Charla Nash never expected her life would change forever just because she agreed to help a friend. She wasn’t a celebrity, nor did she ever seek fame. She was simply a kind, dependable woman who showed up when someone needed her. But on one February day in 2009, a single act of compassion would thrust her into the spotlight and leave the nation shocked by the horror that followed.
It all began with a frantic phone call. Sandra Herold, Charla’s longtime friend, was in a panic. Her beloved chimpanzee, Travis, had taken her car keys and wandered off. Sandra begged Charla to come help get him back into the house. Charla, always loyal and ready to help, rushed to Sandra’s home in Stamford, Connecticut. She had no way of knowing she was walking into one of the most brutal animal attacks in U.S. history.
As Charla approached the 200-pound chimpanzee, he suddenly turned violent. Something about her appearance — the Elmo doll she held, once one of Travis’s favorite toys, or perhaps her unfamiliar hairstyle and vehicle — triggered a ferocious response. In an instant, the situation turned tragic.
The attack was vicious. Travis ripped off Charla’s hands, tore into her face, and left her body nearly unrecognizable. Sandra did everything she could to stop the attack, even hitting Travis with a shovel and stabbing him with a kitchen knife. She would later describe the horrifying moment when Travis turned and looked at her with confusion and pain, as if asking, “Why are you hurting me?”
When Sandra finally managed to get away long enough to call 911, the dispatcher initially thought it was a prank. But when Sandra screamed, “He’s eating her!” the operator realized this was a real emergency.
By the time emergency responders arrived, they found Charla face down in the driveway. Her injuries were so severe, paramedics were ordered to wait until police secured the scene. Officer Frank Chiafari and his partner pulled up and were quickly confronted by the enraged chimp. Travis charged their vehicle, tore off the side mirror, and tried to rip open the door. Chiafari described it as something out of a movie like Jurassic Park. Fearing for their lives, Chiafari opened fire. Travis retreated into the house, where he collapsed and later died.
Travis wasn’t just a wild animal; he had been raised like a child. Born in Missouri in 1995, he was taken from his mother just days after birth and sold to Sandra and her husband. They treated him like family. He dined at the table, brushed his teeth, and even drank wine. Travis was something of a local celebrity, appearing in TV commercials and helping with chores. Sandra, who had lost her daughter and later her husband, saw Travis as her surrogate son.
But despite his human-like behaviors, Travis was still a chimpanzee. Experts say a grown chimp has five times the upper-body strength of a human. Even a trained and well-loved animal like Travis was capable of unpredictable violence.
Charla, who had previously worked at Sandra’s towing company and was no stranger to Travis, likely appeared unfamiliar to him that day. She had a new hairstyle, was driving a different car, and may have startled him unintentionally. It was also revealed that Travis had Lyme disease, which has been linked in rare cases to abnormal behavior in animals.
Charla was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Doctors placed her in a medically induced coma. Over the course of just 72 hours, she endured over seven hours of surgery performed by four separate surgical teams. Her injuries were nearly beyond comprehension — she had lost her eyelids, lips, nose, and mid-facial bone structure. Nine of her fingers were gone. Doctors found chimpanzee hair and even teeth embedded in her shattered facial bones.
The trauma of treating her was so profound that many hospital staff members sought grief counseling. Tragically, Charla lost her sight completely due to infections in both eyes. She was later transferred to the Cleveland Clinic and became a candidate for a face transplant. Her family established a trust to help cover her extensive medical expenses and provide for her young daughter.
In November 2009, Charla bravely appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show, revealing her face to the world for the first time. Despite everything, she told Oprah she didn’t want to dwell on the memories. “I want to get healthy. I don’t want to wake up with nightmares,” she said.
Then in 2011, in a groundbreaking 20-hour operation at Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, Charla received a full face transplant. The transformation stunned the world. The woman once described as “unrecognizable” had become a living miracle. Her courage became a symbol of resilience. “If I couldn’t do something, I just took a breath and tried again,” Charla said.
She didn’t fade from view. Instead, she used her voice to advocate for change. Charla began speaking out about the dangers of keeping exotic animals as pets. Her appearances weren’t for fame but to prevent similar tragedies. “These animals are dangerous,” she warned. “They should not be in people’s homes.”
Animal experts backed her message. Colleen McCann, a primatologist at the Bronx Zoo, explained that even well-raised chimpanzees are wild animals and inherently dangerous. “This is tragic, but it’s not surprising,” she said.
Charla fought for accountability. She sued the state of Connecticut for $150 million, alleging officials had ignored prior warnings about Travis. In 2003, he had escaped and roamed freely, causing chaos, but no action was taken. Although the state denied her claim, her case brought national attention to the risks of exotic pet ownership.
Her legal team also sued Sandra Herold’s estate, and in 2012, Charla reached a $4 million settlement. Sandra had died the year before from a ruptured aortic aneurysm. Her lawyer said the emotional toll of losing her daughter, husband, Travis, and watching her friend suffer had devastated her.
The aftermath of the attack also led to legislative efforts like the Captive Primate Safety Act, which aimed to ban the interstate trade of primates. Though it faced setbacks, it was reintroduced in 2024, a testament to Charla’s lasting impact.
Even Officer Chiafari, who had to shoot Travis, struggled deeply afterward. He developed depression and anxiety but couldn’t access mental health support due to existing policies. His experience helped spark proposed legislation to ensure emotional support for officers involved in traumatic incidents.
This tragedy should never have happened, yet it did. But through unimaginable suffering, Charla Nash emerged as a voice of strength and purpose. Her story reminds us of the dangers of keeping wild animals as pets — and the incredible resilience of the human spirit.