In 1980 a Park Ranger Vanished — 30 Years Later, He Was Found Inside a Watchtower

The Tongass National Forest in Alaska is a realm of wild beauty and silent danger. Spanning 68,000 square kilometers—America’s largest national forest—its endless coniferous woods, steep mountains, and constant rain make it a place where secrets can be buried for decades.

In August 1980, Ranger Robert Ames set out on a routine patrol in one of the forest’s most remote corners. He never returned. For thirty years, his disappearance haunted the park service, his family, and the small community of Ketchikan. Nobody guessed that the answer to the mystery was hidden in plain sight—inside the very structure meant to keep watch over the forest.

The Vanishing

Robert Ames, 39, was a Vietnam veteran who had come to Alaska searching for peace and purpose. He was known as a reliable ranger—calm, methodical, and deeply familiar with the wild terrain he patrolled. His job took him to the Misty Fjords, an area so rugged it could only be reached by foot or helicopter.

That summer, a new fire observation tower was being built on Ames’s patrol route. The contractor, Martin Glover—a gruff Canadian engineer—clashed with Ames over environmental violations and illegal logging. Tensions escalated when Ames filed a formal complaint, accusing Glover’s company of overstating material use, cutting trees outside permitted zones, and selling timber illegally.

On August 9th, Ames was last seen at the construction site, calmly taking notes while Glover gestured angrily. The next day, Ames vanished.

The Search

When Ames failed to check in, a helicopter was dispatched. Rangers found his cabin undisturbed, his radio charged, and his backpack hanging by the door. His revolver and notebook were missing. Footprints led toward the construction site but disappeared on rocky ground. Despite intensive searches with dogs and helicopters, no trace of Ames was found. The official theory: accident, animal attack, or getting lost in the fog.

But Ames’s wife insisted her husband was too experienced to make fatal mistakes. She pressed for an investigation into Glover and the construction crew, but there was no evidence, no witnesses, and no leads. The tower was finished, Glover left Alaska, and the case faded into the background—another unsolved disappearance in the wilds of Alaska.

The Discovery

Thirty years later, in 2010, the park service decided to renovate the aging tower. As workers drilled into the concrete foundation, their equipment jammed. Breaking through, they discovered a sealed wooden box embedded in the concrete—a construction anomaly that made no sense.

Inside the box, wrapped in a park service tarpaulin, were human remains in a fetal position, protected from decay by the concrete. Alongside the bones were a ranger’s belt, boots, an empty holster, a notebook, and an ID tag: Robert Ames.

Forensic analysis confirmed the remains were Ames’s. A bullet wound in the back of the skull matched a .38 caliber revolver—the standard ranger sidearm in 1980. DNA matched Ames’s ex-wife. The case was reopened as a homicide.

The Investigation

Detective Thomas Marlo of the Alaska State Police dug into the decades-old files. He discovered the tower’s foundation had been poured on August 10th, the day Ames vanished. Workers recalled Glover spending an hour alone near the central formwork that morning, claiming to check reinforcement. That was where the box was found.

Ames’s notebook, miraculously preserved, revealed a chilling entry: Glover had threatened him about the complaint, saying “see you tomorrow morning at the site. We need to have a serious talk.”

Marlo traced Glover to British Columbia, where the retired engineer denied everything. But financial records showed Glover had received a suspicious $28,000 cash deposit after leaving Alaska—likely proceeds from illegal timber sales. Faced with mounting evidence, Glover finally confessed.

He admitted to killing Ames during a confrontation in the fog, panicking when Ames refused to drop his complaint. He hid the body in a toolbox, wrapped it in tarp, and embedded it in the concrete foundation before the workers arrived. He disposed of Ames’s revolver and camera, confident the body would never be found.

Justice, Too Late

Glover was extradited to Alaska and tried for first-degree murder. Despite his age and frail health, the court found him guilty. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Ames’s ex-wife attended the sentencing, saying she had waited 30 years for answers and justice.

The park service buried Ames’s remains in Ketchikan and installed a memorial plaque on the new tower, now known as Ames Tower. Protocols were changed: rangers must check in every 12 hours, and construction projects require constant ranger presence.

Legacy

The story resonated nationwide, prompting reviews of other cold cases involving missing rangers. It became a cautionary tale about the dangers of remote work, the importance of persistence, and the fact that even the best-hidden secrets can be uncovered by chance—a stuck drill, a determined detective, a community that never forgot.

The forest keeps many secrets. Some are lost forever. But at Ames Tower, rangers pause in silence, remembering a colleague who gave his life protecting the wilderness—and whose story reminds us that justice, though delayed, can still prevail.

How many more stories like this remain hidden in the wild? How many secrets lie beneath concrete, in mines, or deep in the woods—waiting for a moment of chance to bring truth to light?