Jan 8, 2024
Dennis Parada and the FBI: When Your Treasure Hunt Ends with a Gold Star... for the FBI
Let's set the scene: Dennis Parada, co-founder of the treasure-hunting group Finders Keepers, is knee-deep in Pennsylvania dirt, convinced that he's on the brink of finding the holy grail of treasure—the legendary cache of Civil War gold that’s been lost since Abraham Lincoln could rock a top hat without irony. Parada’s group has been searching for this gold with the same level of conviction that a middle-aged man has when he's certain the gas station sushi won’t come back to haunt him.
Dennis and his merry band of modern-day pirates had been sniffing around Dents Run for years, and one fateful day, they thought they struck gold—literally. They just knew it was there, deep under the ground, probably guarded by the restless ghost of a Union soldier who just wanted to keep his stash from a bunch of dudes with metal detectors and overactive imaginations.
But, of course, Dennis and his crew weren't alone in their quest. Enter the FBI, who rolled in like the parents who show up to your wild high school party, ready to confiscate your booze (or, in this case, your gold). The feds descended on Dents Run with equipment that screamed, “We’re here to make sure you don’t get a sniff of this treasure.”
The whole situation was like watching a group of toddlers getting their toys taken away because someone realized that letting them play with actual dynamite was a bad idea. The FBI cordoned off the area, and suddenly, the treasure-hunting enthusiasts were demoted from Indiana Jones to that one guy who’s convinced there’s a leprechaun in his backyard.
Dennis, naturally, wasn't thrilled. He claimed the FBI did the old "Look over there!" trick, swooping in and making off with the gold while he was left holding nothing but a shovel and some broken dreams. The FBI, of course, said that there was no gold, no treasure—just a whole lot of nothing. But hey, who are you going to believe? A guy who’s been chasing ghost stories, or a government agency that's really good at keeping secrets? (Hint: Neither of them.)
Parada’s next move was to go on a quest not unlike Don Quixote tilting at windmills. He’s filed lawsuits, made accusations, and generally behaved like someone who refuses to accept that maybe, just maybe, there was never any gold to begin with. It’s like watching someone insist that Bigfoot stole their car keys while the rest of us just want them to get a cab.
In the end, Dennis Parada’s tale is a classic story of a man versus a system. Or, more accurately, a man versus his own inability to accept that he might have been duped by a myth that was never real. It’s a cautionary tale for treasure hunters everywhere: sometimes, the real treasure is the friends we made along the way. Or in Dennis’s case, the frustration, the legal fees, and a serious distrust of anyone wearing a suit.
So, what’s the moral of this story? If you think you’ve found a hidden stash of gold, don’t call the FBI. Because they might just find it first... or at least tell you that they did, even if there’s nothing there but dirt and disappointment.