The Real-Life Most Dangerous Game: The Butcher Baker of Anchorage, Alaska
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Terrified, 17-year-old Cindy Paulson was chained to a post in a remote Alaskan living room. She was naked, cold, and bleeding. Her captor moved to the living room. 44-year-old Robert Hanson passed out, exhausted from the long evening, dragging the girl to his house and assaulting her once there. "I should never have gotten in his car," the teenage prostitute thought to herself. The allure of $200 was simply too strong.

She gazed around the room, looking for anything she could use to escape. Before he left, Hansen had gotten right in her face. She could feel his hot, heavy breath in her nostrils. His face was covered in acne scars and craters. Despite his relentless stutter, his words still shook Cindy to her core. "I haven't slept in a long time. Don't wake me up or you'll make me mad and don't want to see me mad.

Cindy examined the hunting trophies on the wall. Her eyes drifted downward toward a bearskin rug on which Robert had just raped her. She could tell this man liked to kill things and he was damn well good at it. "I have to get out of here," she muttered, cautious not to wake Robert.

She thought about killing him, about breaking free, grabbing one of his pool cues and snapping it over her leg. Then she thought about driving the jagged ends into his chest, as if she were killing Dracula himself. But she couldn't. She was alone in the middle of nowhere. If she killed him, she'd likely die out here. If she tried and failed, he'd certainly kill her. Patience was her only friend. Just then, Robert stirred.

He sat up and yawned as his eyes scanned her naked body from her feet to her eyes. "I li-li-like you," he said. "I'm gonna treat y-y-you special," he told Cindy that he owned a cabin deep in the mountains. He'd drive her to the airport and put her on his private plane. Then, he'd fly her out for an evening of forced lovemaking. "I'll have you back here around 11 o'clock in the morning," he said. Cindy knew it was a lie. She'd die if she stepped on that plane.

the clock was ticking. When the opportunity presented itself, Cindy wouldn't hesitate to take it. In Robert's car, Cindy was forced to lie on the rear seat floor. She was handcuffed and barefoot, but at least fully clothed. Robert covered her with an army blanket and ordered her not to move. Through the fibers, Cindy could see the bright streetlights of downtown Anchorage overhead. If she broke free here, she'd at least know where she was.

Robert's car finally stopped. He told her she could look now, and when she did, she discovered they were at Merrill Field, a small airport outside the city. She watched as Robert made several trips between the car and his plane. He was loading supplies, enough to last them weeks at this alleged cabin. He'd left the door ajar to make transport easier. Cindy watched him like a hawk, gauging his movements, waiting for the perfect time to run.

Her heart raced as Robert picked up another box and returned to the plane. Just as he was about to load it, Cindy bolted. She sprinted across the airport parking lot and toward the main road. Over her shoulder, she could see Robert closing in. He was bigger, faster, and quickly gaining. Just then, two bright headlights came around the bend. Cindy waved her arms frantically, trying to stop the passing truck driver.

But the trucker wasn't stopping. Robert gained ground, and Cindy's heart nearly leaped out of her chest. Finally, she let out a blood-curdling scream, so loud that the trucker heard it through his cabin and slammed on the brakes. Cindy scaled the side and ripped the passenger door open. "He's gonna kill me!" she screamed. "Who's gonna kill you?" the trucker asked. Cindy looked, but Robert was gone.

Cindy didn't know it, but she had just escaped the clutches of Alaska's most famous serial killer. Robert Hanson, aka "The Butcher Baker", is believed to have kidnapped, raped, and murdered at least 17 Alaskan pole dancers and prostitutes. He was famous for flying them to his cabin on the Kinnick River and then hunting them like General Zaroff in Richard Connell's "The Most Dangerous Game".

Meanwhile, Robert concealed his violent tendencies well as a married man with children, completing the idyllic picture with a successful bakery on the corner of 9th and Ingra. All in all, the man was considered well-liked. Had his killing spree continued, Robert's story may have veered away from the most dangerous game and toward Sweeney Todd, The Last Frontier.

Despite being the largest state in the country, roughly 2.3 times the size of Texas, Alaska is 47th in population behind Vermont and Wyoming. The 665,000 square mile state is home to only 740,000 people. To put that in perspective, twice as many people squeeze into the Bronx every day. The state motto is "North to the Future," but most people describe Alaska as the last American frontier.

It's full of lush forests, massive glaciers, and stunning mountain ranges, making it the place to be if you're looking for a pure wilderness experience. That's why hunters arrive in droves year-round. The who's who of big game hunting flock to the Kinnick River Valley, roughly 35 miles northeast of Anchorage. They come to hunt black bears, mountain goats, doll sheep, and moose.

Robert Hansen was among the best hunters around. But his title came from hunting the most dangerous game of all: human beings. Police in Anchorage knew something was going on. Between the late 1970s and mid-80s, the number of missing sex workers and topless dancers increased steadily. For these girls, Anchorage had no shortage of clientele. Men outnumbered women significantly.

Many young girls ventured up from the lower 48 to capitalize on the abundance of mine workers and foresters looking to take the edge off. When they made enough money, they'd move back home, never to be seen or heard from again. So, when several girls were reported missing, it wasn't wrong to assume they'd simply packed up and left. Luckily, seasoned officers like Anchorage detective Maxine Farrell recognized a pattern when she saw one.

In their book, "Butcher Baker: The True Account of an Alaskan Serial Killer," true crime authors Walter Gilmore and Leland Hale described the pattern as lunch dates gone wrong. A girl would meet a man she didn't know. He'd offer her between $200 and $300 for something lewd but innocent, such as naked photography. The women went with him and were never heard from again. Later, their friends or lovers would report them missing.

Detective Farrell's suspicions were confirmed on September 12th, 1982, when two of her fellow off-duty officers went on a moose hunting trip. They ventured into the forest and down to the Kinnick River. Hours went by, and the pair hadn't found anything worth shooting. Then, as the sun set, one of them spotted something by the water. It was a boot sticking out of the sandbar. They assumed another hunter had lost it upriver.

but their police instincts told them to approach cautiously. As they got closer, they noticed a decomposed bone joint attached to the boot. They knew well enough not to disturb the scene. Instead, they carefully marked their location and returned the following morning with backup. Later, police carefully exhumed a partially clothed but badly decomposed body. After taking hundreds of photographs, police sifted the sand for trace evidence.

That's when they found a single shell casing from a .223 caliber bullet. Anchorage officers were familiar with the type of ammunition. It likely came from a high-powered rifle, like an AR-15. Back in Anchorage, an autopsy determined that Jane Doe had been dead for at least six months.

She died from three gunshot wounds, all made with the same .223 caliber rounds. Police also found ace bandages among her remains, suggesting she was wounded or perhaps blindfolded. Two weeks later, police identified the body as 24-year-old Sherry Morrow, a topless dancer at the Wild Cherry in downtown Anchorage.

Her friend said she was last seen on November 17th, 1981, when a man offered her $300 to pose for some nude pictures.

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Go to selectquote.com/crimehub today to get started. That's selectquote.com/crimehub. The Baker's Son. Robert Hansen was born into a strict, religious family in Esterville, Iowa, roughly 3,200 miles from his future hunting ground. They moved around during World War II, ultimately settling in Pocahontas, Iowa, a small city in the state's northwestern corner. As a kid, Robert worked in his father's bakery,

Chris Hansen was a Danish immigrant who ruled his home and business with an authoritarian fist. He ridiculed Robert Daly. When he wasn't attacking his son's work ethic, he was making fun of the boy's severe acne. His mother, meanwhile, turned a blind eye to the abuse. According to psychologists, this likely instilled in Robert that women were weak and easily subjugated. For now, he was alone and small.

But one day, he'd have his revenge. Things got worse during Robert's teenage years. He developed an uncontrollable stutter and was considered an all-American nerd at school. He was painfully shy and had very few friends to begin with. Robert was highly self-conscious about his stutter and his acne. He'd often describe his face as one big pimple.

He came to loathe school during junior high and felt mocked and humiliated by the girls he tried talking to. Despite being a natural lefty, Robert's strict Christian parents forced him to use his right hand. The resulting stress compounded his stutter and worsened his internalized resentment. Graduation couldn't come sooner. In 1957, Robert walked across the stage and straight into the Army Reserves.

He arrived in New Jersey for basic training. According to Robert, this is where he had his first sexual encounter with a prostitute. From then on, sex workers became a significant part of his life. He completed his six months of basic training, after which the army required him to dedicate one weekend each month to service. He spent the rest of his time working in his father's bakery. Robert Hansen was a ticking time bomb.

His time in the army molded him from a meek, self-loathing boy into a vengeful, power-hungry man. Pocahontas Police Chief Marvin Wiseman suspected trouble when Robert began shooting a bow and arrow in the back of his father's store. He was good with it, lethal even. He set up cardboard targets and hit each one dead center. One time, Robert turned to the chief and said, "You can hardly hear that, can you?"

Then, Robert drew a knife from his belt and threw it end over end at the target. Another bullseye. "Can't hardly hear that either," he said. These comments never sat well with Chief Wiseman. When Robert wasn't shooting targets in his father's bakery, he was plotting his revenge on one institution that caused him so much pain and suffering: his school. On December 7th, 1960, Robert implemented his master plan.

He and his only friend met at the bakery around 7pm. They began painting the ovens, which would serve as their alibi while they snuck out the back. Around 7:30, the two men hopped in Robert's car and drove to the local school bus depot. Armed with a can of gasoline, they doused the depot and set it on fire. The school lost three of its seven buses and the depot itself.

Value-wise, Robert caused roughly $11,000 worth of damage, which amounts to $117,000 today. Robert was riding high. His accomplice, however, was riddled with guilt. When word spread that a firefighter almost died trying to fight the blaze, the young man cracked and turned Robert in. Both were sentenced to three years in prison for arson. Robert, however, only served 20 months.

While in jail, he was diagnosed with manic depression and schizophrenia. According to the psychiatrist, Robert had an infantile personality and was obsessed with getting revenge on the people who wronged him. The bakery became Robert's prison upon his release. His father was ashamed, as Robert had tarnished the reputation he'd worked so hard to build. Things only got worse from there.

Robert became something of a kleptomaniac who'd almost ejaculate in his pants whenever he stole something. He was arrested and released several times for petty theft. Following these crimes, Robert's newfound confidence helped him in the dating world. He met and married a woman in 1963. They had two children together, but little is known about either. But Robert wanted more.

The urge to commit even more heinous crimes, like rape and murder, drew from his obsessive need for revenge. But doing so in Pocahontas would surely draw police attention. The town was too small. The population of vulnerable prostitutes and topless dancers was non-existent. Robert decided to head north, to the one place his father, Chief Wiseman, and everyone else in his past would never find him. He packed up and moved to Alaska, his new hunting ground.

Northbound, Robert Hanson and his family arrived in Anchorage in 1967. He reinvented himself and, according to reports, began cultivation of his friendly neighbor and citizen cover. Opening his own bakery played well into this.

Robert quickly became the best bow hunter in the area. He set multiple local records for largest doll sheep. In 1969, '70 and '71, he had four animals entered into Pope and Young's trophy hunting world record books. The Hansen family home was lined with mounted sheep and wolves. His prized possession was a bearskin rug on the living room floor. Despite his reinvention, Robert couldn't suppress his vengeful sexual urges.

On November 15th, 1971, he locked eyes with a young secretary named Susie Hepburn while standing at a stop sign. Years of committing and getting away with petty thefts in Iowa made Robert feel invincible. Susie would be his, and nobody could stop him. He followed her and attempted to kidnap her with a gun. Thankfully, Hepburn escaped before Robert could fire and quickly reported him to the police. Unfortunately, he was never charged or sent to prison.

All he had to do was see a court-appointed psychiatrist. This situation only bolstered Robert's feelings of invincibility. Around Christmas of '71, Robert successfully kidnapped 18-year-old Barbara Fields off the streets of Anchorage. He raped her and then drove her to a secluded area to look at a hunting cabin he recently bought. He released her, likely believing she wouldn't go to the police.

Three days later, police found a young woman's body near the isolated location where Fields was raped. She decided to press charges, believing Robert likely had something to do with the girl's death. For the kidnapping and rape of Barbara Fields, Robert took a plea deal and was sentenced to five years in prison. He only served six months and was placed on a work release program.

His wife stood beside him through it all. He'd manipulated her just like he'd manipulated all the psychiatrists who examined him. But the man wasn't confused or delusional. And he wasn't just suffering from an abusive childhood. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he liked it. According to Alaskan authorities, Robert began his killing spree in late December 1971. It was a particularly warm Christmas day.

Two photographers had driven out to McHugh Creek State Park, hoping to capture a waterfall on camera. They found the perfect spot, roughly 20 feet below a remote picnic area. As one of them focused their lens, he spotted what looked like a mannequin in the brush, roughly 10 feet away. It was partially covered in snow and seemingly twisted at an unnatural angle for a stiff piece of plastic.

Upon closer inspection, the photographers realized it was a woman's body, naked from the waist down. The dead girl was 18-year-old Celia Van Zanten. She'd been missing for over 48 hours and was last seen heading to a local convenience store. She'd been sexually assaulted, and her attacker had slashed her chest multiple times with a blade. However, the damage wasn't enough to kill her. Somehow, she escaped captivity and ran into the freezing woods.

Based on the scene, police believed she was assaulted in her attacker's car. She fled half-naked with her hands bound behind her back. She ran down a steep slope covered in three feet of snow. She fell, stumbled, and rolled all the way down. It would have taken superhuman strength to pick herself up and keep running. She was about 15 feet from the McHugh Creek waterfall when hypothermia overtook her.

Temperatures between the 23rd and the 25th dropped as low as -5 degrees Fahrenheit. She simply froze to death. Anchorage police had little evidence to go on. Then, an 18-year-old prostitute and heroin addict named Sandra Patterson came forward with a story of her own.

She claimed that on December 19th, four days before Celia went missing, a man kidnapped her at gunpoint outside the Nevada Club, a popular Anchorage topless bar. He said he'd kill her if she didn't do what he wanted. He bound her hands with shoelaces and drove her south along Seaward Highway. All the while, he talked about wanting to make love to her. He made her strip naked so she couldn't escape into the cold. Then, he tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

His eyes lit up with anger. Sandra had to think quickly. She said, "I don't want to do it in the car." He calmed down and drove her to a motel roughly 98 miles south of Anchorage for sex. On their way back to the city, he threatened to kill her if she ratted him out. To prove his point, he drove deep into the wilderness and said he'd leave her to freeze. He almost did, but Sandra talked him out of it. Sandra stayed quiet until she heard about Celia Van Zanten

The M.O. fit the description of the man who kidnapped her. She knew she had to tell the police. At the station, Sandra combed what Anchorage cops called "the asshole book." In a time before computers, the A-hole book was a binder containing photos of every pervert and predator they'd come across. Sandra described the man as between 23 and 28 years old. He was slender and wore thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

He said he'd killed other girls, and Sandra believed every word. That's when she flipped a page and landed on Robert Hansen's picture. All the color melted from her face. Her body went limp. Through quivering lips, she said, That's him. Following such convincing clues, police interviewed Robert on December 29th.

He denied being anywhere near the Nevada Club, claiming it wasn't something he'd do right before Christmas. Then, he suddenly stopped the interview and asked to speak with his lawyer. Police knew Robert was already fighting rape and assault charges stemming from the prior attacks in December of '71. Coincidentally, the secretary he attacked back in November lived roughly one mile from Celia Van Zanten's apartment.

Robert was familiar with the area. The close call likely helped Robert change his MO. He liked hunting these girls, but couldn't do it in downtown Anchorage. Instead, he'd have to lure the girls with promise of money, drive them somewhere remote, and hunt them like his record-setting sheep.

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The number of missing dancers and prostitutes had been on the rise for two years. If there was a link, police didn't want to tip their killer off. Instead, they downplayed the serial killer angle. While speaking with the Anchorage Daily News, Maxine Farrell said, "We don't believe we have a mass murderer out there." She didn't like lying, but she knew it was for the best. Behind the scenes, police were comparing Sherry Morrow's murder to the other unsolved cases.

Two seemed to match the profile. On July 21, 1980, construction workers digging near Eklatana Lake Road discovered human remains buried near the power lines. She'd been dead for some time, and animals had scavenged most of her body. There wasn't enough evidence to identify her, so she was known as Eklatana Annie in police files.

Around the same time, police found the body of 24-year-old Joanna Messina, a local topless dancer. She'd been shot to death and left to rot in a gravel pit near Snow River. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. The passage of time only brought more missing women. Many of them have never been found.

Then, on September 2nd, 1983, nearly a full year after off-duty officers found Sherry Morrow, another bullet-riddled corpse appeared along the Kinnick River. Another standout victim in the string of violence was Paula Goulding. Hale describes Paula as an outlier among Roberts' victims. She was in her 30s, while most of Roberts' girls were in their teens or early 20s. She was something of a wanderer.

Born in Arizona, she moved to Hawaii before coming to Anchorage as a bar dancer. Goulding was last seen on April 25th, 1983, when Robert Hansen lured her away with the promise of easy money. The 31-year-old dancer boarded a small plane and flew to Robert's remote hunting cabin. She fought when he tried to rape her, and managed to escape her binds and flee into the woods. Robert, however, was right behind her.

Her body was found in a shallow grave by the river. She died from multiple gunshot wounds to the back, likely from his high-powered .223 caliber rifle. Oddly, her clothes were still intact, suggesting she was naked when she was shot. Robert must have dressed her before burying the body. Her perfect teeth helped identify her body after months of decay.

Anchorage police believe Paula Goulding was Robert's final victim before Cindy Paulson's miraculous escape. The hunter becomes the hunted. On the evening of June 13th, 1983, Anchorage police officer Greg Baker arrived at the Big Timber Motel, where Cindy had asked the truck driver who saved her to drop her off. She was still wearing Robert's handcuffs when Officer Baker found her.

He removed them as he listened to the wildest story he'd ever heard. She said Robert had offered her $200 for oral sex. She agreed and hopped in his car. Midway through, Robert pulled a gun on her. If she cooperated, he swore he wouldn't kill her. They drove to Robert's home, which was empty while his wife and kids were away in Europe. Once inside, Robert raped her and bit her nipples.

He shoved a hammer into her vagina, then fell asleep on the couch, leaving Cindy handcuffed to a pole in the living room. Officer Baker brought Cindy to police HQ, where she gave a formal statement. From there, officers brought her back to the Merrill Field Airport, hoping Robert's plane was still grounded. Cindy examined every plane as they drove around,

Then, a blue and white Piper Super Cub caught her eye. A quick check with the flight tower confirmed that the aircraft belonged to Robert Hansen. Police dropped Cindy off at the hospital before driving to confront Robert at home. He was outraged when they accused him of rape. He claimed he'd never met Cindy Paulson and that she was just trying to shake him down for money. "You can't p-p-p-rape a prostitute c-c-c-can you?" he snidely stuttered.

Robert told police that his wife and kids were away on vacation. He'd spent the night at home having dinner with two friends who'd gladly corroborate his story. Police spoke with those friends who vouched for Robert's alibi. No charges were ever filed. But police weren't letting him go that easily. They were convinced they had a serial killer on their hands after discovering the body of Paula Goulding.

They contacted the FBI, who sent one of their brightest criminal minds to assist Anchorage police. Special Agent John Douglas is a legendary figure in American law enforcement. If you've ever seen Mindhunters on Netflix, the main character, Holden Ford, is based on Agent Douglas. Consider him the godfather of serial killer profiling.

In his 1996 book, Mindhunter, inside the FBI's elite serial crime unit, Douglas wrote about his initial profile of Alaska's latest serial killer. When he arrived, Anchorage police were between a glacier and a hard place. They suspected Robert of the murders, but didn't see how a well-respected business owner and family man could commit such horrible crimes. Agent Douglas saw right through the ruse.

Without knowing much about Robert Hansen, he surmised that their killer had a speech impediment and was likely teased by girls growing up. He had an abusive relationship with his father, and his mother likely skewed his view of women. Douglas was among the first to compare Hansen's crimes with General Zaroff and the most dangerous game. In the book, Zaroff describes how he intentionally shipwrecked sailors to trap them on his island.

He referred to them as "the scum of the earth", which is likely how Robert saw prostitutes and topless dancers. He didn't begin by hunting and killing them though. He'd likely kidnap and murder them, and then use his plane to fly the bodies away and bury them in the wilderness. It was only after a handful of murders that Robert realized he could combine his passions. Regarding the murder weapon, Robert's hunting rifle was an extension of himself.

Unlike the typical criminal who can abandon weapons with ease, a serial killer's primary tool means something to him. In Robert's case, the rifle he used to hunt his victims would be somewhere in his home. It wouldn't be in plain view though, and it wouldn't be with the other weapons. It would be hidden somewhere special, like a crawlspace or behind a false wall.

Douglas also predicted that Robert would be a saver, or someone who keeps trophies from each of his victims. Robert was a game hunter after all. Douglas writes, "Hanson couldn't put a woman's head on the wall the way he would a big game animal. So I thought he would likely take some other kind of trophy. In some cases, serial killers take pieces of their victims' bodies. However, in Robert's case, none of the bodies were mutilated in such a way.

Instead, Robert likely took their jewelry and gifted it to his wife and daughter. Bracelets and necklaces were easy to account for. Douglas believed that Hansen likely kept a detailed journal of his exploits. Something he could easily revisit to relive the crimes without returning to the scene. If the police could find that, they could easily link Hansen to all the murders. For now, they had to focus on cracking his alibi.

Douglas believed that Robert's friends were lying for him. Robert hadn't been charged with any crimes when police first spoke to his friends. Therefore, lying wouldn't yield any consequences. So, Anchorage officers convinced the district attorney to formally investigate the Cindy Paulson case. A grand jury convened, and police returned to question Robert's friends, this time under the threat of perjury.

As Douglas suspected, the men cracked and admitted to lying. Neither had been with Hansen that night. In fact, Hansen had approached them that evening and asked for their help with an awkward situation. But that wasn't all Robert's friends had to say. They told police that Robert was pulling an insurance fraud scam. In the early 1980s, Robert reported a burglary at his home.

The scam netted him a $13,000 payout from the insurance company, and he used the seed money to open his bakery. In reality, there was no robbery. The items that were stolen were hidden in Robert's basement. All they had to do was look. Within hours, an Anchorage judge issued eight search warrants on Robert's properties. On October 27th, 1983, detectives waited outside Hansen's bakery for him to close for the day.

As he left, police approached and arrested him on charges of kidnapping, rape, and insurance fraud. A search of his home uncovered a .223 caliber hunting rifle. Ballistics tests on the gun later confirmed that it fired the shell casing found near the bodies. Police discovered another arsenal of weapons under the floorboards of his attic. As Douglas predicted, they also found several items belonging to the victims.

including driver's licenses and jewelry. His wife and daughter confirmed that Robert had been gifting them bracelets, watches, and necklaces since 1972. Instead of a journal, police discovered a detailed aviation map of the area. It was covered in X's, many of which coincided with the bodies they'd already found. The police assumed the other X's marked graves dug throughout the Alaskan wilderness.

Based on Robert's map, the forest surrounding Anchorage was his personal cemetery.

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The Endgame. Under questioning, Robert claimed that the shell casings found at each crime scene were a pure coincidence.

He liked to practice shooting in those areas. How could he have known there were dead bodies buried nearby? The cat and mouse game continued until Hansen lawyered up. It seemed as though he'd fight this until the bitter end. He pleaded not guilty to all charges, and his bail was set at half a million dollars. His tune changed on November 20th, when the ballistics tests on his hunting rifle came back. Facing a mountain of evidence, Robert decided to cut a deal.

In exchange for a full confession, the DA agreed to only charge Robert with the four homicide cases they knew of: Sherry Morrow, Joanna Messina, Paula Goulding, and Eklatunna Annie. Robert would also serve his time in a federal facility instead of a maximum security prison. Most importantly, the DA agreed to take the death penalty off the table. All parties signed the paperwork, and Robert began spilling his guts.

At first, he tried to rationalize his behavior. He said he only wanted oral sex from prostitutes, as he didn't believe it was something he could ask his "dignified wife" for. If the girls complied, nothing would happen. If they acted up, Robert would punish them. He claimed that 30 out of the 40 prostitutes he met went willingly on his plane. He brought them back alive. The others, well, the others weren't so lucky.

Special Agent Douglas found this hard to believe. Sex workers are in the business of turning quick tricks and moving on to the next customer. To get on somebody's plane and fly to the middle of nowhere wouldn't be worth it, even for two or three hundred bucks. Robert then described a typical encounter with one of his victims. He'd pay them for oral sex, they'd get in his car, and he'd drive somewhere further away.

During the act, he'd pull a gun on them and say, "You're a professional. You know there is some r-r-risk to what you've been doing. If you d-d-d-do exactly what I tell you, you-you won't get hurt." Robert would act as tough as he could, despite his stutter. He wanted to scare his victims into submission. From there, he'd take the girls on his plane and fly them to his remote cabin. He'd brutally rape and torture them, sometimes all through the night.

Then, when he was done, he'd blindfold them and send them running naked into the wilderness. He'd wait, giving them a head start, like General Zaroff. Then, the hunt began. He described the rush like he was going after a trophy doll or a grizzly bear. Later in the interview, Hansen reviewed his aerial map with the police.

Unfortunately, the X's he drew were large enough to cover several square miles. Locating the bodies without his help would have been impossible, so the police agreed to fly Robert from gravesite to gravesite. 24 hours later, police had the locations of 12 unknown victims. In the end, investigators believed that Robert had raped over 30 women between 1970 and 1983.

Of them, he hunted and murdered at least 17, and as many as 21. On February 27th, 1984, Robert Hansen was sentenced to life in prison, plus an additional 461 years. In August 2014, he died at Alaska Regional Hospital in Anchorage due to complications from lingering health problems. He was 75 years old.

As for his wife and children, they remained in Alaska until two years of relentless harassment forced them to move. Using modern technology, in 2021, one of Robert's unnamed victims was identified thanks to public DNA databases. On April 25th, 1984, police used Robert's map to uncover a partial skeleton near Horseshoe Lake in Palmer, Alaska, roughly 40 miles outside of Anchorage.

For nearly 40 years, she was known as Horseshoe Harriet. Her real name was Robin Pelkey. Robin was born in Colorado in 1963 and moved to Alaska during the early 80s. She would have been 19 years old at the time of her murder, though there's no record that she was ever reported missing. As of 2025, the only unidentified victim is Eklatunna Annie. Robert admitted to stabbing her in the back as she tried to flee his car.

He, however, never bothered to learn her real name. In the most dangerous game, Richard Connell writes: "The world is made up of two classes: the hunters and the huntees." For Robert, his victims were like animals. They were lesser, a game for him to play. He looked down on them from atop the food chain and smiled as he loaded his gun. "I'll give you a head start," he said, "and then the hunt begins."

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