The Rest of the Story

I worked in the animal protection field from 1975 through October 1995. 

From 1990-1995 I worked for the Humane Society of the United States. (HSUS)

Then in 1995 after accusations of embezzlement and sexual harassment I left the animal rights movement vilified and a pariah. 

For 5 years, I had traveled the globe for HSUS: Asia, Africa, throughout the Americas, Siberia.  You name the hell-hole, I was there. 

I didn’t and couldn’t have done it on my own.  I was not an economically independent trust-fund activist.  I’m from a dirt-poor, tenant farmer lineage.  Spending weeks and months at a time in a sweltering tropical rain forest or a frozen Arctic tundra costs money just to survive.  Getting there by air, train, dugout canoe or by whatever means costs even more money.  

Further, no bureaucracy, not Congress, the National Rifle Association, nor HSUS gives carte blanche to staff at any level to crisscross the planet without fiscal oversight and accountability.  HSUS President John Hoyt and HSUS Treasurer and V-P Paul Irwin sanctioned every penny I spent on every program and project I undertook while at HSUS.  They dictated how much of my proposed budget, I was allowed; how I was to get the funds; and the way I was to account for every expenditure. 

I was tasked to deal with the underworld of animal exploitation.  My contacts did not sing in church choirs or teach Sunday school.  Some were gangsters.  Some were common thieves.  Turning receipts for drinks and tips at sleazy bars or for bribes to bottom-feeding bureaucrats are frowned upon by Financial Committees populated by society’s elite animal welfare donors, more than a few of whom were real “church ladies.”  Hoyt and Irwin knew that and directed me to submit more socially acceptable dummy expense reports.  Every dollar withdrawn from HSUS coffers and run through my personal accounts, every expense recorded on my personal credit cards, and every fudged receipt associated with a covert investigation was recognized and approved by by Hoyt and Irwin. 

If you follow the money trail, HSUS at Irwin's instruction did fund raising piece after fund raising piece based on my exploits.  Books were written; films made.  I was feted for my exploits at HSUS conventions and, after every investigation, I was the face and voice of HSUS before the media.  Quite a track record for having done “nothing” with the money I spent while at HSUS.  My work in Alaska with the late Susan Butcher to improve the health and safety of the sled dogs even drew Irwin out from behind his desk at HSUS headquarters to see the Iditarod for himself.  In that instance he saw my work in the field firsthand. Funny, he never seemed to be available when I was wallowing ankle deep in hog and cow blood and guts in Mexican slaughterhouses, or trekking through razor-sharp saw grass in pursuit of ivory and rhino horn poachers.

Where that money trail will not lead is to any personal economic gain for me.  I was not the HSUS official with a string of luxury cars or portfolio of expensive real estate holdings.   I worked for the animals pure and simple.   End of story.

For the past almost 16 years I have had to read inaccurate Internet accounts of my fall from grace and endure countless retelling of my lack of honesty and lack of morality. I maintain I was not guilty of the things of which I was accused.

In the past two years during a very difficult business partnership the HSUS account of my demise once again was raised to try and undermine my position within that partnership. I decided it was finally time to tell my side of the story.

Henry Ford II was once supposed to have said, "Never complain, never explain".  He said, "your friends  don't believe what they are saying about you and your enemies don't believe a word of what you are saying". I suspect he may have been correct but my story is now on paper with pictures and other documentation that I feel make my case. The cover is below. I hope to have it out next month. I will let you know. 

Like celebrated radio commentator Paul Harvey, at least if anyone gives a damn they can now read the "rest of the story". 

(FYI-My book on growing up with my Uncle Joe is now available on Amazon. It is entitled "Talk to My A**, My Head Hurts", by David K. Wills)