The Strange & Curious Tale of the Last True Hermit

rockin'robin

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For nearly thirty years, a phantom haunted the woods of Central Maine. Unseen and unknown, he lived in secret, creeping into homes in the dead of night and surviving on what he could steal. To the spooked locals, he became a legend—or maybe a myth. They wondered how he could possibly be real. Until one day last year, the hermit came out of the forest/

The hermit set out of camp at midnight, carrying his backpack and his bag of break-in tools, and threaded through the forest, rock to root to rock, every step memorized. Not a boot print left behind. It was cold and nearly moonless, a fine night for a raid, so he hiked about an hour to the Pine Tree summer camp, a few dozen cabins spread along the shoreline of North Pond in central Maine. With an expert twist of a screwdriver, he popped open a door of the dining hall and slipped inside, scanning the pantry shelves with his penlight.

Candy! Always good. Ten rolls of Smarties, stuffed in a pocket. Then, into his backpack, a bag of marshmallows, two tubs of ground coffee, some Humpty Dumpty potato chips. Burgers and bacon were in the locked freezer. On a previous raid at Pine Tree, he'd stolen a key to the walk-in, and now he used it to open the stainless-steel door. The key was attached to a plastic four-leaf-clover key chain, with one of the leaves partially broken off. A three-and-a-half-leaf clover.

He could've used a little more luck. Newly installed in the Pine Tree kitchen, hidden behind the ice machine, was a military-grade motion detector. The device remained silent in the kitchen but sounded an alarm in the home of Sergeant Terry Hughes, a game warden who'd become obsessed with catching the thief. Hughes lived a mile away. He raced to the camp in his pickup truck and sprinted to the rear of the dining hall. He peeked in a window.

And there he was. Probably. The person stealing food appeared entirely too clean, his face freshly shaved. He wore eyeglasses and a wool ski hat. Was this really the North Pond Hermit, a man who'd tormented the surrounding community for years—decades—yet the police still hadn't learned his name?

Hughes used his cell phone, quietly, and asked the Maine State Police to alert trooper Diane Perkins-Vance, who had also been hunting the hermit. Before Perkins-Vance could get there, the burglar, his backpack full, started toward the exit. If the man stepped into the forest, Hughes understood, he might never be found again.

The burglar eased out of the dining hall, and Hughes used his left hand to blind the man with his flashlight; with his right he aimed his .357 square on his nose. "Get on the ground!" he bellowed.

The thief complied, no resistance, and lay facedown, candy spilling out of his pockets. It was one thirty in the morning on April 4, 2013. Perkins-Vance soon arrived, and the burglar was placed, handcuffed, in a plastic chair. The officers asked his name. He refused to answer. His skin was strangely pale; his glasses, with chunky plastic frames, were extremely outdated. But he wore a nice Columbia jacket, new Lands' End blue jeans, and sturdy boots. The officers searched him, and no identification was located.

Read more.....

http://www.gq.com/news-politics/newsmakers/201409/the-last-true-hermit
 
Wow. What a long, but really, really interesting story. Thanks for posting it!
 
This happened close to my childhood home, the place where he was caught was a boy scout camp that my brother used to attend.

Knight is now out of jail, as of oct 2013, now on probation for 3 years. He works, lives in his hometown, and is paying restitution to his victims.

A rather interesting character, I must say!
 
I thought of you when I read this story because I was pretty sure I remembered you were from Maine.

My ex husband has a summer home in Wells (Beach), the town near Kennebunkport. Is that anywhere near?
 
I thought of you when I read this story because I was pretty sure I remembered you were from Maine.

My ex husband has a summer home in Wells (Beach), the town near Kennebunkport. Is that anywhere near?

No, no where near close, probably 90 miles north west of Wells Beach.

At the present time I do live about 20 miles from Wells Beach. I'm a bit inland probably as close to the ocean as I want to be. I'm more of a mountain person than ocean/beach. My hometown was close to mountains,still own a piece of land there.
 
I was thinking he may had Asperger's when I started reading the story , I did not read all of it yet . It's very sad that he never got the help he needed to feel a part of society .
 
It did say they evaluated him for Asperger's but I don't think they officially said he was. Not so sure he actually 'needed help' before he disappeared but then I don't know what his life was like aside from what was mentioned in the article. It appears it was fine and he said so himself... more the family dynamics was "Old Yankee"- stoic and not emotionally demonstrative.

He would never give a complete reason as to why he walked away but on the last page he does give a glimmer as to why.
 
It did say they evaluated him for Asperger's but I don't think they officially said he was. Not so sure he actually 'needed help' before he disappeared but then I don't know what his life was like aside from what was mentioned in the article. It appears it was fine and he said so himself... more the family dynamics was "Old Yankee"- stoic and not emotionally demonstrative.

He would never give a complete reason as to why he walked away but on the last page he does give a glimmer as to why.

Actually, he seemed quite normal to me, that's us Mainer's I guess. :lol:
 
He isnt the last true hermit...plenty of them....really...
 
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