Two weeks after beloved Union High coach Travis Turner vanished into the Appalachian wilderness armed with a handgun and ten felony warrants hanging over his head, a bombshell recording has surfaced that flips the entire narrative upside down.

In an exclusive interview that aired late Wednesday night on a regional NBC affiliate, a lifelong friend of Turner’s – who asked to remain anonymous for fear of retaliation – played a 47-second voicemail left on his phone at 9:17 a.m. on November 20, 2025, just hours before Travis disappeared.

The audio is shaky, wind howling in the background, but Travis Turner’s voice is unmistakable:

“Hey man… it’s me. If something happens, you gotta tell them this ain’t what they’re saying. I’m being set up. Somebody put that stuff on my laptop and phone. I swear on my kids I never touched anything like that. They’re coming for me today… I can’t let them take me in front of my family. Tell Leslie and the boys I love them. Tell my dad I’m sorry I let him down. I gotta go off-grid for a little while till I can prove it. Pray for me, brother.”

The call ends with a choked sob and the line going dead.

The Friend’s Heartbreaking Account

The recipient, a 47-year-old contractor who grew up playing pee-wee ball with Travis under Coach Tom Turner, says he was deer hunting with spotty service and didn’t hear the message until late that evening, by then Travis was already gone.

“I played it ten times thinking I misheard,” he told the reporter, voice cracking. “That was Travis scared out of his mind. I’ve known him forty years. He don’t lie. Not about something like this.”

He immediately forwarded the voicemail to family attorney Adrian Collins and turned the original phone over to a private forensic examiner hired by the Turners. Early analysis reportedly shows no signs of digital manipulation, though law enforcement has not yet authenticated it publicly.

Leslie Turner Doubles Down

Leslie Caudill Turner, still wearing her husband’s 2024 regional-championship hoodie in every public appearance, wept openly when she heard the recording for the first time on live television.

“That’s my husband,” she said, clutching her youngest daughter Brynlee. “That’s the man I’ve slept beside for 24 years. He’s telling the truth. Somebody framed him, and instead of letting him fight it in court, they pushed him until he felt he had no way out but those woods.”

She went on to reveal that Travis had been acting paranoid for weeks:

He insisted on driving back roads to avoid being followed.
He wiped his phone multiple times and started using a cheap burner.
Two nights before disappearing, he woke her at 3 a.m. crying, saying, “If anything happens to me, check the old hunting cabin. There’s a flash drive in the coffee can that’ll explain everything.”

Search teams have scoured that family cabin near Coeburn, Virginia, three times. No coffee can. No flash drive.

The “Set-Up” Theory Gains Traction

Defense investigators working quietly for the Turner family claim they’ve uncovered disturbing leads:

A former Union High IT volunteer who was fired in 2023 for “inappropriate use of school computers” had remote-access privileges to staff laptops, including Travis’s, until spring 2025.
That same individual allegedly bragged on a private Discord server about “getting revenge on the golden boy” months before the warrants surfaced.
Metadata on some of the seized images reportedly shows file-creation dates that predate Travis owning the devices in question.

None of this has been confirmed by Virginia State Police, who issued a terse statement Thursday: “All evidence recovered was forensically linked to devices belonging to Mr. Turner. The investigation remains active.”

Meanwhile, Deep in the Mountains

The official search was scaled back December 1 after 11 straight days of rain, fog, and sub-freezing nights turned the forest into a deadly morass. Unofficial efforts continue. Travis’s oldest son Bailey, 25, has spent every weekend since Thanksgiving hiking 15-mile loops with friends, yelling his father’s name until his voice gives out.

On November 30, searchers found a gray hoodie snagged on a briar thicket six miles from the Turner home, DNA pending, but it’s the same brand and size Travis was last seen wearing. No blood. No bullet holes. Just empty sleeves flapping in the wind like a ghost.

The Community Splits in Two

Appalachia and Big Stone Gap are small places; everybody went to school with somebody who played for Travis. Front yards now display two kinds of signs:

“Pray for Coach T – Bring Him Home” and “Justice for the Victims – No Mercy”

At the Bears’ semifinal game this Saturday against Glenvar, the stadium will be packed. Half the crowd plans to wear “Free Travis” shirts. The other half has organized a silent protest with black tape over their mouths.

The Final Question No One Can Answer

If Travis Turner truly believes he was framed, why hasn’t he come in? If he’s innocent, why walk into 400,000 acres of wilderness in November with nothing but a pistol and the clothes on his back?

His father, Hall of Fame coach Tom Turner, now 72 and frail, gave his first public comment yesterday outside the fieldhouse that bears his name:

“I taught that boy everything I know about football… but I never taught him how to quit. If he’s out there breathing, he’s still fighting. My son is not a monster. He’s a man being hunted. And I’ll go to my grave believing that.”

Fourteen days. No body. No arrest. Just a desperate voicemail echoing through the hollers and a town tearing itself apart waiting for the truth.

If you have seen Travis Turner or have information about his whereabouts, authorities urge you to call the U.S. Marshals tip line at 1-877-WANTED2 or Virginia State Police at 804-674-2029. Anonymous tips are protected.

Somewhere out there, a coach who once taught an entire generation how to stand tall may be doing the only thing he has left: running for his life.