

Most people would narrow their eyes if you told them you'd been running through the forest for the past 36 hours while drug dealers fired arrows within inches of your flesh.

But the man swears it is true. He insists that he spent last weekend being hunted for sport.

"I was begging for my life," he said Monday, holding back tears.

The man is 38 years old, a construction laborer. His criminal record includes charges of DUI, battery and possession of marijuana. The St. Petersburg Times is honoring his request to withhold his name because no one has been arrested for what he says happened and he says he is terrified that the drug dealers will hurt his family.

His tale brings to mind a famous short story from 1924, The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell; as well as a 1994 movie called Surviving the Game, starring Ice-T as the dreadlocked prey.

Its veracity is hard to determine. The Pasco County Sheriff's Office is investigating the allegation, although at noon Monday spokesman Doug Tobin said that deputies had yet to find any stray arrows or corroborating witnesses. Nevertheless, he did say that the condition in which the man was found was consistent with having been exposed to the elements for two days.

The man stood shirtless outside his house Monday, his body still a mass of scratches. This is the story he told:

It started about 7 a.m. Saturday, when he drove to the BP station on U.S. 19 to fill his tank. Two men grabbed him and forced him into an unknown vehicle. He recognized them because they'd previously sold him crack cocaine.

Two other men followed in another vehicle. They took him north, to some woods near Sea Pines Drive, and they let him out.

"You better run," they said. "We're going to get you."

He ran. They chased. He heard bowstrings snapping, arrows whistling. He figured they were angry because he'd been seeing a woman who happened to be one drug dealer's girlfriend. They drove him deep into the woods.

The hunt had an air of meticulous premeditation. There were booby traps, logs rigged with ropes, archers in trees. He kept running. He dived over a log into a murky pool and looked up and saw raw chicken hanging from a tree. Bait.

An alligator burst from the water and nearly took him in its jaws. He barely escaped and ran on. Someone played the haunting song of an ice cream truck.

"Please don't kill me," he cried.

His mouth was parched and his legs cramped up and his sides burned with pain. Still the arrows came. From time to time he heard traffic and looked for a road but the hunters encircled him and herded him into the wilderness. Somewhere along the line his shirt came off. He lay in a mud puddle, pretending to be dead.

He remembered hearing that bark contains water. He hoped it would ease his thirst. He peeled some off and chewed it up. It was dry and horrible. He spat it out.

Night fell and day broke and he kept running, kept trying to hide. He was bitten by spiders and fire ants. Late Sunday afternoon, near Old Dixie Highway, he saw a house in the distance. He stayed down, out of sight. He crawled 200 yards through a muddy trench to safety.

His captors ran off.

"I beat youse!" he yelled.

A man came out of the house and gave him a drink from the hose. He drank until he vomited.

At the hospital, Regional Medical Center Bayonet Point, they gave him intravenous fluids. When he told the nurse what happened, she played along.

Did you see bears? she asked in derision. Elephants?

"Yeah," he said, deciding he could play along too. "Pink ones."

Times researcher Carolyn Edds contributed to this report. Thomas Lake can be reached at tlake@sptimes.com or toll-free at 1-800-333-7505, ext. 6245.

[Last modified June 18, 2007, 22:35:14]