Meet Splash the Otter, Trained to Find Human Remains Underwater

Federal and local law enforcement agencies have their eyes on a new strategy for search and recovery operations that could make it easier for divers to find the bodies of drowned or murdered victims underwater. And it’s cuddly.

That new strategy relies on Splash, a 2-and-a-half-year-old Asian small-clawed otter trained to hunt for human remains with the Peace River K9 Search and Rescue Association (PRSAR) in Sarasota County, Fla.

Michael Hadsell, the association’s president with decades of experience in forensic dives, began training otters in 2020, inspired by his childhood experience of seeing South Asian fishermen train otters to harvest fish and mollusks. He believed it would resolve his problem of searching low-visibility waters, when he can’t see his hand in front of his face, much less human remains.

It’s the same problem that has plagued search-and-recovery efforts in the United States for years, requiring specialized equipment and professional divers to traverse muddy waters, shipwrecks and other dangerous conditions in search of victims’ remains. Some don’t turn up until a season of drought when the water recedes.

If recovery teams used any animals at all, the focus was largely on dogs and horses, limiting their use to the shore. 

And if local law enforcement doesn’t have the means themselves to take on the work, they’ll turn to volunteers, spread out across the country across hundreds of organizations, like PRSAR, with an array of strategies and skill sets.

The decentralized nature of search and recovery means the players involved are receptive to new technologies and strategies, and part of the reason why law enforcement, including the FBI, are keen to see how Hadsell refines his approach to otter training.

North America’s top veterinary organization, the American Animal Hospital Association, has also publicly supported his work, acknowledging Hadsell’s efforts to keep Splash happy and healthy, though Hadsell says his early days of otter training in 2020 attracted threats from animal rights groups. That experience left him eager to keep Splash out of the news.

However, Splash quickly became a sensation in 2025 as the country’s only search-and-recovery otter. Hadsell hopes he won’t be the last. The 66-year-old retired forensic diver has devoted his time to otter training in hopes of providing a prototype for future otter-based recovery teams. The team is now in the height of the season for recovery requests, and Splash’s next dive will be in Iowa, beginning a six-week tour across multiple states and bodies of water.

“I do think the otters have the capability to do this work,” Hadsell tells A&E Crime + Investigation. “They have the aptitude.”

Scent training was the easiest part, Hadsell adds, which allows Splash to sniff out remains in low-visibility water and show divers where to reach them. Less simple was conditioning Splash to the environment of search and recovery, which can include horses, dogs, helicopters and police sirens.

As an Asian small-clawed otter, the smallest otter species, Splash is social and easy to work with compared to the American river otters Hadsell started with. Many died from COVID-19 during the height of the pandemic, while Splash is a more recent adoptee.

But his size means he is also prone to being washed away by the current. For that reason, Hadsell is now training an American river otter (a larger variety of the animal) and expects to deploy him next year.

Hadsell has also lost otters to Hurricane Ian, and with the potential for toxic chemicals and wild animals like alligators and snapping turtles in the waters they search, he has been careful not to expose Splash to disease or predators. Additionally, Hadsell has “otter spotters” that make sure Splash doesn’t run into traffic. 

Hadsell says trust was the most important part of the work and that it’s built by attending to the otters’ needs.

“The relationship's everything when you're training wild animals,” he says. “That's the lifeblood that makes everything work.”

Hadsell is adamant that Splash is not a pet, but a tool he uses for his recovery dives, and that he does not “have an emotional attachment that a lot of people do.”

Splash might be too cute for that to stay true for long. When he’s not working, he lives with Hadsell, his wife and their two dogs, which are also trained in search and recovery. They feed Splash lots of salmon, and at night, Hadsell lets Splash sneak into bed with him.

“I’m his dad,” he says. “He won me over, I have to say.”

Otters, which require a permit to own in 18 states, including Florida, aren’t likely to become household pets anytime soon. They don’t have the thousands of years of domestication that dogs and cats have gone through. The species still has a wild instinct, which has sometimes hampered searches with Hadsell.

He says that in recent weeks, Splash has rejected the harness he wears during dives and doesn’t always return when called. Hadsell calls those issues “bad habits” Splash will need to shake off.

“He's a living, thinking, breathing creature,” he says. “He can decide he doesn't want to play today."