---
title: "Two Hundred And Eighteen Hairs. The Most-Cited One No Longer Exists."
dek: "A dissolved society's hair cabinet reached this newspaper through a solicitor. Two labs sequenced all 218 samples blind and agree to within one: 141 black bear, 39 farm and domestic animals, 21 human, six not animal at all."
kind: investigation (Investigation)
desk: Cryptids
author: Sal Brindisi (fictional)
published: 2026-08-22T08:00:00Z
url: https://theyburied.com/article/two-hundred-eighteen-hairs
tags: hair analysis, Walla Walla, black bear, archives, sequencing
genre: satire
status: fiction — nothing in this story happened; every person, source and document is invented
---

# Two Hundred And Eighteen Hairs. The Most-Cited One No Longer Exists.

*A dissolved society's hair cabinet reached this newspaper through a solicitor. Two labs sequenced all 218 samples blind and agree to within one: 141 black bear, 39 farm and domestic animals, 21 human, six not animal at all.*

Two hundred and eighteen envelopes. One hundred and forty-one of them are black bear.

That is what came back from sequencing an entire numbered hair archive, blind, at two laboratories on two continents, and it is not the finding this story is about.

The finding is envelope 007. It is empty.

> **Figure:** Envelope 007, from the fence line to the empty drawer — see https://theyburied.com/article/two-hundred-eighteen-hairs

## How a cabinet nobody wanted arrived here

A regional hominid research society kept a numbered hair archive from 1962 until it dissolved in 2004. Every sample has a card: date, county, collector, and a hand-drawn sketch of where it was found. Some of the sketches are very good.

When the last surviving officer died in November 2025, the solicitor handling the estate, Ruthann Okafor-Vestal, offered the whole cabinet to this newspaper. She had offered it first to two universities and a county museum. All three declined on storage grounds, in writing, and we have published their letters because they are the most honest documents in the file.

## What we did with it

We did not take a sample of the archive. We took the archive.

A third party renumbered all 218 envelopes into an odd set and an even set. The odd set went to a wildlife forensic genetics laboratory in Alberta. The even set went to a degraded-DNA facility in Uppsala. Neither was told what the collection was, whose it had been, or what anybody hoped for.

They agree to within one sample.

One hundred and forty-one American black bear. Thirty-nine cow, dog or horse. Twenty-one human. Six not animal at all: fibreglass loft insulation, carpet backing, and a synthetic wig fibre so distinctive that the Uppsala laboratory identified the manufacturer.

Eleven produced no readable sequence.

## The eleven

Sample 007 is one of the eleven, and it is the only one of the eleven whose failure needs no laboratory to explain it.

It is the Walla Walla hair. It is cited in thirty-four published papers and in every popular book on the subject. It is the specimen the field has argued about since 1971, and when our correspondent opened the envelope in a room in Pasco with two witnesses present, there was a card, a fold, and nothing in the fold.

Nothing was suppressed. Nothing was swapped. There is none of it left.

## What happened to it

In 1998 the society's third custodian, Delmar Rusk-Ainsley, ran an Ouchterlony double-diffusion assay on sample 007. It was the best method available to an amateur that year and it consumed the entire specimen — eleven milligrams, all of it.

He typed the result on one sheet. He put the sheet in a box. In 2006 he could no longer pay the rent on the storage unit, and he and his son-in-law kept the cabinet and threw out four boxes of loose paper.

The single most-argued object in this field was used up by somebody who believed in it, doing his best, with a technique that was superseded four years later.

> A sample that no one will test is not evidence, it is a relic, and I did not want to be the keeper of a relic.
>
> — Delmar Rusk-Ainsley

His reply runs at the foot of this page. It is longer than our article and it should be.

## The part of the cabinet that is worth something

The cards.

Each one gives a date, a county, a collector and a sketch. Set the mystery aside and read them as what they physically are: 141 dated, located records of black bear, made by people who were out in the woods a great deal, in nine counties, years before the state wildlife agency logged the species there.

Dr. Nkechi Halvard-Ozoemena works on black bear range in the interior Northwest. She now cites the cabinet. So does one other mammalogist. She reads it alongside the eleven-site environmental-DNA survey this newspaper commissioned in a Washington watershed two years ago, [[PX-2029]], which found the same animal by a different method and sixty years later.

"Amateur natural history collections are the only long-run field data we have for most species," she told us, "and they are usually thrown away, and they are usually thrown away because the amateurs were interested in the wrong animal."

## What this desk takes from it

Our correspondent has spent eighteen years being told that hair is worthless because hair is always bear. Hair is usually bear. It is bear 141 times out of 218 here, and that number is now on the record, from two laboratories, at his newspaper's expense.

But the story he cannot put down is the eleven milligrams.

There is a version of this in which somebody hid the sample. That version is untrue and it is also less interesting than what happened, which is that four universities did not answer their letters, an amateur got tired of waiting, and the object at the centre of a fifty-year argument was consumed on a kitchen table by the one man in the country who took it seriously enough to test it.

## Sources (invented)

- Ruthann Okafor-Vestal, Solicitor to the estate of the society's last officer — Offered the cabinet to this newspaper in writing; the whole correspondence is published with this story (January 2026)
- Dr. Emmeline Barquist-Achebe, Director, wildlife forensic genetics laboratory, Alberta — Sequenced the 109 odd-numbered accessions blind; report published entire (March–June 2026)
- Dr. Tobias Ruiz-Wennerström, Degraded-DNA facility, Uppsala — Sequenced the 109 even-numbered accessions blind, with no contact with the other laboratory (March–June 2026)
- Delmar Rusk-Ainsley, The society's third custodian, 1981–2004 — Wrote to us four days after our letter; then two telephone interviews of 90 and 55 minutes (May and June 2026)
- Dr. Nkechi Halvard-Ozoemena, Mammalogist; works on black bear range in the interior Northwest — Interviewed by telephone; supplied her range manuscript in preprint and her citation to the cabinet (July 2026)

## Documents cited (invented)

- PX-2029: https://theyburied.com/vault/PX-2029

## What we could not confirm

- Whether sample 007 was ever what its card said. It cannot be tested. Two examinations from the 1960s describe it in words, no photograph at magnification survives, and words are not a specimen.
- The 1998 result. Mr. Rusk-Ainsley remembers a precipitin band and no cross-reaction against bear serum. The sheet is gone, nobody else saw it, and a 28-year-old memory of a line in a gel is not a result.
- Whether the other ten no-read samples failed for one reason. Sample 007 failed because the envelope was empty; the ten are a different problem. Both laboratories attribute them to degradation and handling, and neither will rule out that some of the ten were never hair to begin with.

## Right of reply

**Delmar Rusk-Ainsley, custodian of the archive 1981–2004** (Replied on 10 May. Printed in full, unedited, at his request and at his length.):

> You have written to ask me why I destroyed the most important specimen in the field. I will answer you, but I want to correct the question first, because the question contains the mistake.
> 
> I did not destroy it. I tested it. Those are not the same act and a newspaper ought to know the difference.
> 
> In 1998 I was fifty-six years old, I taught high-school biology in a town of eleven thousand people, and I had in my freezer an object that thirty-odd papers had argued about for twenty-five years without one of their authors ever asking to see it. Not one. I wrote to four universities over nine years. Two did not reply. One replied that it did not do that kind of work. One asked whether we had funding, and we had eleven hundred dollars and a filing cabinet.
> 
> So I did what an amateur could do. Ouchterlony double diffusion. You cut wells in agar, you put an antigen in one and antisera in the others, and if a white line forms between two wells you have a reaction. It was a real technique. It was in the textbooks. It was what a county coroner used. It required more material than I wanted to give and I gave it, because a sample that no one will test is not evidence, it is a relic, and I did not want to be the keeper of a relic.
> 
> I got a band. It did not react against bear. I typed it up on the school typewriter and I put the sheet in the box with everything else and I intended, that year, to send it somewhere.
> 
> Then my wife got ill, and then the society got old, and then it dissolved, and in 2006 I could not pay the storage rent any longer and I went down there on a Saturday with my son-in-law and we kept the cabinet, because the cabinet was the archive, and we did not keep four boxes of loose paper, because it was loose paper. If you are asking whether I would give a great deal to have that Saturday back, the answer is yes and you may print it.
> 
> Here is my objection to your story. You will write that the technique was superseded in 2002. That is true and it is also hindsight, and hindsight is a very cheap thing to spend on somebody else's 1998. PCR was not sitting on my shelf. It was sitting in a building that would not answer my letters.
> 
> And you will write, because it is the good line, that the sample was destroyed by a man who believed in it. I did believe in it. I still do, about that one hair, and I know exactly what my belief is worth now, which is nothing, because I used up the only thing that could have been worth something.
> 
> But do not print that as a joke about a credulous old man. Print it as what it is. For forty years the people with the machines would not look, and one of the people without a machine got tired of waiting.

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They Buried is a satirical newspaper. Every story, source, document and person in it is invented. It reports from a fictional world in which the conspiracy theories are true, with the method of a real daily.