Talk about a self-inflicted downfall. A Virginia hunter, Jason Walters, is facing some serious consequences after illegally killing the “Hollywood Buck,” a well-known deer that had become a beloved figure at the historic Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond.
Walters, along with another hunter, Alan Proffitt, thought they could brag about their illegal catch, but it turns out that boasting on social media isn’t the best strategy when you’ve broken the law.
Walters, who pleaded guilty to 20 misdemeanors, is set to serve four months in jail and will face over $13,000 in fines and restitution. To add to that, he’s lost his hunting license for the next 25 years, with another 75 years suspended—meaning that if he steps out of line again, that suspension could easily become permanent.
His partner in crime, Proffitt, is also facing penalties, albeit lighter, with a $250 fine, a five-month suspended jail sentence, and a six-year hunting license revocation.
The story blew up after Walters posted about his so-called “accomplishment” on a popular Facebook page, Star City Whitetails, where Virginia hunters share their catches. Walters proudly uploaded a photo of the 29-point buck, captioning it with the boast of bagging the “biggest buck of my LIFE.”
But the internet is a small world, and it wasn’t long before wildlife enthusiasts recognized the deer as the famous “Hollywood Buck.” The distinctive antlers gave it away, and soon enough, the Virginia Department of Wildlife Resources was on the case.
Wildlife photographer photos, social media sleuths, and the sharp eyes of local hunters helped identify the buck, leading to Walters’ downfall.
The irony? Walters exposed himself by posting his illegal kill on a public forum, completely unaware that he was handing law enforcement all the evidence they needed to track him down.
The Hollywood Buck had been a peaceful resident of the cemetery for years, admired by locals for its massive antlers and quiet presence. Living in an area where hunting is strictly prohibited, the deer was able to grow to a legendary size—until Walters and Proffitt decided to take matters into their own hands.
