Cold Case Files: Just what was the "Murphy Monster" and why has it been missing since 1982?
In the hours just after sunrise on a mid-October morning in 1987, an 18-year-old bowhunter sat motionless in a tree stand on a forested rolling hill near the tiny town of Murphy in Mayes County. The air hung still and cool in the 40s, the sky partly cloudy, with no wind to stir the dense woods surrounding the open hay meadows and winding creeks that fed toward the Grand River.
Wildlife thrived in the remote area roughly three miles west of Murphy, a community of about 100 residents with little traffic on nearby U.S. Highway 412
.The young man had driven out about an hour before daybreak, parked in a hay meadow, and walked half a mile through the dense forest using a flashlight. He wore full fall camouflage clothing, face paint, and pure skunk scent to mask his own odor. His stand sat about eight feet off the ground in an unusually shaped tree that grew almost sideways from its stump, allowing him to walk forward onto the platform with little climbing.
Positioned halfway down a hill roughly five stories high, the stand overlooked a small creek, with the hilltop directly behind him.He settled in before sunrise and waited in silence. As light filtered through the trees, the woods came alive with squirrels scurrying around the stand and birds singing overhead.
After about 20 minutes, the activity ceased abruptly. The birds fell silent and the squirrels vanished. The sudden stillness struck him as odd, yet he remained perfectly still.
Five minutes later, three or four small rocks flew from behind him. One struck the branches above his head while the others landed within 10 yards in front of the stand. He did not move. Then came the sound of breaking branches from the top of the hill, moving steadily downward toward him.
Something heavy-footed approached, stepping on branches and crunching through leaves without any apparent concern for noise. The creature’s breathing grew audible, heavy and distinctive, with louder exhales than inhales. A musky odor drifted in as the presence drew within five yards directly behind the stand.
For two or three minutes the creature stood there, continuing its unique breathing pattern. Then it issued a short snarling growl before turning and walking back up the hill, again breaking branches as it left. Within a few minutes the sounds faded.
About five minutes after that, the forest returned to normal. Birds resumed singing and squirrels reappeared. The hunter waited another five minutes before climbing down quickly, running to the open meadow, reaching his vehicle, and leaving the area. He was alone that morning and found no physical evidence, choosing not to investigate out of fear. No damage or injuries occurred.
Looking back, he believed the creature had watched him arrive by vehicle, followed his path to the stand, thrown the rocks to encourage him to leave, and then approached to intimidate him when he stayed put.
Years later the witness, who went on to serve 18 years as a detective with the Tulsa Police Department before retiring in 2015, still described the encounter as one of the most fearful moments of his life.
He recalled that two local newspapers operating at the time, the Pryor Daily Times and the Jeffersonian, had printed stories about a “Murphy Monster,” including an account from a rancher who reported finding dead livestock on his property. Those papers later closed and were replaced by another publication, though archives might still exist at the Pryor Public Library.
In early 1987, ranchers around Murphy reported attacks on cattle. One widely noted case involved stockman Dwayne Stamper, who found a heifer dead within sight of his house in February
. The animal showed scratch marks on its hips and had one ear torn off. A veterinarian examined the carcass and found no teeth marks or injuries severe enough to explain the death, concluding the cow likely died of a heart attack. Wildlife experts who looked at the marks said they were consistent with either a mountain lion or a black bear.
Stamper and others noted that such predators were uncommon in more settled northeastern Oklahoma, though bears were occasionally reported farther southeast and mountain lions had confirmed sightings mainly in the western part of the state.
Neighboring accounts added to the unease. One resident’s horse became so frightened one night that it broke through two fences. Another’s dogs barked furiously then fled into the house and refused to go back out. A cow returned from a hillside pasture missing its tail. A trapper working the area reportedly abandoned his camp after hearing an “unearthly growling.”
As these stories circulated, the phrase “Murphy Monster” took hold. Stamper and others publicly rejected the idea of a supernatural creature, insisting something large and unusual was simply troubling livestock. They believed media coverage had exaggerated the reports into something more dramatic than the evidence supported.
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In a phone interview conducted nearly 30 years after the incident, BFRO investigator Carter Buschardt spoke with the witness. The former law enforcement officer’s attention to detail and careful notes taken after the event provided a well-documented account that remained clear decades later.
The investigator noted that the headlights of the arriving vehicle would have illuminated the entry point from the hay field into the woods. From there the path led up a slight rise to the stand, which offered a clear view of the hunting area once occupied.
The early morning forest had been active with wildlife until the sudden quiet that preceded the approach of whatever had come down from the hilltop.
