Tourists Thought They Found Fossils on Island, but Investigators Say They Might Be Centuries-Old Human Remains
The location of the remains is historically noteworthy, authorities said, as it was once a 19th-century settlement known as Edingsville Beach
Authorities are working to determine the identity of the remains and the cause of death
Authorities said that tourists visiting a South Carolina island came across centuries-old human skeletal remains.
The Colleton County Sheriff's Office said in a press release that it responded to a report about the remains found on Edisto Island on Friday, May 23.
The sheriff's office said deputies were sent to the Jeremy Cay community near Legare Road, a beachfront property, after the tourists discovered what they initially thought were fossils while exploring the area.
'Upon closer examination, they realized the remains appeared to be human and promptly contacted the Colleton County Sheriff's Office and the Edisto Police Department,' the department said.
Authorities closed off the area and conducted a preliminary investigation, according to the sheriff's office. The location of the remains is historically noteworthy, authorities noted, as it was once a 19th-century settlement known as Edingsville Beach.
'Early indications suggest the remains may originate from a long forgotten burial site,' said the sheriff's office.
The remains were recovered with the assistance of the Colleton County Coroner's Office and taken to the Medical University of South Carolina for forensic examination and analysis.
The identity of the remains and the circumstances behind their death are currently unknown, stated the sheriff's office, adding the investigation is active.
In an interview with Newsweek on Sunday, May 25, Colleton County Coroner Richard Harvey said the remains consist of a skull and separated bones. Harvey further added that they could be from the Revolutionary War or Civil War, and that his office plans to identify the bones and determine how old they are.
According to Edisto Island's website, Edingsville Beach was once a popular vacation spot, particularly for the elite, during the first half of the 19th century. In 1825, it was made up of 60 tabby and brick houses with verandas facing the ocean. The community also had several churches, boathouses, a schoolhouse and a billiard saloon.
Over time, Edingsville Beach faded due to continued beach erosion and the impact of the Civil War. In 1885, a hurricane hit the island, and all that was left were a few houses. Towards the end of the century, the island was all but abandoned.
The website also noted that in 2015, a tourist from Pennsylvania visiting the north end of Edisto Island spotted a bone sticking out of the mud and collected several of them before they got washed away by the high tide. Shortly after, a former Edisto Beach State Park ranger found several teeth attached to a skull while on vacation.
Paleontologists later determined that both sets of remains — one of them a cow skeleton — dated back to 1865 and 1870.
PEOPLE contacted the Colleton County Coroner's Office and the Colleton County Sheriff's Office for additional information on Tuesday, May 27.
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Alliance-area news in brief for Aug. 19
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Many in the legal system embraced tough-love rehab programs, especially judges looking for alternatives to jail. One of Cenikor's biggest champions was Judge Larry Gist, who ran one of the first drug courts, in Jefferson County, Texas, in the 1990s. 'The vast majority of folks that I deal with are basically bottom-feeders,' Gist told the author. 'They've been losers since the day they were born.' Cenikor's extreme model was ideal for 'the right people,' he believed. Cenikor rewarded such loyalty, giving judges and lawmakers steak dinners served by participants and annual awards banquets, complete with gleaming, diamond-shaped trophies. Gist 'proudly displayed his' in 'his chambers, where he liked to host his happy hours with prosecutors and defense attorneys.' Koon was booted out of Cenikor after just two years, for faking a urine sample and contracting a contagious staph infection, but managed to stay sober on his own. He proposed to his childhood sweetheart, Paige, moving in with her two daughters, and finding the stability he'd been chasing for years. He went back to school to learn welding, and the daily rhythms of family life kept him grounded. 'He hasn't taken a drug recreationally for eight years,' Walter writes. Lee's path out took longer, and her recovery was, as Walter writes, 'in some ways a stroke of luck.' She left the house after landing a job at a law firm that helped women reunite with their children in foster care — a world away from the nights she'd once spent tricking at the Blue Moon Hotel but one that barely covered her bills and pushed her just over the poverty line, cutting off assistance. She earned her GED, took online college courses, regained custody of her kids and bought her own home by 2021. 'And yet many days she felt she was teetering on the edge, one crisis or unpaid bill away from making a terrible mistake,' Walter writes. That year, she returned to Kensington, where her addiction had once thrived, bringing fresh food and water to people still living on the streets. As for Cenikor, its time in the shadows ended, at least temporarily. Investigators found evidence of exploitation: residents forced to work without pay, unsafe housing conditions, staff-client relationships, even overdoses inside the facilities. The state of Texas fined Cenikor more than $1.4 million in 2019, but the agency struck a settlement, and it continued to operate. Koon and Lee don't represent everyone who's experienced addiction, treatment or recovery. But they do reflect a system that often promises far more than it delivers. 'When rehab works, it can save lives,' Walter writes. 'It can mend families and be among the most redemptive narrative arcs in a person's life.' But sometimes, rehab not only fails to help people, it actively harms them, recycling them through a gauntlet of relapse, shame and risk: 'Despite the rehab industry's many claims, there is no magical cure for addiction.'
