6: Seeing is Believing
I ran into Brett Spearman at Jonesy’s on Thursday night—a U.S. Army veteran, Special Ops, with a couple of tours in Afghanistan and Iraq in the mid-2000s. He wore a camo Carhartt cap over his curly, dirty-blond hair hanging over his ears. He had fully tattooed arm sleeves, and judging by the size of his biceps and beer gut, I suspected he was surviving on a diet of creatine powder and lager. Jennifer absolutely hated the guy, but he had become one of my best drinking buddies over the past year, and he was into hunting and wildlife photography, which meant he owned cameras and night vision goggles.
“Any interest in helping me with a UFO debunking surveillance mission this weekend?” I asked.
He swiveled toward me. “Sounds like fun, tell me more,” he said, shoveling beer nuts into his mouth.
I told him about my story and the suspected hoax. I made it clear that all I needed was some help with filming, but I also thought he’d be good to have around for other reasons. I wasn’t sure whom I might run into out there in the darkness in the Valley of the Moon.
Brett belched loudly. “Count me in.”
Our plan went like this: Friday night, we’d take my car to Missoula and tag team driving duties. I’d get us a motel room and pay for all expenses, including beer. I’d drop him off Saturdey morning to scout the north side of the valley while I attended Byrne’s lecture at the Proxima Foundation ranch property. Brett would hang out and call me mid-afternoon. I’d pretend the call was from Jennifer, calling me home because of a family emergency, and skip out of the viewing event, then rendezvous with Brett back at the motel room. We’d wait for dark and then go to the north side of the Valley. I wasn’t going to let him gather the evidence for my story without me as a witness. I was also thinking that if we were successful at filming the hoax, then I would need to disclose my findings to Daniel before I ran the story—basic journalism courtesy, plus his reaction would make great copy.
We arrived in Missoula late Friday. I got us a room at the Motel 6 where I’d stayed before. We went over to Ramblin’ Joe’s for some dinner and beers. It was busy. Brenda was our server.
“Hey,” she said, handing us our menus, sadness was still in her eyes.
I introduced her to Brett and told her about our plan for the evening.
“Be careful over there,” she said.
I nodded. We ordered beers and food. Brett leaned sideways and rubber-necked Brenda’s ass while she walked away. “Damn, dude, she’s hot.” He looked at me and smiled. “You were blushing. You like her, you dog.”
I was probably blushing again. “No, I wasn’t, and don’t be a dick. She just buried her aunt this week. She was murdered, pretty close to where we’re going tonight. She was hacked up pretty bad, mutilated, organs removed, burn marks on her, too. I’ve been trying to get information on the case.”
“No shit? So they haven’t caught the fucker who did it?”
“No, not yet. She was a TV reporter doing a story on UFOs, I think.”
“Really? Kind of sounds like one of those cattle mutilation experiments.”
“What are you saying? You think it’s possible that aliens killed her?”
“Dude, if a flying saucer flew out of your ass right now, I still wouldn’t believe in aliens. I’m talking about secret military experiments. They used to test chemical warfare stuff on farm animals, spray them with chemicals, pick them up in helicopters, dissect them, and dump them out afterwards. You said she was investigating UFOs, and she was found gutted with burn marks, right? I’m just saying…”
“You’re not serious, right?”
“Trust me, man. The military does all kinds of experiments, and they’re not picky about who they use.”
When Brenda returned with our food, she asked me if I’d learned anything from the TV news station. I told her I had no further information. She looked at me with lovely but discouraged eyes. “Thanks for trying, I appreciate it.”
She walked away and Brett looked at me. “Dude, I think she likes you.”
“I doubt it,” I said, squirting ketchup onto my burger. “I really do feel bad for her.”
Brett was shaking salt onto his rib eye. “How’s things with…what’s her name?”
“Jennifer? Okay. Mostly,” I lied. I wasn’t looking for any relationship advice from Brett, divorced twice before age 30. “Everything’s fine.”
He nodded as he stuffed a forkful of meat into his mouth.
I had Brenda transfer the tab to the bar. Brett and I looked at a map of the area and determined our route while we pounded a couple beers. The road we planned to take wound into the valley and up a ridge. Brett suggested we hide the Jetta off to the side about a mile in and hike the rest of the way. It made sense, even in my beer-buzzed state.
A while later Brenda came over and sat on the stool next to me. She looked tired.
“Do me a favor,” she said, “let me know if you catch them.”
I turned to her. “Yeah, I will, and I’m really sorry about your aunt.” It sounded awkward the way it came out.
She shook her head. “It’s just not making any sense. They should have suspects by now.”
“I’ll see what else I can find out,” I said. “I’ll try talking to law enforcement again. My journalist badge gets me some privileges.”
“Thanks,” she said, getting up to run the tabs of the people lined up at the register. Brett bottom-upped his beer and bro-punched me on the shoulder. “Come on, chief, no time for chasing skirts. We’ve got a mission tomorrow.”
***
In the morning, we ate a quick breakfast of protein bars and got ready. Brett put on camouflage fatigues and checked and racked his Glock that he kept in a concealed holster under his beltline. I was a little worried that he was becoming overly zealous about the mission. I didn’t really know him all that well, and I sure didn’t need him shooting anyone or jumping from the bushes to snap necks.
We headed down North Valley Road. At the intersection with Mountain Road, Brett told me to slow down. He had his back pack in his hands and his wrap-around Oakley’s on.
I glanced over at him. “You want me to stop here?”
“Don’t stop, keep rolling.”
“Don’t stop?”
He cracked the door open. “No, keep rolling.”
I slowed down to about 10 miles per hour. Brett had the door all the way open now and was half hanging out. I slowed some more, and before I knew it he was gone. I looked in the rear view and all I saw a cloud of dust from the road. Crazy bastard.
I sped over to the Proxima Foundation Ranch. I was running late. I parked in a large dirt parking lot and followed the signs to a large white tent where I signed the attendee roster at the entryway and picked up a protocol instruction manual. There were about 40 people inside the tent, sitting in a circle, some in lawn chairs and others on mats. Daniel was in the center, sitting in the lotus position. I sat in a chair outside the circle.
“Breathe in. Now exhale,” Daniel intoned, his eyes closed. “Focus is important. We start by honing in our breath, then focus on our intention.”
After a few minutes, he spotted me. “Ben, come and join us. Have a seat over here.” He pointed to a large mat, half of it occupied by a large woman in sweatpants with curly hair and glasses.
The meditation exercise was painfully uncomfortable for me.
Daniel then explained how the EBEs respond to meditation. “We share the cosmos through what is called unity consciousness. Remember, the most profound level of communication is not communication but communion. When we do the protocol, we are connecting at a much deeper level with our visitors.”
During a break, I spoke with a man sitting across from me named Robbie Spence. His forehead was covered in sweat, and I noticed the pit stains in his button-down safari shirt.
“Is this your first time at a viewing event?”
“This is my third. Once in Sedona, once at Mount Shasta, and now here. My wife and I make a trip out o
f it several times a year.”
“So you’ve seen objects in the sky before at these events?”
His eyes lit up. “Oh yes, almost every time. It’s incredible.”
I nodded. “So you think these objects are from another planet?”
“Absolutely. Seeing is believing.” He smiled at me. “I can’t wait until it gets dark.”
“I can’t wait either,” I said, though I was thinking about Brett’s recon mission, hoping he’d find us a hiding place and remain unseen.
Next, Daniel explained the characteristics of the EBEs, where they are from, and how they travel inter-dimensionally. He lectured about the protocol, covering the rules and plans for the evening. At lunch, Mike handed out sandwiches and cans of soft drinks that they had catered in. I hesitated, hoping that I wasn’t getting myself into a Jonestown situation and then wondering about my level of paranoia. No one else had keeled over yet, so I figured the eats were safe.
“What are you thinking about the conditions tonight for viewing?” I asked Daniel who was sitting across from me.
He looked through one of the tent’s plastic windows, still chewing on his sandwich. “I’m not entirely sure. Weather looks like it will hold out. Moon will be starting to come out tonight, but that shouldn’t matter.”
My phone rang. “Hello?”
It was Brett, doing his best high-pitched effeminate voice. “Hello, sweetie, I need you to come home right now and tend to me.”
I got up and stepped away, still close enough to Byrne so that he could hear me.
“I understand. Is he okay? I’ll be home tonight.” I threw in a, “love you, honey,” just to throw Brett off.
Byrne was looking at me. “Everything okay?”
“That was my girlfriend. She’s got a family situation, and I’m going to have to go home. I’m sorry. I’m going to miss tonight’s viewing event.”
He looked disappointed. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ben. I hope everyone is okay.”
I thanked him and told him I’d be following up with him soon. I got out of there fast and headed back to pick up Brett at our rendezvous point. I rolled along, expecting him to emerge from the sage. He did. I kept rolling, thinking that’s what he wanted me too. He ran along beside me, trying to open the door. It wasn’t opening.
“Stop!” he yelled.
I slammed on the brakes. He jumped in.
“Shit, dude, when someone yells stop, stop!”
I hit the gas. “Sorry, man.”
We went back to the motel and hung out until sunset. Brett made me put on my navy-blue sweatshirt and a camo baseball cap. He also insisted on driving. I gave him the keys.
He stopped the Jetta just before we turned onto the road leading to our destination on the ridge. A sliver of a moon was rising to the west. He wiped on black face paint and donned his night vision goggles, then proceeded forward, now with vehicle lights off.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said, still a little worried.
He glanced over at me with the googles. “Do I look like I know what I’m doing?”
I kept reminding myself that the military had trusted him, so I should too.
We went more than four miles in. Towards the end, the ride got bumpy, the bottom of my Jetta scrapping on rocks and threatening to bottom out. Brett reassured me he’d adequately scoped the terrain out and that he already knew where he’d hide my car. He made a three-point turn and got the car facing the other way. “In case we need to get out of here fast,” he explained. “I’m going to need you to put your watch and cell phone in the glove compartment.”
“What for?” I said.
“They make sounds and give off light,” he said.
I threw them into the glove box, and we started down the road, the moon lighting our way.
It wasn’t long before we saw a 4x4 Ford Explorer parked on the side of the road up ahead. With no one else out there, it had to be Daniel’s people. Brett threw his arm out to stop me. I froze. He scanned our surroundings with his night vision goggles. I couldn’t see shit, but I heard a rustling sound up ahead in the bushes.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered. Brett listened attentively.
Then strange sounds were coming from above. My heart was racing. We looked up and saw a dark V-shaped formation flying south, then we heard the honks of geese.
We shared a look, and Brett gestured silently to proceed. A few dozen yards further and we came to a jack knife in the road overlooking a ridge.
“This is the spot,” Brett whispered.
We ducked into the sage and kneeled down.
“Can I try the goggles?” I whispered.
He handed them to me. After a minute, I spotted three figures, that looked like green ghosts through the night vision, about sixty feet ahead. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. They were each carrying something—drones? Brett already had two cameras on them. One of them released a drone, a large quad with its four propellers whizzing in a high pitch. As it lifted, I saw a flare hanging below it, similar to what you find in an emergency roadside kit. It was making sense: electrical igniters to light the flares upon cue.
“You tracking that?” Brett said softly.
“Yeah,” I said. “you filming it?”
“Affirmative.”
The first drone ascended, then the second, then the third. As they went up, I instinctually stood up. Brett grabbed the sleeve of my sweatshirt and pulled me back down. The first flare lit up, then the second, then the third. The drones hung in the sky and spread out in the shape of a triangle several hundred feet above us.
“Son of a bitch,” I said. “I knew it! We’ve got ‘em.”
“You call that a UFO?” Brett said.
“Only a distance,” I confirmed. The flares would look like what I saw from a few miles away. They were similar in color and shape, this time only three lights, not five. Maybe they were short a drone or two that night.
We filmed until the flares started to burn out, then double-timed it back down the road and jumped into the Jetta, lights off. My adrenaline was pumping as we barreled down the dirt roads and back onto the highway.
When we got back to the motel, we reviewed the video. Perfect. Afterwards, I sat back on my bed and began to worry that maybe we should have stayed somewhere else. My Jetta was parked outside, and I’d told Daniel where I was staying the last time I was here. If anyone had seen us tonight, they could have alerted Daniel. A few seconds later, there was a loud rap on the door. In an instant, Brett was on his feet and turned off the one lamp that was on. I went to the door and looked through the peep hole. It was Daniel and Mike.
“Ben? We want to talk to you,” Byrne said, his voice loud but muffled by the door.
I looked at Brett. He nodded, affirming that I should go ahead and respond.
“About what?” I said.
“We just want talk to you,” Mike said.
I flashed on a fist fight turned gun fight in the parking lot, that would make the local Channel 4 news for sure. Journalist confronts UFO Hoaxer in Parking lot, Shootout Ensues.
I glanced at Brett, confirming that he had my back. I puffed up my chest, opened the door and stepped outside, ready for a cockfight if it came to it. “Let’s talk out here,” I said confidently as stepped out behind me.
“Who’s this guy?” Daniel asked.
Brett and Mike were sizing each other up and staring each other down.
“A friend of mine,” I said.
“What was going on on the other side of the mountain tonight?” Daniel asked.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” I said.
“We got a tip that there were government agents over there trying to hoax a sighting to discredit us. I sent Mike over to check it out, and he said he saw them and your Volkswagen. Isn’t that right, Mike?”
“I was out there,” said Mike, “I saw them, and I saw you.”
I had my hands on my hips. “Oh, really? That’s not what we saw.
What about the drones and flares?”
“Listen, Ben,” Daniel said, “this is all part of a government denial plot to bury the fact of extraterrestrial visitors. Can’t you see? They wanted you to find them.”
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought, he’s a charlatan and trying to confuse and conflate with yet another conspiracy.
Daniel shook his head in disgust. “This is right out Phillip Klass’s playbook.”
“Phillip Glass, the composer?” I said.
“Klass,” scoffed Mike, “the government agent UFO debunker.”
“Did you receive an anonymous phone call, Ben?” Daniel asked.
I wasn’t buying it. “I’ll review my sources when it is appropriate to do so. If what you say is true, why would they wait until now to do this?”
“Because this is about you, Ben, and about the Proxima Foundation. They want to confuse you, get you to report that what we are doing is all fake, but it’s not. The real story here is what they are trying to do with tactics that cover up the real contact and progress we’re making.”
I raised my hands and dropped them in mock exasperation. “Well, Daniel, all I know is what I saw, and seeing is believing, is it not? As a journalist, I have an ethical obligation to report facts and support them with evidence. I think I have enough to show that what you are doing here is all a ruse.”
“Come on, Ben, please don’t do this. You need to listen to me.” He stepped toward me, so I stepped back.
“Don’t touch me,” I said. Mike and Brett looked like that were about to go at it.
Daniel dropped his hands. “Look, everyone, let’s all calm down. I urge you, Ben, to not run with that. You’ll set everything we’ve done back twenty years.”
“I don’t know what else to say, Daniel. We’ve got video of a hoax here and no other evidence to support what you’re saying. I’m just not buying it. We’ll let the public judge the evidence.”
“Ben, if you run a story like this, I can sue you for defamation.”
“Go ahead and try. I know what I saw, and we’ve got it on video.”
The Goldilocks Zone Page 6