What investigators found
Sixteen animals were found dead on a Wasilla property this summer, most of them left to rot in a garage for months. The discovery has now led to six criminal charges against a 42-year-old man identified by authorities as Kevin Neher — three felonies for inflicting pain on animals and three misdemeanors for failing to provide care.
The case began on June 27, 2025, when Matanuska-Susitna Borough Animal Care and Control responded to a report of alleged neglect near Mile 14 of Knik Goose Bay Road. Given the severity of what they encountered, officers called in Alaska State Troopers. What troopers documented inside the home’s garage was grim: animals in various stages of decay, the smell of rot, and signs that the deaths stretched back more than six months.
Troopers say the dead included nine rabbits, six goats, and one large dog. Thirteen of the carcasses were in the garage. Three goats were found in an outdoor pen. The differences in decomposition suggested the deaths happened over time, not all at once.
Authorities also removed living animals from the property: two large-breed dogs described as severely underweight and a cat that appeared healthy. Those animals were seized with Neher’s consent. Troopers spokesman Tim DeSpain said the condition of the remains indicated prolonged neglect.
Neher was arrested and booked on six counts tied to cruelty and neglect. He appeared in Palmer court on Friday morning and was released on $2,500 bail. The judge barred him from owning, keeping, or controlling animals while the case moves forward.
This is the kind of case that sticks with first responders. Animal control officers deal with tough scenes, but spending months in a garage is a level of neglect that’s hard to ignore. Investigators will now work through vet exams, necropsy findings where available, and witness interviews to build a timeline: when these animals last received food, water, or shelter; how long they were left without care; and whether anyone tried to intervene earlier.
Charges, penalties, and community response
Felony animal cruelty charges in Alaska typically apply when there’s intentional or extreme neglect that causes serious pain, suffering, or death. The misdemeanor counts usually cover failures to provide basic needs like food, water, shelter, or urgent veterinary care. Penalties can include jail or prison time, fines, restitution, and long-term bans on owning animals. Judges can also order counseling and monitoring.
In practical terms, the court will look at several factors: the number of animals involved, the length of neglect, whether there were prior warnings, and the condition of the surviving animals. The three felony counts suggest prosecutors believe the suffering reached a level beyond simple neglect. The misdemeanor counts speak to day-to-day failures: not feeding, not watering, not treating illness or injury.
Cases like this don’t happen in a vacuum. In fast-growing parts of the Mat-Su, animal control officers cover large areas with limited staff. They rely on neighbors to speak up when something seems off — a constant smell, animals crying, stacked cages, or a property that looks abandoned. A single call can lead to a welfare check, which often prevents a situation from getting worse.
There’s also a common pattern behind severe neglect: too many animals, not enough resources, and a person who either can’t or won’t ask for help. Veterinarians and rescue workers see it all the time. Food prices go up, a job disappears, a fence breaks, a storm knocks out power, and the care slips. That doesn’t excuse the suffering, but it explains how small failures turn into a crime scene.
For investigators, the evidence is physical and specific. They’ll document body condition scores, stomach contents, water access, ambient temperatures in the garage, and whether there were signs of confinement or injury. They’ll look for feed sacks, water bowls, and medications. They may send tissue samples for testing to determine starvation, dehydration, or disease. Each detail helps distinguish neglect from unavoidable loss.
The surviving animals seized from the property — two underweight dogs and one healthy cat — will be important to the case. Their weight, lab results, and behavior can show how long they were without adequate food or care. If a judge allows, those animals may be rehomed after the legal process or placed with foster caregivers under supervision.
In court, the defense could challenge the timeline, argue that harsh weather or illness played a role, or claim efforts were made to care for the animals. But the sheer number of dead animals and the months-long decomposition window will be hard to explain away.
For residents wondering what to do if they suspect neglect: document what you see, note dates and times, and contact local animal control or Alaska State Troopers. Don’t confront someone alone on their property. A welfare check is a standard tool and can lead to voluntary surrender, citations, or — in severe cases — criminal charges.
This case has already triggered one immediate protection: a court order barring Neher from having animals while charges are pending. If he’s convicted, that ban could last much longer. Courts often order long-term prohibitions, especially when multiple animals suffered or died.
People who work in shelters and clinics will tell you the fix starts long before court. It’s basic husbandry: steady food and clean water, dry shelter, vet care when animals are sick or injured, and a simple rule — if you’re overwhelmed, ask for help early. That call matters. In the Mat-Su, it can be the difference between a welfare check and a warehouse of silence.
For now, prosecutors have a stack of evidence and a painful set of facts. Sixteen animals died. Two dogs survived in poor condition. A cat made it through. The legal process will decide whether the facts amount to felony cruelty and how much accountability follows. What’s clear is this: the signs of suffering were there for months, and the system only saw them after someone spoke up.
As this case moves through court, it will likely prompt fresh conversations about reporting, enforcement, and resources. It should also sharpen a simple community habit: keep an eye out for the quiet signs of distress — the ones behind closed garage doors. That vigilance is often the only thing standing between an avoidable death and a living animal with a second chance. And yes, it starts with naming the problem for what it is: Wasilla animal cruelty.
