Cassie believed (or perhaps she simply wanted her readers to believe) that the Jersey Devil was responsible for the dead deer in Doah Township. Here is one of the stories she wrote for the tabloid, as recounted in Who is Killing Doah’s Deer?
Dinosaurs All Around, Underground
Faithful readers will know that we have provided extensive coverage of the continuing story of the dead deer of Doah Township. We have kept you informed on this mysterious phenomenon and have examined the most popular explanations. We have de-bunked the hunter hypothesis as well as the vampire theory. We have proven that the deer are not victims of extra-terrestrial experimentation (although we have documented an unusually high concentration, in the Barrens, of little blue men with big blue heads, and more recently, of tiny blue babies with antlers). We have reported to you, our faithful readers, on the results of our year-long investigation which has revealed that the creature that is responsible for the mysterious materialization of dead deer in Doah Township is none other than the infamous Jersey Devil.
We have recounted for you the history of the Jersey Devil, but some of you have been skeptical. Some of you have argued that sightings stretching back over 280 years cannot possibly all be from one creature. And you have dismissed the possibility of multiple generations of Devil, as though the absence of any sightings of Jersey Devil babies, or Jersey Devil eggs, must therefore prove their non-existence. Even my editor has become a skeptic.
Until this morning, I had planned to address this criticism of my research, to offer a plausible explanation, to build for you, my faithful audience, brick by empirical brick, the logical case for the Devil, but I have lost my enthusiasm for such an endeavor. More about that later.
Were I still inclined to make my case, I would start by reminding you, the reader, of the numerous stories that have been featured in this magazine about the maze of underground tunnels and caverns that have been rumored to exist all over New Jersey, in areas both urban and rural, even directly under the state capital, underground spaces with no obvious function, places of intrigue and power. And I would remind the reader that these stories have been authored by numerous reputable individuals, none of them yours truly. To what purpose have these underground caverns and tunnels been built?
Were I still inclined to make my case, I would report to you on the research that has been conducted by the federal government, research which concludes that it may be possible for ancient creatures to survive deep underground, in caverns, long after mainstream science has consigned them to extinction.
And I would point out to you that with the advent of deep-water technology, oceanographers have had parallel findings on the ocean floor, findings of pre-historic sea creatures, long considered extinct.
I do not have the passion to make my case, but were I still inclined to convince you, I would point out that reports of the Jersey Devil do not really begin in the 1700s. I would refer you to the oral history of native Americans, which make mention of numerous sightings, with and without the intercession of hallucinogens, of awesome flying creatures, creatures of majesty and of mystery, heralds of life, and more importantly, of death.
Were I of a mind to make my case, I would tell you of a professor of ethnobiology who has completed an exhaustive examination of the evidence concerning the existence of the Jersey Devil, who has come to the conclusion that the Jersey Devil is a pterodactyl, surviving underground.
Were I of a mind to make my case, I would tell you all of these things and you would believe me because all of these are true facts. But today, I am not of a mind to build my case. Today, as I went out in search of proof of the Jersey Devil, I was confronted with a more urgent truth—the truth of the death of a very good man.
Today I do not have the stomach to tell you that a decent man, a hard working man, a science teacher, an environmentalist, a man who was so comfortable with who he was that he would sing songs from the Lion King in front of his students without embarrassment, a man who died this morning wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, today I will not tell you that this man, this decent, hard working gentleman was murdered by an extinct dinosaur.
But were I of a mind to make my case, I would tell you that he died with the same unexplained puncture wounds to the neck that have characterized the deaths of the many, the very many dead deer of Doah Township.