Satanic Panic in Colorado

From blood libel covered by Josephus to witch-hunting to QAnon, people have long accused their perceived enemies as insatiable drinkers of baby blood. One of the finest examples of this was the Satanic Panic of the 1980s and 1990s. Many of us who grew up in that period were taught to fear group role-playing games, the screaming guitar licks of Angus Young, and Ouija Boards. Colorado was not exempt from this mad experiment in baseless fear-mongering.

As Chris Root mentioned in a previous article on livestock mutilation, a shift began to happen in the 1970s where our collective paranoia regarding alien visitors was gradually replaced by the suspicion that legions of murderous Satanic cults bent on mutilating livestock and corrupting youth were living among us. In 1973, a group of strict Greek Orthodox parents in Arvada hired a “deprogrammer” from California named Ted Patrick to end their adult daughters’ involvement with Satanism. By all accounts, the women in their early twenties had simply left home and moved in together. They rejected the conservative religious adherence demanded by their parents, but were gainfully employed and showed no signs of being brainwashed by Satanists, vampires, or aliens. In a bit of a Cold War twist, Ted Patrick also believed that communists were behind many of the cults he claimed to rescue people from. 

In the summer of 1975, a new rash of cattle mutilations was reported in and around Elbert County, Colorado. Blood was not drained from the animals and there were no human tracks in the area. Some speculated that culprits had used a helicopter to accomplish their impromptu field surgeries. According to the July 15, 1975 edition of the Denver Post, sheriff’s officers suggested that body parts were cut out with sharp instruments by “devil-worshipers” to be used in their “weird rites.” Enter Denver-based evangelist Michael Warnke.

Sanctuary Inc.’s “signs of deviant Pagan and Satanic Practices” appeared in publications all around the state. The typical profile included things like teens being intelligent, creative, curious, and alienated from the family’s religion. Their signs of active involvement listed interests such as role-playing games, incense use, candles, and heavy metal music. Based on this type of overbroad criteria, it would be difficult not to define all teenagers as aspiring cultists. Such sweeping warnings obviously had a positive impact on the bottom lines of self-described deprogrammers and teen treatment facilities. 

A much darker aspect of this growing mass delusion was the increasing acceptance of recovered memories of childhood abuse through practices like hypnosis. The 1980 book, Michelle Remembers, recounts a woman’s claims that she was part of a massive Canadian cult beginning in childhood. Michelle Smith and her psychiatrist and soon-to-be husband Lawrence Pazder toured the U.S. and Canada, profited off the books, and flirted with movie deals. Even ten years later, Michelle appeared as a high-profile guest on The Oprah Winfrey Show. A few years later, Smith’s claims were systematically and thoroughly debunked. Sadly, such lies had consequences for many other innocent people. 

In late October 1988, just in time for Halloween, police sergeant Monte Landers assembled 200 parents at Aurora Hills Middle School to announce that Satanism was everywhere.

“It's in our government. It's in our schools...The person sitting next to you in church may be a Satanist.” Rocky Mountain News, October 27, 1988

He invoked the usual culprits of rock music and Dungeons and Dragons (known as “D&D”). Down the road at Smoky Hill, officials were working to identify and counsel potential Satanists. The event that brought this about? Someone was found with a live kitten in their locker. Said kitten had a mohawk haircut and pentagram earrings. 

As the 1980s came to a close, momentum only continued to build. Jim McCarthy continued to attend seminars about the evils of D&D and heavy metal music. He had now become the head of Bethesda PsychHealth, which claimed to be the only hospital in the country devoted to treating ritual abuse in families. In 1989, notorious shock jock/preacher/exorcist Bob Larson was starting his radio show in Denver and brought together 450 people to watch him interview and debate former and current Satanists. Like any good con artist, attendance was contingent on a small entrance fee of $95. That is not to say that the entertainment would disappoint. Larson had the usual coterie of performers willing to make a buck by recounting all the human sacrifices they witnessed over decades with the Satanic underground. In 2014, Larson was still raking it in by performing exorcisms over Skype for $295.