Ryan Killackey, who died on October 4th, aged 46, was a man of singular purpose. Born in Homewood, Illinois, he came of age with a fascination for nature that would eventually drive him to the farthest reaches of the Amazon rainforest. But his was no simple journey of exploration or adventure; it was a pursuit defined by hardship, loss, and a fierce dedication to preserving the natural world and its people.
His early path took him to the University of Montana, where he trained as a terrestrial wildlife biologist. Yet, it was not the frozen lakes or rugged terrains of North America that captured his soul, but the dense, pulsating forests of the Amazon. It was there, in the verdant heart of Yasuni National Park, that his life found its true direction. This was a place where nature’s abundance defied comprehension: a single hectare of the park held more species of trees than the entire continental United States. Yet this sanctuary was threatened, not by nature’s hand, but by the insatiable thirst for oil buried deep below.
When Ryan arrived in Ecuador in 2005, he went not only as a biologist but also as an artist, with a camera slung over his shoulder and a desire to chronicle the fragility of what he encountered. His work soon became more than a job; it grew into a mission to document the collision between the ancient world of the Waorani—Indigenous inhabitants of Yasuni—and the modern demands for petroleum. The result was a seven-year labor of love and perseverance: his documentary, Yasuni Man.
The film brought into sharp focus the struggle of a people and a forest, capturing the spirit and the anguish of a community besieged by industry. It was a cry for recognition of humanity’s deep connection to the land, a plea for the world to weigh the true cost of its dependence on fossil fuels. Yet, even as his work traveled the globe, collecting accolades, Ryan remained acutely aware of its limits. A documentary could stir the conscience, but it could not stop the drills. The oil kept flowing.
In 2023, however, the film’s impact helped sway the tide. Ecuadorians voted to end oil drilling in Yasuni—a victory that, though small and bittersweet for Ryan, who was by then weakened by illness, brought some solace.
Ryan’s dream was to produce a sequel to Yasuni Man—to return after 12 years and witness what had changed. He wanted to capture not just the scars left behind but the healing, if there was to be any. Though he did not live to fulfill that dream, he made a final wish: that the footage and photos he left behind should live on beyond him, serving as both testament and tool for conservation efforts in the future.
His life’s work serves as a reminder that even when faced with overwhelming odds, there is value in bearing witness. For Ryan, the rainforest was not simply a subject for his lens; it was a living entity, breathing, enduring, and longing to be seen.
In the years to come, as Yasuni’s fate continues to unfold, one can only hope that his vision will guide others to preserve what remains. There is a kind of hope that emerges in the wake of despair, a belief that the seeds of change planted by those who came before can take root, grow, and, against all odds, flourish. Ryan planted many such seeds. Now, it is for the world to nurture them.
