Jeremy D. McGowan — “My Search for the Truth About UFOs” (Parts 1-4) — Medium
Source: Jeremy D. McGowan (Medium @osirisuap), a four-part first-person series. McGowan is the creator of the OSIRIS mobile sensor vehicle and a member of UAPx (the scientific UAP-research nonprofit). URLs: Part 1 (2022-05-26) https://medium.com/@osirisuap/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-1-the-first-sighting-a8a8026f28ad · Part 2 (2022-09-05) https://medium.com/@osirisuap/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-2-wtf-just-happened-e18e22fe4bf0 · Part 3 (2022-09-07) https://medium.com/@osirisuap/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-3-red-flags-red-flags-everywhere-c6fe43021dbd · Part 4 (2022-09-22) https://medium.com/@osirisuap/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-4-the-wyoming-aftermath-4ca07ca941ad Captured: 2026-06-29 via direct fetch + trafilatura (not paywalled). Full verbatim text of all four parts. Provenance only; analysis: elizondo-career-and-claims. Author’s self-noted caveat (repeated in each part): “Due to a combination of memory loss from PTSD and old age, specific minor details may not be entirely accurate; however, the overall story depicts actual events.” Weight accordingly: a named, detailed, first-hand recollection by an aggrieved former participant — partly corroborated (it references supporting tweets by Steven Greenstreet and producer Jake Mann, and closes with an endorsement by Nimitz witness Gary Voorhis Jr.) and carrying falsifiable specifics (the Masonic claim; a FOIA he filed), but also interpretation and a stated memory caveat. Note on names: “Jake” here is Jake Mann (filmmaker, “ItsRedacted”), the project’s producer — NOT Jake Barber; this 2020-2021 episode predates the Skywatcher era. “Sean” is Sean Cahill (USS Princeton chief, a 2004 Nimitz-encounter witness). What this is: McGowan’s account of being drawn into a 2020-2021 UFO documentary project alongside Sean Cahill and Luis Elizondo, culminating in a week of filming at Elizondo’s house in Sheridan, Wyoming (January 2021) and a 28 January 2021 HBO Max pitch (James Fox, Jeff Sagansky, Scott Carlin, Marc Barasch), after which McGowan walked away citing red flags. Load-bearing claims, all attributed to McGowan’s recollection: (1) Elizondo told him on the porch, “Everyone thinks I left the Government. I didn’t” — first-hand support for the “Lue never left / narrative-control” thesis in uap-disclosure-schism; (2) Elizondo “remote-viewed his future,” which McGowan deconstructs as a fed cold-read (the predicted details tracked Sean Cahill’s incomplete secondhand knowledge of McGowan’s family and were wrong accordingly); (3) Elizondo claimed to be a “33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason” while denying Blue Lodge membership, which McGowan (a 32nd Degree Mason) argues is structurally impossible; (4) Elizondo said he had been “recruited into the Aviary”; (5) Elizondo showed a purported Russian Phobos-mission “UFO attack” video off his own cell phone; (6) an on-camera offer to have McGowan drive Rendlesham-crash “materials” cross-country in his uninsured 23-year-old Land Rover to Hal Puthoff, which McGowan read as staged-for-TV; (7) Elizondo overselling OSIRIS to Hollywood execs as a SIGINT/IMINT/MASINT/ELINT platform and invoking “Chris Mellon’s 100% blessing”; (8) Sean Cahill’s claim that David Fravor privately believed the 2004 Tic Tac was “fake” or US technology while publicly pushing a non-human reading. It also documents the sustained harassment campaign McGowan says he faced after going public.
Part 1
My search for the truth about UFOs: Part 1 — The First Sighting. Jeremy D. McGowan This is Part 1 of a multi-part continuing story of how I ended up searching for the truth about UFOs. Each Part details a significant event, which, at the culmination of the final part, brings me to the present day. I hope you enjoy this trip. Due to a combination of memory loss from PTSD and old age, certain inconsequential details may not be fully accurate, however, the overall story is a depiction of actual events. (Subsequent parts will be published in the forthcoming weeks.) “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” — Carl Sagan Being born in the early 1970s, I didn’t get to watch Star Trek as it aired; however, my childhood was filled with science fiction as I sat on my grandfather’s sofa and watched those reruns and syndications of “Space: 1999”, “Phoenix Five,” “Timeslip,” “Tomorrow People,” “Planet of the Apes,” “Lost in Space,” “Battlestar Galactica” and a slew of others. My mind filled with endless possibilities regarding our Universe, existence, and reality. I was a sponge, taking in everything I could find. I watched with amazement as Commander Adama led the makeshift fugitive fleet of the last remnants of the Twelve Colonies of Mankind on a desperate search for the legendary planet Earth. I may have blushed a few times at Erin Gray and laughed at Mel Blanc in “Buck Rogers in the 25th Century.”; and I believe I remember breaking my ankle jumping off the roof of my grandparents’ porch after watching Lee Majors in “The Six Million Dollar Man” (adjusted for 2022’s inflation, “The 28 Billion Dollar Man.”) I was enthralled by the ideas of space travel, aliens, alternate realities, and science in general. But things changed. Soon, girls became more fun to look at than the Vogons, and getting my driver’s license meant that I had the freedom to roam and not fill my head with sci-fi fantasies. Soon, I found myself studying psychology in college — and soon after that, the college determined we weren’t a great match. My first “real” job was at IBM. I just turned 20 years old — had long hair and rode a motorcycle. It wasn’t the standard look of the IBM Men in Black suit required by the employees in 1989. I clashed with management. One day, after a particularly terrible, awful, no-good day at work, while riding my motorcycle home, I saw a giant red sign that said “Armed Forces Recruiting Station.” Quickly changing lanes and most likely cutting off at least a dozen cars, I exited and rode into the parking lot. With my helmet under my arm, I pulled open the door and strolled down the hallway. To the left and right were different offices. I surveyed each one briefly without slowing down. Nope — I’m not too fond of that uniform. Nope, this one look like Popeye. Noooo, I don’t want to be a coast guard. Nope, that looks too “rigid” — wait, what’s this? Hmmm — decent uniforms, folks look happy, excellent graphics on their signs, and that burrito the guy is eating smells excellent! So, I walked into the US Air Force Recruiters Office and flopped down in the metal folding chair in front of the desk while putting my helmet unceremoniously on the desk. What came next was so fast my head spun: “You take the ASVAB test in high school?” -“Um, yeah — I think so.” “Let me pull your scores.” “Says here you’re qualified for most anything you want. You want intelligence services?” -“Um, I don’t know what that is.” “Yeah, ok, you want to be a mechanic on fighters?” -“Ehhh, not really — not my thing.” “Ok, you tell me what you want to do.” -“Well, I just kinda want to shoot guns and blow stuff up.” “Gotcha, ok, well, how about Security Police?” -“Sounds good — let’s do that.” The next thing I knew, I was getting a physical exam and enrolled in DEP. The recruiter explained that this was the Delayed Entry Program — and I could finish having fun over the summer and relax and show up to the recruiter now and then until my training slot came up. However, maybe a week went by after the physical, and I got a call to be sent to basic training immediately. “Well, shit,” I thought. This changes everything. But off I went. After basic training, I ended up in Security Police Technical School — and then was assigned to Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina, the 23rd Flying Tigers / 23rd SPS. But, unfortunately, Desert Storm had kicked off, and I was only state-side at Pope for a few weeks before my first deployment to the Middle East. Overall, I ended up spending two and a half years in that sandbox on multiple deployments as well as extensive time in the jungles of Columbia and “elsewhere” in South America. I’d had enough. At the end of my first four years, I decided to move from active duty to the USAF Reserves. One weekend a month and two weeks a year seemed the perfect thing for me. I could get back to my home, relax, and ride my motorcycle, and as long as I kept my hair short and stayed in a moderately decent shape, I was golden. However, it would seem the Universe had different plans for me. My phone rang as I was comfortably plopped down on my sofa, watching TV and eating popcorn. “Hello?”, “Hey Mac, got a question for you,” said the familiar voice of my prior active duty deployment coordinator. “We’ve got something you may be interested in — you want to go back to the sandbox?” “For how long, where, and when?” I said very casually. “Can’t discuss it over the phone. How soon can you be back at base?” he inquired. “Sarge, I’m currently up in West Virginia; I’m not even due for my drill until a month from now,” I replied. “Look, if you want this, get your ass back here, come see me. You’ve got 48 hours to be here,” he said anxiously and hung up the phone. I sat back down on the sofa, finished my popcorn, and spaced out for the remainder of whatever I was watching. I remember vividly walking to the bathroom, tossing the buttery napkin in the trash on my way and splashing water on my face, and staring into the mirror for what felt like an eternity. I can’t remember exactly when I made a choice, but it was made, and I soon found myself with my C-bag and duffle driving from West Virginia back to Pope Air Force base. A tremendous amount of paperwork, new equipment issues, some training fulfillment, EPRs, and some clearance documents had to be accomplished over the rest of the week after arriving back on base. I didn’t feel like anything was happening — just a lot of hurrying up and waiting. I was housed back in my old barracks (and yes, for the Army and Marine folks reading this, it was more like private college dorm rooms — I can’t help you all signed on the wrong dotted line.) Then the call came. “Mac, grab your bag and head to Green Ramp — you’ll meet the other nine folks there and you’ll get on the C-141.” “Roger that.” Nothing else was said. Now, I have to tell you I was, at this point, fully convinced this was just a training exercise. The sense I got since the initial phone call in West Virginia to the “hurry up and wait” and the slew of paperwork didn’t feel rushed at all — it was just military status quo and commensurate with the tempo of every other major exercise I’d ever participated in. On the plane I went, I remained convinced this was just another exercise and that I’d been “invited” to participate so they wouldn’t lose an active-duty body to a time suck. However, slowly, I would reach a very different conclusion. In the numerous staged readiness exercises, I participated in previously, the ops tempo was identical — get on the plane, dump your gear onto the floor of the cargo bay, get inspected — “yep, you have two canteens, eight pairs of socks, your compass, and a change of underwear. Congratulations, you’re good!” Then, the aircraft you were on would be making high-altitude circles in a holding pattern until everyone was inspected, and the readiness exercise IG would certify that the unit passed. Then the plane would land, and we’d all go home and have a beer and complain about the whole process being ridiculous and how Airman “snuffy” once again packed dirty underwear and had vodka in his canteen. But soon, things changed. The aircraft wasn’t in a constant holding pattern — and we were aloft for a lot longer than ever before. It became very apparent that we were heading somewhere. The flight crew wouldn’t talk to us, and none of the other nine of my team had any idea what was happening. We were heading somewhere, and none of us knew where or why. Then we landed. In Delaware. Dover Air Force Base, Deleware, to be exact. The thought amongst myself and the rest of the team was a collective “WTF?!” The next thing that happened was even more surreal. We were transported to the other side of the flight line and there we were instructed to board a C-5 Galaxy. Climbing into the aircraft with the other nine of my team I noticed that we weren’t alone. Already on the aircraft were several dozen very somber-looking folks in a variety of desert camouflage uniforms. Being stationed at Pope AFB, I was very accustomed to the special ops folks in uniform with scraggly beards and non-traditional gear. Pope was in the center of Ft. Bragg and maintained training for Rangers, Seals, Green Berets, and JSOC. Being attached to JSOC support, I’d deployed with some of these folks previously. But this, this was different. They wouldn’t even look at us as we found our seats and stowed our gear. A C-5 Galaxy is a huge aircraft. You can see the enormity of the aircraft in the photo above. There are typically two levels. The top-level with the seats and the bottom for the cargo. After picking out some places for my butt and ruck, I decided that the reward-facing seats weren’t conducive to my desire to not vomit, so I crawled down into the cargo bay, found a pallet of gear with some loose strapping, and made myself a hammock for the duration of what would be the longest flight I’ve ever endured. At that point in my military career, I was an M-203 gunner. This is the M-16 rifle with an attached grenade launcher. I had my weapon, but no ammunition while on the flight. I hadn’t even been issued ammo prior to departing Pope, which was one of the contributing factors to me thinking it was an exercise deployment. But that soon changed as well. The flight lasted a lifetime. At least, my team had no indication of where we were going as the other soldiers, seals, and airmen didn’t really appear conversational. As I was in the cargo bay of the C-5 napping and just trying to keep myself occupied, I could see a lot of the equipment which had been loaded. There were JSOC dune buggies, weapons crates, pallets of bottled water, and an extraordinary amount of satellite communication gear. This felt less and less like a mobility exercise and more like a well-coordinated and planned operation. But for what, I had zero ideas. But what was going to happen next clued me in…a bit. Now, keep in mind that at this point I’d spent over 2 and a half years in the middle east and a long time in the jungles of South America — I’d been dropped in, flown in, driven in, and walked into locations that were less than desirable. But when the C-5 started diving into a near-vertical corkscrew, my makeshift pallet hammock wasn’t going to cut it. Making my way back up the ladder to the top deck and strapping in, I could feel the massive beast of an airplane start to pull out of the steep descent corkscrew and dive. Now, while commercial airliners come in at around 3 degrees to provide a nice, gentle landing for the passengers, the Air Force was perfectly fine with coming in at what felt like 60 degrees. At what felt like what should have been the moment of death, the pilot pulled up, and the landing gear slammed onto the runway. Full brakes were then applied, forcing everyone into the back of their rear-facing seats as the slats opened and the plane was thrown into full reverse. Inertia was not my friend that day as a metric ton of loose gear and water bottles, radios, and bags began to attack my face. When everything stopped, I checked to make sure I was still in one piece and not covered in vomit and got up as I was very anxious to see where we were. I heard the cargo bay doors begin to lower, and the motorized pallet winches move the crates out of the airplane. Climbing down the ladder back into the cargo bay, I saw sand out the cargo doors. “Lovely,” I thought. “Well, at least Sarge was right about going back to the sandbox again.” My team linked up on the tarmac, and the 10 of us just stood around with our weapons and gear, thinking, “Now what?” That’s when everything finally became a reality to the strangeness of this deployment. We were standing off to the side of the C-5 when a scruffy man in a uniform approached us with no patches, markings, or rank. He knew our names. We were directed to a clamshell structure and told to sign in and get our incoming briefing. We humped over to the clamshell and were immediately told to take a seat and don’t ask questions. It was just my team and the scruffy unidentified man in the tired and unmarked uniform. It must have been his twin brother who started the briefing as it looked as if they shared the same beard and patchless/rankless uniform choices. The briefing commenced with a single statement; “Welcome to Jordan,” Mr. rankless stated. “Ok,” I thought, “At least now I know where we are, but why are we here” I muttered. “You are now participating in Operation Elipse Foxtrot, a joint services exercise. Your team is tasked with the security of various depots and remote sites supporting this exercise,” stated Mr. Patchless. “Exercise my ass,” I thought. This was no exercise. This was a full-blown operation in Jordan — but I had no idea why or for how long. It was undeniable that this was anything but an exercise. Confirming my suspicions my team was separated. This never happens — we train as we fight, we fight as we train, and knowing the guy’s reactions and personalities to your left and right is as important as knowing how much ammo you have and where you put your eight pairs of socks. It’s paramount to combat survival, and splitting up a team is just something that isn’t done. But it was done. To this day, I don’t know where the rest of my team went or what their duties were, but I vividly remember mine. I was issued 240 rounds of 5.56 ammunition for my M-16 and given 18 rounds of HEDP grenades for the M-203. HEDP means “high-explosive, dual purpose.” It’s designed to penetrate at least 2 inches into steel armor and causes casualties within a 130-meter radius. Not anything used during an “exercise.” I was then transported to my post. This was a significant distance into the Jordanian desert. I couldn’t even tell if we were still on that Jordanian military base or if we had just traveled into Indiana Jones territory. There was nothing but sand, some rocks, a few dunes, and some tire tracks for as far as the eye could see. Then, it appeared — a tent — a sizeable beige tent — in the middle of the desert. We slowed and stopped a few dozen meters before the tent. I was told this was my post and that I’d be there for several days. There was a latrine, a pallet of water, MREs, the tent, and one other USAF Security Police officer that I did not recognize. I can’t remember if a Captain or a Major came out of the tent and told us what we were to be doing, but he walked us around the side of the tent and showed us an enormous wooden crate. The crate was large enough to house a car. It had no markings, placards, or anything to identify its content. “This is your priority. Don’t get near it. Don’t let anyone else get near it.” That was it. There were no written SOPs, no rules of engagement, no maps, nothing — just the order to not get near it and not let anyone else get near it. Not even a definition of what “near” means. “Sir, what do we do if someone does get near the crate?” I asked. “Shoot them” was the very severe and blunt reply. Yep. 100%, not an exercise. The other USAF Security Police officer and I would take the night shift. During the day, a truck would come, pick us up, take us to the mess hall for chow, and then we’d hump to our quarters, get a shower, sleep, and do it again the next night. Now the mess hall was where things as if it were possible, got a little more strange. Military comradery is a universal constant. We rib, laugh at each other, mess with each other, and talk — my God, do we talk. But the mess hall was very low-key. Groups sat on their own and didn’t consort with anyone from any other group. I looked around and saw people from the Army Rangers, Naval Special Warfare, a slew of the command staff, and even people from the FBI were there. However, the one thing that struck me was a handful of folks from the US Department of Energy wearing desert uniforms and looking fully out of place with designer glasses, expensive watches, civilian-style briefcases, and satchels. Everyone else, well, I’d seen their kind and served with them on other deployments throughout the Middle East but never had I seen anyone from the DoE. The nights on post were about as dull as watching golf. There was no one around. The tent was off-limits to me and the other security police officer. We only had our weapons, water, MREs, night vision goggles, and time. We stared at the crate. Boredom set in. I ended up crawling up on the crate, standing on the crate, sitting on the crate, and even pissing on the corner of the crate. Then the novelty of that even tapered off. Back then, as it was another life, I smoked. I smoked a lot. Now, obviously, I couldn’t smoke around my post, the crate, or the tent, so I started to meander a few hundred meters into the desert where I wasn’t visible but could still keep an eye on that mysterious crate while feeding my nicotine addiction. Walking up a small dune, I sat down and lit up. I could survey the whole area from where I was. The desert night was cool, crisp, and completely cloudless. I looked up and could see more stars than I ever thought possible. This was a restricted flight zone, so there was absolutely no aircraft anywhere near the vicinity of my post. The Milkyway was visible to my east, and Draconids was just about centered to my north. The night sky was amazing. As I stayed perched there on the dune, the other security police officer walked up, plopped down near me, and lit up his cigarette. He was smoking middle eastern Bidi cigarettes. They are small, hand-rolled cigarettes wrapped in a tendu leaf. There was no reason to head back anytime soon as there was no one around the area, and we could see for thousands of meters in all directions. So, I laid back on the dune and stared at the night sky. Eventually, I remembered that I had a set of night vision goggles in my pack. They were the best the military had at that time — a pair of ANV/PVS-7Bs; dual eyepiece/single imaging tube. With those, you get approximately a 40-degree field of view, but looking at the night sky, you can see millions upon millions of more stars than with your naked eye. I spent about 10 minutes staring up in wonder, gazing at the stars, meteorites, and a few passing satellites, before my entire idea of reality would be forever changed. That’s when it happened. The event would rock my perception of the world and simmer in the back of my head for another 24 years before I did anything about it. I saw something that I couldn’t explain. As I lay on my back gazing at the stars through the night vision goggles, I witnessed a bright pinpoint of light coming from my 6 o’clock, traverse to top-dead-center over my head, affect a 90-degree left-hand turn and shoot off to my 9 o’clock. Then it happened again. And again. And again. It repeated every few seconds over the course of a minute or two. There was no decrease in speed. There was no arc to its turn. It maintained constant velocity before, through, and after the 90-degree turn. It traversed from horizon to horizon in less than 2 seconds. It made no discernable noise. Through the NVGs, I couldn’t tell If it had any color, as everything appears in shades of green, but it was brighter than the brightest star. I took off the NVGs and handed them to my smoking buddy. “Here, take a look at this,” I said. “What am I looking for?” “You’ll know it when you see it.” He took the NVGs, put them on and adjusted the focus, and stared up. A minute or two passed with no reaction — then I saw him move his head down and to the left fast enough to pinch a nerve. Then, without saying a word, he took off the goggles, handed them back to me, reached into his ammo pouch, pulled out another Bidi cigarette, lit it up, and walked back towards the crate. He never spoke of it the remainder of the time we were on post. I couldn’t alert anyone to what we had seen as we had walked away from our area of responsibility to smoke a cigarette, and it would have been disastrous for us to admit what we were doing when we saw what we saw. Nothing was ever said again about that night. The crate, for years, remained a mystery to me. Though I had suspicions about its contents, I was never able to verify it while in Jordan. The contents of that crate and the nature of that exercise weren’t fully realized by me for another 24 years. Part 2, to be written and published in a few days, will detail the information I found which solidified, to me, the validity of this sighting of what I now consider to be a UFO. Be sure to subscribe to this account to be notified when Part 2 is released. Parts 3 and 4 will discuss what I’ve been doing about this over the past 2 years and how I ended up with UAPx (www.uapx.space) — a non-profit scientific research organization dedicated to studying Unknown Aerial Phenomena. EDIT: Part 2 can be found here: https://uapx-media.medium.com/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-2-wtf-just-happened-e18e22fe4bf0
Part 2
My search for the truth about UFOs: Part 2 — “WTF just happened?” Jeremy D. McGowan This is Part 2 of a multi-part continuing story of how I ended up searching for the truth about UFOs. Each Part details a significant event, which brings me to the present day at the culmination of the final part. I hope you enjoy this trip. Due to a combination of memory loss from PTSD and old age, specific minor details may not be entirely accurate; however, the overall story depicts actual events. (Subsequent parts will be published in the forthcoming weeks.) “The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas-covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.” — Douglas Adams If you’ve not yet read Part 1 of this story, I highly suggest you do so. It can be found HERE: Before describing this next chapter in my search for the truth about UFOs with the concentration on the crate, I must inform the reader that I am not sure about anything. Of course, I’m sure that I’m not sure. But, this is how I spend my life; being confident that I don’t know anything. I, like everyone else, guess, speculate, consider, and come to a most hardened “definite maybe” in most things. This story is one of the strongest definite maybes I’ve ever spoken about. Almost three years to the date of this story is where we now begin; June 2019. I am a year and a half out of a divorce with 50/50 custody of my then 6-year-old daughter. I am financially not in a good place and suffering from both PTSD and depression and a slew of other things that may or may not have real names. Insomnia is a genuine issue for me. I could sleep for 45 minutes, wake up, and stare at the ceiling, wondering where things went sideways. I couldn’t turn my brain off. Intrusive thoughts and non-productive ideas would constantly occupy my head, preventing me from pulling myself out of a hole and restarting my life. I was at a point where life had become a repetitive assembly line of monotonous tasks that required attention lest they compile more issues. So I chose only to do the obvious ones to the outside world. The mortgage wasn’t one of them, and often my electric bill wasn’t either. Brushing my teeth seemed laborious and wasn’t something I could drag myself to the bathroom to accomplish. I was doing the bare minimum for survival, not living. I rarely even left my house. I was a mess. During an unremarkable incident of insomnia, I managed to drag my ass from the bed to the sofa and click on the television. I don’t have cable — only a few streaming services; browsing through them, I found a show called “Unidentified: Inside America’s UFO Investigation.” The episode I landed on intrigued me. It featured some folks from the military describing their witnessing of a UFO. My brain locked onto their story. Suddenly, 24-year-old memories of my time in Jordan were pushed to the very front of my brain and began slapping my prefrontal cortex and my limbic system. I became instantly obsessed with what happened to me in 1995 and what was happening to the soldiers on that show. Running through the memory of my 1995 event, I realized I didn’t remember the name of the unidentified USAF Security Police Officer who was with me that night and saw the same object I had seen. He was the only other human link to this event and the only person I knew of on this planet who I could speak with and validate my memory. Yet, I had no idea who he was or what base or unit he was from, which drove me closer to the edge. I managed to pull myself off the sofa and sat down at my computer. I opened up Microsoft Word and began writing a request to help identify this unknown person. I must have written the request 20 times. Each time I read what I wrote, I thought, “this is insane,” or saw something I had written that I couldn’t talk about due to the classification or something that would cause me other issues. By 11 am that morning, I had around ten small paragraphs written out that touched on the generalities of what happened in 1995. In that request for help, I stated that I believed the crate to contain nuclear material, most likely a calibration device used as an analog to calibrate satellites that searched for errant nuclear warheads. I was still in the mindset that this -could- have been some exercise, even though my gut conflicted with my rational thoughts, which told me it wasn’t. After writing the request for assistance, I pondered who or where to send it. I decided to post it to a UFO sub-forum on Reddit. The original post can still be found here: https://www.reddit.com/r/UFOs/comments/c7hmpm/searching_for_others_who_saw_this/ No one seemed willing or able to help track down a completely unknown person. However, a few of the replies to that post suggested that I contact the TV show I had just watched as they have an email address at the end of the show for military personnel who have witnessed a UFO tell their story. So, I opened up that episode again, fast-forwarded to the end, and saw the email address. Being tired, lethargic, and allergic to human interaction, I copied and pasted the Reddit post into the email and sent it off. Then, Nothing happened. Nothing happened for about six weeks when I received an email reply from one of the Executive Producers of the TV show. Jessica Philips is the name of my first contact with the show. She stated that they received my story and wanted to know if I was comfortable speaking about it to the production team and potentially the world. I was adamant that my goal in all this was to validate my memory of the events by identifying and finding the unknown airman posted with me in Jordan. I was told that the show was staffed by serious researchers and a prior government official, and they had the resources to help if I was willing to speak about my sighting. Looking back on everything, this would be the first disappointment in telling this story to a TV show in a long series of blows. I was vetted. They got copies of my military service records, proof that I participated in Ellipse Foxtrot, and they did some independent research on the “exercise.” The next thing I knew, I was being picked up from my house in a limo, taken to the Las Vegas airport, and flown to New York to the History studios. Now, things started to take me into the rabbit hole that is everything to do with anything about UFOs. I don’t remember the name of the hotel I was placed in, and I’m not a massive fan of New York. I grew up in the country and was very accustomed to having space. Even in Las Vegas, I bought a house far enough away from everything that I have a yard and at least a modicum of privacy. New York is vastly different…in the city anyway. People live on top of other people. People live on the sidewalks. I’m fairly certain I saw people living on top of other people on the sidewalks. I wasn’t very comfortable there — but I was hungry. I wandered down to the hotel lobby to ask where I could get some food. The hotel bar/restaurant was closed, but the check-in lady told me about a deli a couple of blocks from the hotel. As I turned around to walk outside and make my way through the urban jungle for a pastrami on rye, I ran into the man who would be interviewing me the next day…Lue Elizondo. “I thought you were taller.” So I thought as I walked up to him and said, “Hey, you’re interviewing me tomorrow.” So he turned around and sized me up, and we started shooting the shit about UFOs for about an hour in the hotel lobby. Now I can’t remember the details of anything Lue, and I spoke about, but it felt as if I was being told things I shouldn’t be told. The details were just “detailey” enough to seem actionable and solid, but also vague enough that it would be difficult or impossible to prove/disprove. Nevertheless, I was fascinated by being told these things by the former director of AATIP. He asked me a few details about my story so he could be better prepared for the interview the next day, and I recounted my story. He told me about Christopher Mellon, a bit about TTSA, and he really, really, really stressed the idea of UFOs being a national security threat. I flashed back to my experience multiple times during our impromptu talk, thinking that I couldn’t remember feeling threatened by anything — but I went with it because, well…what else could I do? My stomach soon reminded me of my previously aborted mission to find sustenance with a loud gurgle. I politely excused myself, told Lue I’d see him tomorrow at the interview, and made my way to the deli. That night, back in my hotel room, insomnia kicked in again. Intrusive thoughts of going on TV and telling the world about my sighting event were nerve-wracking. I still didn’t know who the guy on the dune that night was. What more could I say that I hadn’t already said a half dozen times on email? Why did they need this on camera? They had everything I knew already… Why all the bother with TV? “BRAAAP BRAAP BRAPP BRAAP BRAAP” came the sound of the alarm radio. Then a slightly more friendly wake-up call from the front desk followed by the sound of my electric razor and the taste of toothpaste quickly erased by the bite of coffee made from hotel tap water. My day had officially started. Soon, I was transported to the city’s other side in another limo. Graffiti, dilapidated buildings, razor wire, more graffiti, a half-dozen bridges, a ton of traffic, and a surprising lack of parking spots passed me as I stared out the window, wondering, “what the hell have I gotten myself into?” Pulling up to the studio, I immediately see that it’s Nothing like what I would have expected from Universal or Warner Brothers. Instead, it was a warehouse that looked as if it once housed a furniture store or perhaps a sweatshop back when the surrounding neighborhood wasn’t appearing as if it had just emerged from the war in Bosnia. It had a few dressing rooms, a small cafeteria, a large room with many black curtains, a few video cameras, a slew of microphones, and two chairs. One chair was where I was directed to sit. The other chair was for Lue Elizondo. Over the next hour, I recounted my story; was asked questions; answered questions; was asked opinions; gave opinions, thanked for my time, returned to my hotel room, and flew home the following day. “Wait. What just happened?” I was supposed to be introduced to investigators and researchers who could help me identify the person with me on that dune and saw what I saw! I left with no answers. I left without my phone charger too. Damnit! I sent a few emails to production that were ignored, and I was never extended the courtesy promised to me; that was why I agreed to tell my story on television. “Damnit!” Now being back home and left with a sense of “was I just used,” I retreated into my day-to-day life. I worked at a company, which I will not name — suffice it to say that it was the worst experience I’ve ever had in my youth or adult life. The environment was toxic, the leadership was abhorrent, and I was sliding deeper into a state of depression. Nearly a year passed as I felt I’d never escape the hell I was living in. Then, finally, The History Channel aired Season 2 of “Unidentified: Inside America’s UFO Investigation,” and everything began to change. The episode featuring my story was episode 3. After the show aired, my phone and email began to blow up. I got my first request for a podcast interview by Ryan Sprague of “Somewhere in the Skies,” Shortly thereafter, I appeared on Andrew Hall’s “Dead Hand Radio.” It was on “Dead Hand Radio” where the catalyst that would drastically change the course of my life was presented. During my interview with Andrew, he asked me a straightforward and single question: “What do you think UFOlogy needs?” I thought about it for a second and replied, “Standardization in data collection.” I expanded on the idea that everyone out hunting UFOs was using different equipment, different cameras, and different processes for collecting — and that it was primarily image-based — and because camera phones are awful at photographing distant objects, we needed something that everyone could use — something that was purpose-built for the single task of collecting imagery and data on UFOs. Then, Andrew mentioned the first time I would hear “Skyhub.” Now, I won’t bore you with the details of what SkyHub, (now Sky360) was — but suffice it to say that while I was still speaking with Andrew on the podcast, I was using my second monitor to research and begin to order parts for what would become, for a while, the heart of OSIRIS. As parts began to arrive, I cleared off a portion of my home office desk and began assembling the SkyHub — piece by piece, mistake by mistake. I soldered connections, learned that my soldering skills were abhorrent, and soldered them again until It at least looked as if I knew what I was doing. I became vaguely familiar with Linux, docker containers, and NVIDIA Jetsons. Then after weeks and weeks of desk-top-tinkering, I flipped the switch and watched it boot up. So many features didn’t work — but the camera did! Then it struck me — I live in the brightest city on the planet. How the hell am I supposed to capture anything with all this light pollution? The answer was simple, I thought. Mobile — it had to be mobile. A few months before, I retired my 1996 GMC Jimmy — a vehicle that had been my family’s daily driver for nearly three years. It had been stolen and recovered, but it was never quite the same. The thieves had gutted and slashed my seats, stolen the radio with a crowbar, broken the steering column, and utterly destroyed the transmission. I still drove it, as I had Nothing else. But the time had come to get something that was, at least a bit more, dependable. As luck would have it, I chanced upon a visually pristine 1999 Land Rover Discovery II — one of the most capable off-road vehicles ever produced. Replacing the Jimmy, it had become the new McGowan Family Ride. It was royal blue with a tan interior — and like every Land Rover, everything was breaking. I loved that with its five main and two rear jump seats. I would rebuild the entire suspension, fabricate my rock sliders, rebuild the engine, and re-wire most of the vehicle. And during that seemingly never-ending process, I began to drill holes in the roof and run ethernet cables, install inverters, and mount specialized surveillance cameras on the roof. I began to document the process as I had recently found this hodgepodge of disparate people on Twitter, gathered under the unifying hashtag #UFOTWITTER. With my appearance on the TV show and a few podcasts under my belt — the building of this vehicle with the SkyHub became, apparently, of interest to quite a few folks online. To my surprise, my meager 200 followers began to jump exponentially. This was a wild world. I didn’t know who anyone was — I had never heard of Richard Doty, Lina M. Howel, Hal Putoff, or any of those people. But #ufotwitter wouldn’t stop talking about them. As the vehicle build continued, the SkyHub began to take shape in the back. I got a Twitter DM from a guy by the name of Jake Mann. Jake and I talked for what seemed to be hours. He told me he was a producer who ran an informative podcast on UFOs and that he’d been following my vehicle and skyhub build. He said that he would be interested in documenting my story and progress. We talked about how it was important to show that everyday people can stop relying on this or any government for the truth about what is happening in our skies. Soon, the discussion became a serious effort. As luck would have it, I was about to be introduced to one of the recurring parts of the phenomena; a coincidence of events re-branded as a “synchronicity.” This synchronicity came in the form of another phone call a few days after Jake’s. This time it was a man by the name of Justin Tandy. was a director and ran a podcast called “I Believe in Humans.” The conversation was very similar to the one I had with Jake — and Justin’s interest in creating a film of me building the vehicle was in line with what Jake and I spoke about. Justin had a director of photography named Dustin Hoyer and the skills of directing, while Jake had the producer experience and a grasp on the vision needed to produce. So, I introduced everyone, and things began to come together around the idea of simply making a documentary about my searching for the truth about UFOs. During this time, my social media reach began to grow, and I was starting to interact with some, shall we say, “rather interesting and highly imaginative people.” I couldn’t separate the bat-shit crazy from the enthusiastic and legitimately knowledgeable. I needed to align myself with someone I felt may be able to navigate the who’s who of #ufotwitter. Sean Cahill, who was on Season 1, was becoming a fixture in Season 2. I sent Sean a series of DMs and an email or two and received zero replies. So, I started looking for other people when I created a form letter that I would send out to five or six folks from the TV show I thought I could speak with. The form letter detailed the pairing of Jake, Justin, myself, my vehicle, the idea of a documentary, and how I was attempting to navigate the diverse personalities of #ufotwitter. I sent the letter to Sean Cahill as well. This time, he contacted me back. Sean and I would speak nearly daily. Oftentimes three or four times a day, and almost always for over an hour. My wife was beginning to make some jokes about how I had found my soul mate on the other end of the phone. We would talk about our mutual dissatisfaction with the TV show and its editing. The importance and significance of Lue. The idea of never getting disclosure from the Government. The nature of the phenomena and our personal belief structures. Sean also gave me a lot of insight on others inside of #ufotwitter. I was warned about Wilcox, Doty, Simms, and Greer and was introduced to McMillian, Putoff, Semivan, and a few others. I told Sean about the potential film with my vehicle, and things began to shift into “1st Gear.” Sean and I began to have multiple conversations with Jake Mann and Justin Tandy. I invited Sean to participate in the project– he absolutely jumped at the chance. Jake was using his previously deep research into UFOs to build a list of witnesses and “hot spots” where I could drive the vehicle. At the same time, Sean and I conducted interviews and attempted to use SkyHub to catch evidence. Things were actually coming together. Keep in mind that my singular goal for this was to build the vehicle and to obtain access to people and places that just some random guy with a strange truck would not have — but with a camera crew and legitimate film being made, I might. The project took on the name “The Corner.” We had bounced around several ideas, from “The Unnamed” to “The Journey” to a few others, but Sean felt that calling it “The Corner” would provide for some interesting graphics, and he could wax poetic about how he and I were two points with the phenomena itself being a convergence… whatever, I went with it. And it was about this time that things started to get shaped in a way that I never imagined or expected — because it was at this time that Lue Elizondo entered the picture. Sean had always talked about Lue. While I maintained some contact with him after the TV show, I didn’t make it a habit of reaching out to him. To me, he was this super-important ex-government guy who was embroiled in the UFO topic at a level I couldn’t even imagine. But Sean made it seem as if he and Lue were best friends. In nearly every conversation, Sean was always saying, “Lue said this, or Lue thinks this, or Lue has access to that, or Lue believes x,y, and z.” I felt I knew more about the UFO topic than most humans ever would simply from Sean’s accounting of what Lue was doing, thinking, and building. We were told that Sean and Lue were working on an extremely large-scale media project where Sean had taken on the responsibility of, in his own words, “Putting Lue in everyone’s living room each Friday at 6 pm” We were teased with the potential of getting access to locations that “made Skinwalker ranch look like a joke” and access to research facilities, AATIP investigations, and the whole nine yards. Sean told Justin, Dustin, Jake, and me that he was managing Lue Elizondo’s calendar and that anything he said to us could be taken as speaking directly for Lue. After Sean made that point extremely clear to us, Sean was unconsciously placed at an even parity in our minds with that of Lue Elizondo — someone who had inside access and could facilitate conversations with Lue and get us to people and places we would never have been able to access before. At this time, I also began to have reservations about things. I couldn’t even mentally quantify them, but something — and only in retrospect — seemed off. However, the allure of having unfettered access to Lue Elizondo superseded any of my initial red flags, and I continued diving into this newly opened rabbit hole. Sean had become the Yogi of our loose band of film project folks. He spoke about transcendentalism, meditation, his take on the phenomena, the ideas of remote viewing, and astral projection. Through all of his conversations, he always made reference to Lue and somehow tie in Lue’s approval of Sean’s theories to bolster their credibility. At one point, Sean told us all a story where he was having a crisis of sorts in life, and he sat on his back patio and demanded that the universe acknowledge him. His exact wording to us was that he insisted that the universe “wave” at him. He then told us how, at that same moment, a praying mantis walked past his spot, stopped, turned its head to Sean, lifted one arm, and “waved” at him. For Sean, this appeared to be a confirmation of sorts. I began to question things a little more in the front of my mind after pulling them from the back. I am now over 4,000 words in this section of my story. I shall leave you, dear reader, to ponder what I’ve written above as I begin work on the next chapter. The third installment will describe how my trip to Lue’s house in Wyoming coalesced, the shenanigans which occurred there — the (now infamous) incident where it’s been described how I endangered lives with OSIRIS when it caught fire (it did not), and how I was blatantly lied to. It takes me a while to find the time to write — so I thank you for your patience. EDIT: Part 3 can be found HERE
Part 3
My search for the truth about UFOs: Part 3 — “Red Flags, Red Flags Everywhere!” Jeremy D. McGowan This is Part 3 of a multi-part continuing story of how I ended up searching for the truth about UFOs. Each Part details a significant event, which brings me to the present day at the culmination of the final part. I hope you enjoy this trip. Due to a combination of memory loss from PTSD and old age, specific minor details may not be entirely accurate; however, the overall story depicts actual events. (Subsequent parts will be published in the forthcoming weeks.) “A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on.” — Winston Churchill If you’ve not yet read Part 1 of this story, I highly suggest you do so. It can be found HERE: Let’s pick up where I left off in Part 2, with the budding friendship between myself and Sean Cahill. As the days and weeks went on, the conversations Sean and I had grew longer and longer and began to take a severe turn for the esoteric and what I refer to as the “woo” with high doses of “love and light.” I was feeling a tremendous amount of whiplash — to the point where I envisioned a mental neck brace might be needed to move forward with things. Sean was, on the one hand, encouraging my efforts to seek answers in the realm of “nuts and bolts” while at the same time pushing extremely hard for me to adopt a philosophy of the phenomena being all about consciousness, intent, extra dimensions, and even to accept the idea of the Galactic Empire. Sean seemed extremely conflicted on a personal level and often questioned himself. On December 18th of, 2020, I received a text message from Sean. He was saying he would release a “how to” video on guided meditation — but he also felt as if he was “…a tool, A sucker. A fucking foil [sic].” I took this to mean he was questioning his role with Lue. I attempted to appease him as best I could and move on from that conversation — but the thought that Sean was starting to question things always stuck in the back of my head…though directly afterward, there was no more visible second-guessing from him. It was as if he had been self-convinced, or someone did it for him — for, after this episode, Sean was 100% in. The main issue to me now was that Cahill didn’t seem entirely convinced that the general public should even be told the truth about UFOs. Sean began a trip down a road where he appeared to believe that the phenomena were part of a control construct designed to entrap and enslave humanity. He expressed beliefs to me that we are on a prison planet, inside of a nearly infinite loop of constant repeats, “until we get it right.” His commitment to my vision of finding, identifying, and releasing the pure unadulterated truth regarding the phenomena was taking a back seat to what I perceived to be his status and closeness to Lue Elizondo. Sean was, in my opinion, absolutely convinced that everything about the phenomena was a danger, a threat — not just in the aspect of nuts and bolts and laser beams but that the “entities” or “those responsible” for the phenomena were somehow feeding on humanity. He believed that UFOs were in the process of removing people’s consciousness from their bodies and replacing it with something different. He was lashing out at the UFO community, calling people “fools” for not having a clue what kind of control the UFO technology allows. After posting the above tweet and seeing the voting results, Sean became rather agitated at #ufotwitter, calling people “fools” for not realizing (in his words) “…how quickly and easily the tech to cloak and destroy with near impunity, to remove consciousness from a body and change its contents. They want a dopamine truth boner even if it makes them slaves again.” At this point, I was still battling severe depression — the depression I spoke about in Part 2. I was yearning for a sense of belonging, for a reason to exist, and something to be relevant. I wanted something that would allow me to make my mark. I was easily manipulated and shaped. I found myself riding in a convertible down “Woo Avenue” where there weren’t any ideas presented that were too insane. Everything explained seemed to make sense. Consciousness was the right approach to understanding the phenomena — what did I think this was a nuts-and-bolts affair? Woo was where the answers were! Something rather striking occurred on December 9th, 2020. This was one of those incidents where the information presented to me was so utterly contradictory to everything I believed at the time that it didn’t even register with me. Even though I asked for and received that clarification, it went in one ear and out the other. And it shouldn’t have. It should have slapped my brain with a giant “STOP NOW — THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!” warning… but instead, I glossed over it and stayed on course. The event went down like this: I was sitting in traffic on my way to work at around 7:45 am on December 9th, 2020. The highway was a full-stop parking lot. So my mind began to drift as I watched the guy beside me pick his nose and chain-smoke cigarettes. I reached for my phone and sent Sean a message asking why I, a 49-year-old with a crappy truck, a worse job, and no appreciable skills to speak of, was in the middle of a large-scale project with Lue Elizondo and not someone like Lt. Cmdr. David Fravor — the pilot who laid eyes on the TicTac during the 2004 Nimitz Encounter. Why would Lue invest his time in me and not someone like Fravor? As I said above, the answer I received should have shaken me to the core. But I think it was so bold, open, and honest that it simply didn’t register with me. Sean’s answer is my mental poster child for why I now question EVERYTHING. Sean stated, quite matter-of-factly, that Lt. Cmdr. Fravor didn’t think the TicTac incident was actual. His exact words were that he thought it was “fake.” I sat for a moment in my car with a gobsmacked look on my face which, luckily for my tint, no one in traffic could see. Finally, I typed up a clarification text and asked: “What do you mean by he knew this was fake?” Sean replied: “He thought it was fake or our[s] and he was sure. Didn’t believe in anything past a black program and acted like he knew better.” Pressing for more clarification I responded with: “So he saw what he saw and he believed it to be US technology and he propagated a narrative that he himself believed to be false?” Sean replied with the “heart” emoji signifying his acceptance of the correctness of my statement. I didn’t know what to do with that information. The primary witness of the 2004 Nimitz TicTac event believed it to be either fake or US technology — but was out and about pushing the idea of it being a non-human technology. WTF?! But as luck would have it, traffic began to move, and I motored my way to the worst job I’ve ever had and spent the next eight hours imagining how long it would take my boss to bleed out from being stabbed with toothpicks. I think, at a subconscious level, perhaps, I held onto that statement more than I realized because if Fravor believed this to be US technology, what the hell was I doing entertaining the ludicrous ideas of a conscious connection and energy density levels with telepathic communications that cause praying mantis to stop and wave… Nothing was making any sense. Perhaps my failure to key in on the idea that Sean, the self-appointed spokesman for Lue Elizondo, would say that Lt. Cmdr. Fravor believed the TicTac incident to be “fake” because of the rest of the words in the message Sean sent to me. He unloaded on Fravor, saying things like Fravor was “way in over his head,” saying that when Fravor did a UFO conference, he went from “bashful to boner” and how Sean saw Fravor’s ego explode. As if that wasn’t enough, Cahill continued to bash Fravor and said that “nobody liked him…he did not have a likable personality” and then continued to say that “Fravor’s the kind of guy who, if I was still a Chief, he’s the kind of guy whose ass I would have kicked. He’s the kind of commander that I would have berated in front of his commanding officers for stupidity.” I was taken aback by Sean’s willingness to brutalize Fravor in such a direct way. I’d never seen Sean react with vitriol and hate towards someone, and I believe that it was for this reason that I failed to key in on the idea that Sean felt Fravor thought the TicTac incident was fake. Mental whiplash began again, and I started to have misgivings about my abandoning hard science in favor of transcendentalism and deep diving into consciousness and phenomena. Especially in light of the fact that the Yogi-Guru of the group who was practicing meditation and preaching the one brotherhood would blatantly attack someone, I was confused about what I was doing. When I expressed these hesitations to Sean, he told me a story. He began explaining that he had constantly been seeing what he called “silver basketballs” hovering over and around his house. But then they stopped. In an audio message he sent me over the Signal App, he alluded to the idea that he couldn’t see the silver basketballs anymore because he had put his meditation practice down for a more “neutral scientific” approach. I took this as Sean’s way of trying to get me to stay off the science and stay on the woo. This was a red flag. Why would looking at the science be a killer for seeing silver basketballs? Why would Lue not associate with Fravor, ESPECIALLY if Fravor thought it was US Technology? It made no sense — but I wasn’t yet at the point where I was openly questioning what Sean said, even if he claimed to speak directly for Lue. Time passed on, and this team of misfits got Lue involved directly with the project. Sean promised us access to James Fox, George Knapp, Jacques Vallée, and many other big names in the UFO Community. We were all stoked that this was becoming an actual “thing.” Little did I know it would be the “Swamp Thing” and not the “thing” I had envisioned. But that comes later. The amount of information that was coming my way was simply overwhelming. I was developing insights on people based on what I believed to be accurate and honest assessments from Sean by way of Lue. I remember when Jake Mann asked Sean if Jim Semivan was still in TTSA, to which Sean replied, “He’s not taken seriously off record.” Sean would continue over the next several weeks, giving us hot takes of Putoff, Semivan, the Bledsoes, Greer, and many others. It seemed to me there were two faces to the whole UFO story…there was the public-facing story where everyone is aligned, working for a common goal, and the more personal story where everyone worked from a competing level of interest, ideas, and thoughts — and behind that door of privacy, things were a bit nasty. This even trickled down into the individual personalities inside #ufotwitter, where Sean would give us “insight” into people he felt we should avoid. Sean’s comments regarding Ryan Sprague being a “whiny little bitch” and that Lynda Thompson is “LARPING” and is a “…full on fake and lures in suckers” became normal. In retrospect, it appeared to me that we were being divided from the start and categorized into an “elite” group. Right around this time, I came up with the name of my vehicle. Sean had been talking rather insistently about the idea that the phenomena is a control structure and spoke about how he believed that the Ancient Egyptian god Osiris was alien artificial intelligence used by entities to control humanity. He even went so far as to compare the symbol of Osiris with that of the modern icon for a hard drive or file structure. I was still in the process of eating this up. I didn’t mind that there was back-door vitriol in contravention to the public face people saw. However, I was on the “inside” and felt I still had a sense of purpose, reason, motivation, and responsibility. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere as I felt any concerns could be addressed, clarified, and remedied later — and honestly, I wasn’t even fully aware of how ridiculous things were. The documentary project (it was still a documentary at this point) continued. We managed to get the crew, myself, and Sean’s travel dates to all converge at Lue Elizondo’s house for a week of filming. On January 15th of, 2021, Sean flew from CA to Las Vegas, where I picked him up from the airport. He stayed at my house. Drank my coffee, went with me to my daughter’s JiuJitsu practice, ate my breakfast, and BSd on my sofa. The next day, Sean and I would take the OSIRIS out into the desert and field-test the SkyHub by flying Sean’s DJI drone around the vehicle to test the triggering functions, only to find out that it didn’t work. The SkyHub wasn’t even triggering on a drone just a few feet from the camera and certainly wasn’t triggering on it hundreds of feet away. I was upset — but we decided that the trip to Lue’s was still on as this was just a pilot/teaser/test video for the documentary, and nothing of evidentiary value was going to be collected anyway — and we could simply “fake it” with the SkyHub in post-editing. Two days later, after spending nearly 17 hours in the same vehicle — Sean and I arrived at Lue Elizondo’s house in Sheridan, Wyoming. My wife flew in the same day and was transported to Lue’s house later that evening by the camera crew. We would spend the next four days filming “something” without a script, any idea of what we were doing, and without written agreements, plans, strategic documents, or guidance. We were winging it from start to finish, and we didn’t even have an end goal. I met Lue’s wife, Jen. She seemed to be a welcoming and decent person — although it was very apparent, very quickly, that Jen wasn’t someone who was sitting idly by. She was very much a part of the process. She is highly opinionated and not afraid to speak her mind. At one point in the days that followed, I vividly remember Jen at her witts end during a kitchen remodel gone wrong where she unloaded on both Lue and Sean. She was furious that Lue wasn’t getting a slice of the financial pie for “this contract” and that, at a minimum, they (Lue and Sean) should reach out “to the CO” and get them to “at least assign you a Yeoman for administrative things.” I didn’t key in on that at the time, but in retrospect, two things now jump out at me. First is the fact that she referenced a contract, and second is the use of the term “yeoman,”; signifying an association with the US Navy. Perhaps this tied into what Lue was about to tell me a day or so before this occurred… Entirely inconsequential for any part of this, I found it interesting how Jen stood an apparent two to three inches taller than Lue. I don’t remember if it was Lue, Jen herself, or Sean who mentioned it to me, but apparently, Jen is of Russian descent. The first evening we were all in Wyoming was absolute chaos. The film crew was outside scouting locations and shot placements while Lue, Sean, and I were on his back porch huddled around the grill, watching Lue cook some dogs and burgers while we all tried to stay warm in the -12-degree weather of Wyoming in winter. At this time, Lue looked right at me, glanced at Sean, nodded — and looked back to me and stated, “Boys, I’m going to tell you something. Everyone thinks I left the Government. I didn’t.” That sentence in and of itself should have thrown me for a loop. But as it turns out, I was reasonably prepared for it to happen in one form or another. Back on November 29th, 2020, I fielded a report from an Army Captain who was in the process of witnessing a UFO event near the Indian Point nuclear facility in New York. The individual called me as the event occurred, and I took the report. I notified Lue, who asked if he could have my source’s permission to share the report with the new [UAPTF] Task Force Commander. When I gave the affirmative, Lue replied, “Copy…under no circumstances can the general public know that the report has been shared with the USG. This is a gentleman’s game, and mutual trust is of primary importance. The price of the ticket to play the game is knowing that you will never be able to tell anyone you are helping folks on the inside.” I bought this hook, line, and sinker — I felt special that I was so closely involved with some clandestine back-door effort of the USG that was likely akin to a resurrection of Project Blue Book and that me — my silly ass — would be a part of this historical record that would someday come out in some FOIA and be broadcast everywhere. I was feeling pretty proud at that moment. Every piece of information I’ve gathered since then points to the fact that there was no sharing of that report with the UAPTF commander. I even filed a FOIA and attached the actual report to the FOIA requesting the SAME report with its chain of custody… nothing. So, whether Lue lied to me that day, or if there are such loose controls in that version of the UAPTF that the left hand doesn’t know what the right hand does — I don’t know. All I know is that now, I feel as if I was played. But that event backed up what Lue told me on his porch — that he never left the USG. Back then, I felt I was “inside.” I was rubbing elbows with the person I thought would help change the world of secrecy. I was feeling pretty damn high on my horse. After the burger and dogs, and after the camera crew departed, leaving only myself, my wife, and Sean at Lue’s house, I was taken downstairs to Lue’s office. This is the room where nearly everyone has seen the back two walls in countless podcast interviews. Lue moved around some military memorabilia, showing me the Berrett he claimed belonged to Sadaam Hussain’s limo driver. A few photos of Lue in military settings — both in and out of uniform- hung on the wall. But one thing I expected to see in his office was suspiciously missing. During the two-day drive from Las Vegas to Wyoming with Sean, we talked about nearly everything — including Freemasonry. I told Sean that I was a 3rd Degree Master Mason and wondered if Lue was. Sean stated that he believed he was but couldn’t confirm it. So, when the opportunity presented itself in Lue’s basement office, I asked him, point-blank, if he was a Mason. The terminology I used was if he was a member of the Blue Lodge. A “Blue Lodge” is a Masonic lodge in which the first three degrees are conferred. It is a common term and one that is known by every Mason I’ve ever met. Simply googling the term will provide the commonality of its use. The reply I got from Lue would leave me stunned, with every alarm bell sounding, watching and waiting for something else to be wrong. Lue seemed to pause for a moment before answering my Blue Lodge question and replied, “No, but I am a 33 Degree Scottish Rite Mason.” It will take a moment for me to explain to the non-initiated why his response gave me the chills. Let’s start with the most obvious: It is absolutely impossible to be a 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason in ANY open Valley of the Scottish Rite without being also a 3rd Degree Master Mason in good standing at an active and recognized/non-clandestine Blue Lodge. So for Lue to deny being a member of the Blue Lodge but claim to be a 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason is unless he is a member of an unauthorized, unrecognized and clandestine Valley of the Scottish Rite, bullshit. The other reason this bothered me so much is that I am a 32nd Degree Scottish Rite Mason myself. As a 32nd Degree Scottish Rite Mason, I am also a Lifetime member of the Scottish Rite Research Society. I receive quarterly magazines, bi-quarterly books, and random correspondences and maintain communication with other Brothers on a routine basis. Not once had I received notification that Lue Elizondo had been bestowed the title of 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason. The 33rd Degree is an honorific given to a Scottish Rite Mason as a lifetime achievement award. It is not something that can be sought after; peers can only award it. Becoming a 32nd Degree Scottish Rite Mason takes nothing more than sitting through a few degrees and lectures. Once you’re a 32nd Degree Scottish Rite Mason, you have many opportunities to become KCCH (a red hat). Once you’ve got your red hat, it takes time, dedication, and service to the Scottish Rite to gain the white hat and become an Honorary 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason. While I admit that Lue may be a 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason in a clandestine and non-recognized Valley, I am convinced he is not what he claimed to be. His statement appeared to me to have been speedily crafted to bolster his status without fully comprehending the gravity or the ability to verify what he was telling me. Combine that with the understanding that compared to every single other Mason I’ve ever met or associated with — all having their Masonic aprons, certificates, regalia, and other accouterments proudly on display with the fact that I saw exactly no evidence on display or anywhere which would even remotely hint that Lue was, in fact, a Mason — much less so, a 33rd Degree Scottish Rite Mason. As I mentioned, Sean and I spoke about Masonry on our drive to Wyoming. Never once did I say during that trip that I am a 32nd Degree Scottish Rite Mason in addition to being a 3rd Degree Master Mason. I kept it simple and didn’t do much other than answer Sean’s questions about Masonry. The fact that I hadn’t mentioned my 32nd Degree to Sean is a crucial factor to remember and will be referenced again in a bit. So, from the moment I heard what I believed to be a direct lie by Lue to me, I spent the rest of the time there in a state of “what’s going on, what’s wrong here, what else do I need to see that I’m not seeing now?” The most disturbing part of that mental state is that I was now open to seeing the bullshit — and oh, my damn, did I see bullshit. Whether this part is the truth or if it were a fabrication by Lue, I honestly don’t know; but that same night, Lue stated he had been “recruited into the Aviary.” I’m not going to dive into that rabbit hole in this writing, but I felt it was important to mention that the statement was made — by him — directly to me. I can’t remember if it was the second or third night at Lue’s house. Still, the film crew had gone home, leaving only Jake Mann, Justin Tandy, myself, Sean, my wife, and Lue sitting in Lue’s kitchen swapping war stories and generally having an interesting conversation. It wasn’t long before someone brought up the topic of Remote Viewing, a “thing” that I didn’t and still don’t put much stock in. So, I had a LOT of questions for Lue. I sat at the table as Lue drew out on a napkin how there were different “realms” and how you could astrally project yourself into these realms, and how that (as he tapped his pen on the napkin) if you ever end up in this realm, “…there is no humanity there, you can get lost and never make it back.” My wife was mostly done with the conversation and headed to bed. I stayed. I started asking clarification questions because most of what I was hearing didn’t make a lick-bit of sense, and I needed to understand. About the fifth or sixth question I asked Lue, I saw him take a posture that I interpreted as him being upset with the questions. At that time, the biggest show of bullshit I’ve ever seen came wafting my way — straight from the man himself: Mr. Luis Elizondo. Lue was sitting directly to my right. Sean was to my left, and I believe it was Jake seated to the left of Sean. When Lue appeared upset at my questions, he stopped — he reached over with his left hand and placed it on my right forearm, took a deep breath, dropped his head, and began to tell me about my life…in the future. Yep, I typed what you just read… feel free to read that again and let it sink in before we go on. So, Lue Elizondo, the public face of the latest UFO movement, someone who was apparently a member of The Aviary and maintained (apparently) direct communication with the current UAPTF commander…someone who was previously with the DIA and had apparent ties to the Monroe Institute… was “remote viewing me, in the future.” With his left hand firmly on my right forearm, he said to me, “In three years, and four months to this day, something is going to happen that will make you look back on this and say, that son-of-a-bitch was right.” He didn’t elaborate before he went on to tell me that my daughter would go to one of the most prestigious universities in the United States and that I would fare a lot better than my ex-wife who was going to suffer from drug addiction. This is where I pulled it all together and called the entire situation a complete and utter circus of lies, misdirection, fantasy, and — bullshit. At that very moment, I had a bit of a flashback to the ride up to Wyoming with Sean in the OSIRIS. I remembered our conversation about family, and I replayed it in my head, looking for pieces of information that Lue could have received 2nd hand by way of Sean. And all the pieces started falling in place for me. This is the first time I’ve publicly spoken of this outside of close friends and family — but I don’t have one daughter; I have two. I have a 24-year-old and a 9-year-old. I never mentioned my oldest daughter to Sean because that was, at that time, a relationship between father and daughter that was estranged and under repair. So I didn’t involve her or make her known to anyone. Likewise, I never told anyone I had been married TWICE before my current and amazing wife, Edith. I’ve never mentioned my first wife as ever existing to anyone outside my family. But I spent excessive time talking about my youngest and referring to her as “my daughter” because, quite frankly, she’s a genius and destined for great things. And Sean had even met her while in my home. Reflecting on Lue’s “future remote viewing” words, I realized precisely what I believed to have happened. Sean was passing on to Lue tidbits of personal information on me, much the same way that “psychics” in road shows do to their audience with the help of the TV show producers… But Sean didn’t have the whole picture, so Lue didn’t have the entire picture; it all made sense. Lue saying my daughter (not my youngest, had he known I have two) but only referring to her as my daughter would go to the most prestigious university in the US showed that he had no idea I have two daughters. His comment about my ex-wife (not my first or second ex — just my “ex-wife”) having a drug addiction problem showed me that Lue had no idea that I had been twice previously married. Again reflecting on the conversation Sean and I had on the trip up to Wyoming, I vividly recall telling Sean that my ex-wife had an “addictive personality.” This statement, apparently, made it to Lue, who potentially misinterpreted it to mean that my ex-wife was struggling with an addiction to drugs. When I told Sean about my ex-wife having an addictive personality, I never elaborated what that meant — when it had absolutely NOTHING to do with drugs or alcohol. The ex-wife I was referring to is a health addict, a gym rat, a marathon runner — someone who is addicted to fitness, and she’s also a Mormon who doesn’t even drink coffee due to the caffeine. And even if a rare instance happened when I inadvertently spoke about my first ex-wife (which I did not), she doesn’t have any addiction issues either — she’s a Full Bird Colonel in the USAF. But it appeared that Sean had misunderstood, combined with not knowing I was twice previously married, and told Lue that my ex had an addiction issue — which appears to have been exploited by Lue during his “remote viewing of me in the future.” It was all garbage, smoke, and mirrors, and I was pissed off. It couldn’t have been staged better unless Lue wore a turban while staring into a crystal ball. The next day, we were scheduled to drive out into the middle of the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) property and do some filming of the OSIRIS on the road, with Lue in his black pickup truck. Wyoming is authentic “God’s Country,” and I can honestly say I’m hard-pressed to come up with a more scenic and impressive vista than that of the area surrounding Lue’s house. We spent a good four hours in the backcountry, flying drones, wasting time, and filming me chasing Lue, Lue chasing me, and general shots of the OSIRIS traveling down dirt roads. It was on our way back to Lue’s house when the now infamous event occurred where I allegedly “put everyone’s life at risk and almost killed Lue.” Now, I’ve been told by more than one person that a certain person in this accounting of events has previously told various podcast hosts and other #ufotwitter members that I was reckless, dangerous, and nearly killed people while we were in Wyoming. That is patently untrue. It is designed as character assassination and is in and of itself slanderous. What occurred is as follows: On our way back from BLM land, Lue was in his black pickup and hauling ass down a many-mile-long dirt road. I’d estimate that he was driving a variable speed of between 60 and 80 miles per hour with a dust trail kicking up to the point I had to back off to see the road and turns safely. This caused me to lose sight of Lue a few times. During one such loss-of-sight, I completely missed that he had apparently swerved to avoid a washout across the dirt road. I hit it at about 60 mph — so hard that one of the camera guys in the back seat flew up, hit his head on the roof, and bit his tongue so hard it was oozing blood. EVERYTHING in the vehicle shook, fell, and moved. I thought I saw my soul leave my body for a moment — I wasn’t even sure my axel had survived the impact…but we motored on. A few moments later, we all heard a series of “pops” from the back of the vehicle. “What the FUCK was that?!” I exclaimed. The camera operator in the back seat said that the “red box” was glowing and smoking. The severe impact from hitting that wash while chasing Lue apparently shorted out the power supply to the SkyHub. It burnt one wire, threw a few sparks, and stopped. It was over before I even managed to get out of the car and pull its connecting power cable. Now, I suppose that with an extremely vivid imagination and one prone to over-exaggeration and fantasy, one could stretch the story into a “Jeremy almost killed people.” But the facts of the incident are exactly as written above. There was no fire. There was no danger to life. The event lasted about 8 seconds. That night, back at Lue’s house, another incident of a red flag was about to appear. I felt as if my questioning of his remote viewing had touched a nerve, and while perhaps it was my imagination, I couldn’t shake the feeling as if I was being held off at arm’s length. However, in proper form to what I’d seen before, Lue was about to extend to me a piece of information I can only imagine he believed would bring me back. While standing in his kitchen drinking whisky while Lue drank a glass of Chardonnay, he walked over to me, put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. Looking at his phone, he said he was about to show me something almost no one had ever laid eyes on. He flipped through some photos until he landed on a specific video. Gingerly pressing play, he held up the phone for me to watch what was unfolding on the screen. The only way for me to describe it is that it appeared to be an old surveillance video. However, this seemed more blue and white, unlike standard black and white videos. Some telemetry was up in the corners, and a targeting reticle was in the middle. There was a “blob” in the distance — non-ironically looking like a potato. Impossible to judge size or distance; I watched the blob for a few seconds until it appeared to race towards the camera when the video stopped. Lue told me it was a highly secret video smuggled out of Russia from one of Russia’s missions to Phobus. According to Lue, a UFO attacked the Phobos mission probe and destroyed it. This was on his cell phone. In his pocket… but presented to me as if it was one of the most crucial state-secrets humanity had ever possessed. What did he expect from me? Was I supposed to fall to the floor and place myself in worship? Was this supposed to convince me that he had all the answers? Come on…I spent a decade-plus in the military and have a fairly good handle on the understanding of classifications and CUI, Secret, and TS materials handling. I absolutely can guarantee that a cell phone in your back pocket isn’t one of the authorized repositories of sensitive information. The final night at Lue’s house, felt as if it summed up my entire experience and solidified my belief that, like Sean said of Lt. Cmdr. Fravor, “none of this was real.” That doesn’t mean that UFOs aren’t real off-world alien craft, only that the dog and pony show I had somehow slipped inside of wasn’t what it was supposed to be, and certainly didn’t feel like it was right. The film crew wanted to shoot an interview scene between myself, Sean and Lue. They selected Lue’s living room as the set location. Nothing was scripted; everything was off the cuff. However, the words that were about to come out of Lue Elizondo’s mouth watered the seed that had been growing for days, and I was screaming inside, “THIS ISN’T RIGHT!” Lue, on camera, and which can be verified through the below tweet by Steven Greenstreet, “offered” us an opportunity to “go and retrieve pieces of alleged material that had been recovered from one of the most interesting events that we now know is real, i.e., Rendalshim.” (https://twitter.com/MiddleOfMayhem/status/1553783801695719427?s=20&t=0-IxRrAecAugTlSQvvdxqA) It blew my mind. Twice. Initially, I was frigging ecstatic that I had a mission that was to be documented as I drove across the entirety of the United States, from Las Vegas to Ohio, to retrieve what could be some of the most important artifacts relating to UFOs that humanity possessed. I was thrilled that I would be delivering these to Dr. Hal Putoff in Texas for analysis. I was over the moon thinking how brilliant this would come across on camera — I MADE IT! I was absolutely in the “club” — being trusted with this mission of extreme importance for the entire idea of disclosure. But then, my brief flirtation with this imaginary fantasy world gave way to critical thinking, logical thought, and my bullshit filter. This. Didn’t. Make. Any. Damn. Sense. Why? Why? Why would materials from Rendalshim be in a private family’s hands in Ohio? Why would this have not been analyzed before? Why wait for a TV show to highlight the materials and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD — WHY ENTRUST A 23-YEAR-OLD VEHICLE WITH A GEICO LIABILITY-ONLY INSURANCE POLICY TO TRANSPORT WHAT COULD POTENTIALLY BE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD ACROSS THE ENTIRETY OF THE UNITED STATES? Something like that should have had an armored car convoy with US Marshalls transporting the samples to Los Alamos…not me in a 1999 Land Rover and a radiator hose held together with duct tape. This was dumb. This was disingenuous. This was fakery. This was sensationalism. This was NOT in keeping with my original goal of documenting my search for data — this had been coopted into the “Lue Show” and I wasn’t going to have a damn thing more to do with it. Or so I thought. I’m now over 6,000 words in this, Part 3, of “My Search for the Truth about UFOs.” I’ll not let you suffer through more today. Part 4 will cover the pitch of the screener we filmed to media executives from HBO Max, James Fox, Scott Carlin, Jeff Segansky, and some others, and then my final decision to walk away from Lue, Sean, and Jake, entirely. Until then, dear reader. Part 4 can be found here: https://medium.com/@osirisuap/my-search-for-the-truth-about-ufos-part-4-the-wyoming-aftermath-4ca07ca941ad
Part 4
My search for the truth about UFOs: Part 4- “The Wyoming Aftermath.” Jeremy D. McGowan This is Part 4 of a multi-part continuing story of how I ended up searching for the truth about UFOs. Each Part details a significant event, which brings me to the present day at the culmination of the final part. I hope you enjoy this trip. Due to a combination of memory loss from PTSD and old age, specific minor details may not be entirely accurate; however, the overall story depicts actual events. (Subsequent parts will be published in the forthcoming weeks.) Disclaimer: A couple of things here -First, what I am writing is my experience, opinion, and interpretation of events. I am not claiming anyone is part of Scientology or perpetrating a PsyOp — only that I interpret the events around me in a way, I would expect if it was. Also, I’m a TECHNICAL writer — not a novel writer, story-teller, or any entertainment writer. If your chief complaint is that my articles are rambling, well — you’re right — they are. This is, so far, the longest of the pieces — a lot happened, and I tend to write as I think. I don’t have a professional editor. I would also like to note that I have not sold my story, brokered any deal, or received any money for these articles. I am writing these for two fundamental reasons: 1) I need to get this off my chest, and 2) I would feel responsible for others, should they also suffer from apparent manipulations as I did — if I didn’t inform people of my experiences. At the end of these articles, I can have a clear conscience knowing the information is out there for others to read and incorporate into their informed decision-making processes. “In 2014, former Deputy Counsel of the CIA, John Rizzo, wrote, ‘The CIA has long had a special relationship with the entertainment industry, devoting considerable attention to fostering relationships with Hollywood movers and shakers — studio executives, producers, directors, big-name actors.”― Matthew Alford, National Security Cinema: The Shocking New Evidence of Government Control in Hollywood Let’s pick up where I left off in Part 3, with me thinking I was leaving the project…but then I didn’t. Why? Why? Why would materials from Rendlesham be in a private family’s hands in Ohio? Why would this have not been analyzed before? Why wait for a TV show to highlight the materials, and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD — WHY ENTRUST A 23-YEAR-OLD VEHICLE WITH A GEICO LIABILITY-ONLY INSURANCE POLICY TO TRANSPORT WHAT COULD POTENTIALLY BE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD ACROSS THE ENTIRETY OF THE UNITED STATES? Something like that should have had an armored car convoy with US Marshalls transporting the samples to Los Alamos…not me in a 1999 Land Rover and a radiator hose held together with duct tape. This was dumb. This was disingenuous. This was fakery. This was sensationalism. This was NOT in keeping with my original goal of documenting my search for data — this had been coopted into the “Lue Show,” and I wasn’t going to have a damn thing more to do with it. Or so I thought. The drive back to Las Vegas from Wyoming was interesting. Hitting that wash had sheared off the bolt holding the top of my right front shock absorber in its turret. As my wife and I drove, the vehicle started to make some “interesting” noises on small bumps, and the suspension began to feel wobbly. I pulled into a small gas station in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming, and managed to convince them to allow me to rummage around their maintenance supplies. Eventually, I found a bolt and a nut that seemed like they would fit. The problem now was how was I going to compress the shock enough to get it lined up with the bolt hole? My wife weighs less than my pit bull, but I had her climb onto the front of the truck and stand on the bumper while jumping up and down. Each bounce allowed me to compress the shock more until I finally slid the bolt into place. Finally, we were back on the road and heading to Las Vegas. The last day in Wyoming had been a bit hectic. I lost two radios, two WWII-style jerrycans of fuel, and a camera. Nevertheless, the trip was enlightening, with the time spent and the reflection of events becoming formative to my overall thoughts and approach to the idea of disclosure in general. While I was still processing the circumstances, the red flags, and my concerns, wrestling with the idea of pulling out of the project, it wouldn’t be until a few more weeks before I genuinely withdrew from the project. One thing that kept replaying in my head was a conversation I listened to in Lue’s kitchen where I, Sean, Lue, and a few others were discussing our project and making statements as to how “this was what TTSA was supposed to have accomplished.” Ironically, this conversation would come full circle in a later conversation with studio executives from HBOMax. That comparison inevitably leads to someone asking Lue, “What happened to TTSA?” Lue’s response was rather shocking. (Now, please remember that I am paraphrasing in this next directly-following section, and the quote isn’t exact — but the gist is. ) Lue told us that TTSA collapsed because Tom DeLong’s sister was mismanaging the organization and that Tom had taken the investor money and used it to make a movie. Interestingly enough, after saying that it would likely be that “Tom would go to jail,” that topic was dropped. The conversation then concentrated on how Lue never received messages through Tom’s sister and how he missed many opportunities to speak and be interviewed. I found it a bit odd how the concern was about scheduling and not the accusations of embezzlement and SEC violations — but the nature of our talks was like this — where seemingly important topics were only briefly touched on in favor of deeper dives into meaningless areas. Nothing further regarding Tom was ever said — but I got the distinct impression that Tom was acting like a loose cannon. The topic was never brought up again. However, I would (and do) reflect on this often and wonder, if this was true, how the SEC hasn’t taken action, why Tom was able to make his movie, and how the current iteration of TTSA is still soliciting funds from investors. It didn’t line up. But then again, not much ever had. So take this event with a grain of salt. It may have happened as he stated, or it may have been deflection. I don’t know either way. Before I explain all the nuances, issues, and processes I went through and witnessed for the pitching of the finished teaser trailer from the Wyoming trip, I want to expand on one aspect I mentioned back in Part 3; the alleged remote viewing of my life in the future. Since that came out, I’ve fielded a few “Twitter Spaces” conversations and had the opportunity to clarify what I never fully expressed in the text. However, those Twitter Spaces get lost, and I want you to fully grasp the depth of personal damage Lue did to me with his alleged remote viewing of me in the future. If you remember, I stated that I was suffering from depression and low self-worth and found myself mentally vulnerable during that time. Combining those issues with the understanding that I was, am, and remain -open- to the idea that remote viewing, conscience connections, and all the “woo” COULD be possible, the event stuck with me. Sure, I come off as a skeptic and non-believer in the woo — but this is only since I’ve never seen any reputable scientific data with a statistical significance pointing to the “woo” being real — but I do remain open to accepting should that evidence and data ever be presented. Perhaps one of the reasons I am such a stickler for data is because I WANT to KNOW that what I believe is possible is also probable. So, in that mental state, combined with my desire to believe and my willingness to accept and paring that with my skeptical take on things as they currently sit (and then sat) the event, Lue’s words and the whole process stuck with me in a way that, to this day, really pisses me off. The idea that MAYBE, just MAYBE remote viewing is actual, and MAYBE, just MAYBE, it’s possible to remote view the future, and MAYBE, MAYBE Lue is a skilled practitioner of Remote Viewing — then MAYBE, just MAYBE, what he said is true. It’s the non-zero percent chance that what he said is true that stuck with me and continues to eat at a part of my rational brain. It causes me, to this day, a significant amount of angst and concern. See, there was a part of that event that I didn’t write; I was still considering something for relevancy and potential inclusion in this article, and honestly wondering if I should share such a deeply personal event. In the end, I’ve decided to elaborate because I feel you need to know…you need to know what to watch out for. You need information from ALL available perspectives to make the most accurate, informed decision possible. Lue Elizondo gave me a precise date (and no, I am not going to say when that date is — so don’t ask) of when something was to occur to me that I would have a very difficult time getting over. I mentioned it in passing, but I didn’t explain how hard this hit me, and it still hits me. If remote viewing of the future is possible, and if Lue has that ability, what right did he have to push this on me? I never asked to be told about my future; I never asked what was to happen to me. Had anyone asked, “Hey, would you like to know your future?” I would have said, “NO!” Especially when an adverse negative event. I don’t want to spend years counting down the days, walking on eggshells, imagining what it could be… a car crash, the death of a loved one, a house fire, a debilitating disease, an assault… But that is EXACTLY what I’m going through — and he didn’t have the right to say that to me. He. Had. No. Right. He is now, with assumed intent, living rent-free in my head. I spend countless hours, constantly, fighting with myself — my brain is bifurcated with half of it saying that this is all bullshit and Lue was at top P.T. Barnum mode and the other half saying, “but if he’s right — will the decision I just made trigger the event, will the set of tires I just bought fail and kill someone — will the action I just did be the catalyst for this terrible event that takes me a long time to get over?” These thoughts are constantly in my head, and I directly place the blame on Lue for implanting these intrusive thoughts — because I’m OPEN to the idea of the “woo” being real. It was wrong. It was invasive. It was mentally detrimental. It was unethical. It was brutal. No one has the right — no one should violate basic human ethics — no one should ever manipulate or otherwise affect the mental health of another human in such a non-volunteer way. This was not asked for. This was not welcomed. This was wrong. This is Gaslighting. This IS abuse. I fully recognize that the probability of Lue being anything other than a fake, manipulating, self-serving charlatan who uses neuro-linguistic programming and other “parlor tricks” which have, in my opinion, a striking similarity to what I’ve read about the tactics of Scientology, is statistically higher than him being a clairvoyant remote viewer capable of predicting the future. Still, I am now, through the direct cause of his forcing this upon me, stuck in a constant battle between “What if he’s right?” vs. “He’s full of shit.” This plagues me. My rational brain knows this to be manipulation, but the simple fact that I remain open to the idea of “woo” being, at least partially, real keeps me thinking that there may be something to this. I second guess nearly everything I do to prevent enacting a self-fulfilling prophecy…but at the same time, maybe that second-guessing causes the prophecy to occur. No one deserves to be trapped within this circle of hell. I see two blatant violations of basic human values here:
- If he knows the future, he should never force that knowledge upon anyone who doesn’t directly ask for it. The ramifications of this “disclosure” alter personalities, change lives, create unwanted stress and angst, and violate the basic foundations of personal sovereignty and the very definition of ethical behavior. Not to mention the direct invasion of privacy by gaining access to personal information that hasn’t even happened yet. It is anti-humanistic and approaches the boundaries of being simply evil.
- If he is full of shit, then his words were designed in a way to forcefully change behavior without any regard to the wellbeing of the receiver and without any care whatsoever to any mental collateral damage it may do — all for a self-serving reason and without care. This, too, is approaching the boundaries of being simply evil. I do not see a scenario where his actions positively effect anyone outside of himself. (If he could really remote view in the future, he should have seen all of this coming…but maybe he did. I am swirling in circular logic and drowning in second-guessing. ) I highlighted those three portions of Lue’s pledge as I feel that he is in direct contravention to both the letter and the spirit of those statements. What I experienced was absolutely real in the effect it had on me, and I don’t believe he always told me the truth; I don’t feel I was treated with respect, and I certainly feel as if I was abused. The disconnect between the constant back-and-forth between Cahill’s statements of the importance of maintaining a scientific approach and attacking those who were “woo” when speaking to me but accepting the “Woo of Lue” was maddening. To highlight this, there was a previous conversation where Sean said that he “…had names to secretly discriminate and mute people.” He called them “namers.” He said that “If you claim to know the names of any of these fuckers…Andromedans, Zeta Reticulans, Martians…any hint of knowing the name of “The Phenomenon” and having special knowledge that requires your special techniques… I’ll film it and smile, but I bet it gets Jack shit and woo woo.” If that was his true feelings, why then would he apparently fully accept the idea of Lue Elizondo remote viewing me from the future… none of it made sense…none of it. In my opinion, the public face of Lue Elizondo is drastically in opposition to his private behavior. I do not believe that Lue “always” tells us the truth. I was not respected — as manipulation and exploitation are not forms of respect. The overall approach I was subjected to feels like a form of abuse — it certainly wasn’t healthy. I take serious exception with his publicly facing words highlighted above as they are at direct odds with my personal experience (and allegedly, the experience of others.) Either way you slice it, it was a non-invited discussion on his part. Perhaps I’m over-sensitive to this. Perhaps you would also feel how I do. I don’t know. My rational brain believes this to be a circus act designed to “bring me back into the fold.” However, I can’t shake the notion that there is still a non-zero percent chance that he’s legit — and that infinitesimally small percentage is burning a hole in my head and will likely continue to do so until the date comes and goes. But again, I never asked for this — and his actions are, in my opinion, and in their continued effects on me, a “dick move.” Regardless of option 1 or option 2 above, it is something that I will never forgive him for and something that I sincerely hope no one else has ever been made to suffer through. Though I feel the likelihood that others are subjected to this is high… I feel as if the people in Lue’s close circle may be selected due to their damaged mental states, giving way for easier manipulations and control. In my experience, I’ve met, spoken with, and even befriended a handful of people who were/are at least tangentially associated with Lue in one way or another. Many of these people told me similar stories and experiences. Folks from Canada, Northern California, and even Texas have familiar stories and have told me various aspects of their mental health. Some are prior military — even from Canadian forces. Some are scientists. Some are ex-police officers — but the commonality between them is their statements on how they felt they were being recruited, groomed, controlled, and manipulated. They expressed similar reactions that I witnessed from Lue when they didn’t “buy what he was selling.” There appears to be a pattern. And that, to me, is both significant and disturbing. To me, it’s also a basis for those in his circle who appear to be nearly militant in their defense of him to be re-evaluated as not necessarily bad people but perhaps just misguided or otherwise controlled. I feel the people who have become soldiers of his defense should be allowed to be seen in a different light and be given a pass of sorts. In his previous conversations with me, Sean may have been right about this being a control construct, but he may have been off the mark regarding who built that construct. Justin Tandy and Dustin Hoyer from “I Believe in Humans” and Jake Mann from “ItsRedacted” spent the next couple of weeks pouring over the footage shot in Wyoming. I can not express enough how their professionalism, cinematic vision, editing, sound treatment, and direction were shown in the final product. They took five days of “show up and throw up” and produced a 2-minute video with quality better than that of any TV show trailer I’ve ever seen. The output was fantastic. The cinematography was fantastic. The editing, coloring, and sound processing — are all fantastic. It looked amazing. These folks are pure professionals with an extreme amount of combined talent — I truly wish them all the best in their future endeavors. This was the single part of the whole fiasco that wasn’t done half-assed. Any group, corporation, agency, studio, or project would be well advised to use these folks for their media creations. The pitching of the product came back around, full circle, to amateur hour. During many of this team’s previous conversations over text, conference calls, and emails, we were told by Lue, through Sean, that we were known by some heavy hitters in Hollywood. That landing a continuing series was basically ours to lose. Sean had previously told us that he had been directly tasked with taking over Lue’s media engagements and that he was handling all of Lue’s meetings, appearances, and such. As mentioned before, this was all occurring during and right after the collapse of TTSA. Fast-forward to January 27th, 2021. The team had spent countless days before, during, and after the Wyoming shoot being told that this was in the bag and that we would land a series from it. We were convinced this was the best thing since a TTSA investment, and we were guaranteed to end up on a long-term series. After watching the finalized teaser trailer, Lue asked us all, “Gents, this is a Very, Very good product! My wife watched it 4 times already. With your permission, i am now sending to Scott Carlin, James Fox, Jeff Seganski, and one other former CEO from HBO-Max. Stay tuned!!!” Obviously, we were all stoked and felt, through the words of Sean, that we were “in,” and it was a done deal and that the presentation was simply a formality. The excitement level pushed back my issues and concerns — I was about to be on HBO! In retrospect, it’s actually quite amazing how the allure of being on TV can make one forget that things aren’t what they appear to be. I succumbed to it. Again, I felt as if this would be a life-changing moment, complete with fame, fortune, and a legacy. The red flags of the past weeks and months evaporated and were replaced by the constant accolades and “atta-boys” we received from Sean and Lue. Man, I wanted that show. I wanted to be on TV. I wanted the work and effort on the OSIRIS to pay off. I wanted it so damn bad that I nearly forgot why I started this whole journey. The funny thing was, I never wanted this before. It wasn’t why I got into this. But somewhere, somehow, I took the wrong colored pill, and suddenly I was counting on the show. I could leave my job and just drive around the country in the OSIRIS with a film crew and do what I wanted to do…all without realizing this wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wanted to collect data and make discoveries — not conduct witness interviews and transport “metamaterials” and be an unwitting pawn in someone else’s story. Looking back, it felt like some kind of spell — as if my own desires, goals, and ambitions had been supplanted by those which were implanted artificially. It’s quite disgusting to me now. I don’t fully comprehend the -how- behind it… but it just feels artificial and forced. The next day, on January 28th, we had a full team zoom call. Jeff Seganski, James Fox, Scott Carlin, Lue Elizondo, Jake Mann, a few others, and myself — pitching the idea for the show. Key in on that word “pitching” because it was as if Jeff and Scott hadn’t even heard of this idea before we spoke. The pitch by Lue to Fox, Seganski, and the others was incredible. Not in the sense that I was impressed — but in the sense that I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Now, please keep in mind that at the time of the pitch, the OSIRIS was nothing more than a 23-year-old Land Rover with a single SkyHub and one camera. There was no custom programming, no special sensor package, and no extended capabilities past that of the single SkyHub — which wasn’t even working. Towards the beginning of the call, Lue described the OSIRIS as a “…mobile collection device that looks at Signals Intelligence, Imagery Intelligence, and Measurement Intelligence, and Electronics Emissions Intelligence, ELINT, in a condensed package that allows us to go out to remote locations, austere locations, hotspots, if you will, and begin to collect data.” Shortly after that, I believe it was either Jeff Seganski or Scott Carlin who said, (referencing the statement in the teaser trailer) “It seemed like you guys were heading to Rendalshim. Were you just going to put it on a boat and head over there?” to which Lue replied, “We could certainly do that.” So, right off the bat, my capabilities and reach and the OSIRS were being way over-sold… (Imagine the requirements for the importation of a vehicle into the UK, a vehicle rife with ITAR restrictions, and the subsequent process of attempting to get it back into the United States) This wasn’t oversold to just anyone — these were former heavy hitters from Sony, HBO, and other Hollywood powerhouses. I was not comfortable with this — but at this point, I still hadn’t had an opportunity to speak. Continuing in the conversation pitch, Lue began to talk about a ranch in New Mexico that he claimed he and Chris Mellon had been following very closely and called it “basically another Skinwalker that isn’t publicly known yet…and they have offered us to bring the OSIRIS capability there and start filming for TV…” This reference by Lue is touched on in that teaser trailer where he speaks of a ranch in New Mexico. After a few questions from the execs regarding the ranch, Sean Cahill speaks up and states, “It’s what we built this machine for, literally what we built it for.” Now, this is a bit of my ego showing through, but that was a bit of a kick in the pants for me. Sean didn’t have anything to do with the OSIRIS — he contributed no money, time, equipment, or effort to it, and here I am listening to his claim that “we” built it. I felt marginalized. At this point, Lue jumps back in and starts claiming how the OSIRIS could provide data collection for “…hyperspectral signatures, looking at radioactive/radiation signatures, you’re looking at a signature or the absence of signatures. It has the ability to take tri-meter, the electromagnetic noise that’s in an area, record all that, and cancel it all out to detect an anomaly.” WHAT?! No. No, and No. The singular camera I had was a Dahua 50232 fisheye camera. There were no capabilities for hyperspectral imaging — there was no equipment for detecting radioactive/radiation signatures, and there was absolutely no process, equipment, or ability to cancel anything out. What he said was a complete fabrication of capabilities. To compound the sensationalism, Lue further described the technology in the OSIRIS as having come from “a friend in the NSA” and how I “…managed to take an idea that is supposed to sit on top of a US Embassy or near an air base and made this thing completely mobile with multi-spectral capabilities…radiation detector, background noise cancelation, you name it.” For the record, the SkyHub was developed by a team of fantastic volunteers who came together for a common cause to develop an affordable device having the sole purpose of recording CCTV videos of potential UAP. This was NOT designed by the NSA, and it was never intended to “sit on top of a US Embassy” — and again, it certainly didn’t have any of the capabilities that Lue was claiming it to have. But it didn’t stop. Lue continued to over inflate, oversell, and make grandiose claims about the OSIRIS and its singular SkyHub by saying, “And Jeremy used the technology that we would use in the intelligence communities, so rather than some Ghost Busters approach that’s all sensationalized like something you’d see in Ghost Hunters, Jeremy took actual technology that we would use in the intelligence community to track, let’s say a North Korean ICBM missile coming in on re-entry, and stick that in the back of a Range Rover and build this thing.” Embarrassing. False. Inaccurate. Sensationalized. Over-hyped. Disingenuous. — And now I was placed in a position where I could either call him out in front of these top Hollywood executives and kill the entire deal, or I could just nod my head and hope I wasn’t asked for any confirmation. This was not the meeting I expected, and it certainly wasn’t anything I was comfortable with. At this point, Marc Barasch, the writer and co-producer of James Fox’s movie, “The Phenomenon,” began to speak and introduced himself by highlighting his involvement in documenting stories such as Roswell and his efforts with Ted Turner and his reach into the world of media as well as his involvement in remote sensing (technology, not woo) with satellite imagery from Maxar, the European Space Agency, ESRI, and blockchain applications that involved reforestation efforts identified through the remote sensing platforms with an AI/ML component that can identify areas that benefit from carbon sequestration. I mention this only because of the proliferation of disparate blockchain initiatives that seem to pop up inside the UFO topic as of late. I don’t know if there is any direct association, but this could be the genesis for some of those projects. The interesting thing is how (I believe it was Marc) drew the comparison to this film project to that of TTSA and said how TTSA didn’t have the fill of people around them to build the media business. While they had the intellectual capital, they were missing the entertainment expertise… “And you know what that got you, Lue.” Lue confirmed and responded with, “Absolutely, this is exactly what we see now, the capability to take what we could have done and turn it into reality, and this is why I think it’s so important that you have a chance to talk with these gentlemen now, not only just on the OSIRIS but our meeting afterward where we’re going to talk to the other individuals on the other verticals we discussed…the other IP, and turn this into truly a multimedia capability.” Other IP? Other individuals? TTSA? Other verticals? What is happening? Where was this going, and what the hell was I now involved with? This had gone 0 to 60 from Jake Mann and I discussing that it might be interesting to document the OSIRIS build and do some data collection to me having (non-existent) embassy guarding NSA hyperspectral and radiological technology to re-invent TTSA and become a multimedia push. This had no resemblance to anything that I had originally envisioned. Lue even stated that he had spoken with Chris Mellon that very day — stated that Chris was fully aware and supportive of what we were doing and expressed to the Hollywood execs that we weren’t doing this “in a vacuum” and that we had “Chris’ 100% blessing.” This really struck me as odd. Was this Lue further pushing the idea that the project has support from people of significance — did Hollywood need that reassurance — was this just posturing? Was there another reason for that interjection? To this day, I don’t know — but personally, I feel as if it was just chest-thumping. After being involved in a few TV shows and a movie, it certainly doesn’t appear to me that Hollywood really cares about whether former representatives of the USG support a production. At this point, I felt that any authenticity, honesty, and all the reasons I became first involved with the project had evaporated and were replaced with an artificial production designed for a very specific and (desired by others) payoff. The next serious concern I had with this conversation is how Lue offered up his knowledge and access to information from inside AATIP. Historically, Lue has always “left breadcrumbs” and then invoked his governmental NDA and security clearance. But what was about to happen next in this conversation would, in my mind, invalidate any idea that Lue Elizondo is restricted by an NDA relating to his time and work inside of AAWSAP, AATIP, UAPTF, or whatever abbreviation. “I’ve offered Sean and company the ability to take information that I had access to while at AATIP and translate that into new leads that I was never allowed to talk about before, like this ranch, like the meta-material in Ohio, and send them with a camera crew to actually collect it and then take it, for example, the material, and then take it to Jacque Vallee for real scientific analysis.” Full stop. FULL STOP. If Lue Elizondo was involved in a sanctioned program of the United States Government, is his offering of information he had access to violating National Security? Is it a violation of his NDA? Is this legal? Am I getting sucked into something that will land my ass in a black site prison in some country without a name? OR does this allude to the idea that AATIP wasn’t official, that there wasn’t any classified material, and that the idea of breadcrumbs and NDAs was all smoke and mirrors? I was now thinking that either Lue Elizondo ran a top-secret United States Government Program dealing in sensitive and classified data, which is under NDA and other governmental restrictions regarding its release — OR — that was all BS and amounted to that of just a social club of volunteers who were playing around and exchanging emails after hours… Putting two and two together, and seeing how he was volunteering information to “Sean and company” to have a TV camera crew follow us around, I had to accept the idea that nothing from AATIP would be classified or under an NDA, as I highly doubted that the USG would say, “Hey, you can’t talk about any of this or disclose any of this, UNLESS you get a sweet TV production deal — then let it all rip!” Another major issue I had with this whole debacle is my perception that it was not holding to my standard of truth. I felt it was seriously sensationalized, faked, and was to be produced (at no fault of Jake, Justin, or Dustin) in a way that did not hold integrity. What was about to come out of Lue Elizondo’s mouth truly solidified this thought for me. The discussion had taken a turn for the “business model” around the project — was it to be an episodic TV show, a mini-series, or a movie, and what would be the payoff — how could the Execs justify investment and know that there would be the cliff hanger and the “AH HA!” moment that keeps the viewers engaged. Lue really broke this down into a very detailed explanation of what was to happen: “Here’s where intelligence and due diligence come into play. I’m not going to send them to go get a Wrigley’s wrapper. I’m going to send them to a place to get material that I already know has been analyzed by somebody in the scientific community and there is something very interesting about it. It’s not a wild goose chase. Unfortunately, to some degree, I’m probably unfairly hedging our bets because I already know, to some degree, what may pay off and what doesn’t. At a minimum, there is enough interesting nuances associated with the material that anybody in the scientific community is gonna say “That’s interesting, I don’t know what that is, but that is interesting.” So, now I’m on the call, thinking I’m back to the previous issue. Is the data classified, and did it come from AATIP, or is this just a boys club with someone in Ohio holding a piece of something from a downed drone that was found — and all the Rendalshim story around it is fake? It seemed to me that Lue himself already knew it would turn out to be “interesting” but not definitively alien. Logic would tell me that this was 100% a set-up for television — and now I had my answer as to why I would be allowed to drive my truck with a Geico insurance policy to pick up potentially the world’s most valuable materials — because they weren’t. It was a glorified sham. My brain was screaming to drop the call and get out at that specific moment — but I heald on. I wasn’t ready to have the entire rug pulled from me. I mean, this was my truck, my original story to be documented by Jake. Perhaps I could salvage it and return it to the honest approach around the attempt to collect real data, not a formulaic approach to a TV show with falsified storylines. One of the other issues was this apparent overlap between what Lue had been previously working on with this group where he would go and investigate the phenomenon in South America, and the pitch of “Storm Chasers with UAP” that we were now discussing. This seemed to be why these execs agreed to the call, because of the previous conversations they had regarding the potential for a six-part series featuring Lue doing investigations — and they didn’t seem thrilled that we were potentially watering down the market of exclusivity. The remainder of this call continued to deteriorate to a point where the execs directly alluded to the fact that this wouldn’t get off the ground. Honestly, I was relieved. Even though (I believe it was Marc) who said, “To be very clear, this fits in perfectly with Phenomena Inc. This is exactly what this company is being set up and designed to do. You know, however, every venture, every content creation that gets put in and produced will vary.” Regardless, the conversation dwindled to the idea that we weren’t prepared and didn’t have storylines coherent enough to become an episodic TV show. Lue began to reiterate the ideas that there was enough material, from the material pickup in Ohio to him exploiting the fact that I had access to the adjoining property to Skinwalker and even to another material pickup in Missouri that hadn’t been previously mentioned; the interactions with Jacques Vallee and Hall Putoff — and even to the ability for “…us to tip this over to the dead zone in Mexico…where I have three other places from my time in ATIP where we could put this vehicle, for example, the Native Americans, the Crow people have some areas…with a long history of USOs coming out of the water.” — Then he goes on to say that he’s been asked to brief the Canadian government “next week, this is a fact, and the reason why is that the Manitoba province, in a Northern part of the Manitoba province, they’ve been having a lot of UAP activity to the point now it’s gotten to the MPs, and the MPs want me to give them a briefing on AATIP.” My heart actually skipped a beat on that statement, thinking that Lue Elizondo, an alleged former leader of a classified project inside the Pentagon, was going to provide a briefing to foreign nationals on that classified project. Again, how is this even possible? Is the briefing sanctioned by the USG, or didn’t they know? Was AATIP an actual US Government Program, or wasn’t it (thinking if it wasn’t, then that could explain how he could talk to foreign nationals about it — if it were, then he would either need USG permission or he -was- still the permitting authority.) I was very confused. I am still very confused. I could actually imagine Lue reaching through the computer and attempting to remote view the execs in the future to tell them how successful the show had become… I feel lucky that the HBO-Max pitch ended the way it did. My interpretation of the severe uphill climb we would face to get a show provided the right opportunity at the right time to finally step out of the control I now feel I was under. Back at my house, reflecting on everything, all the red flags, all the embellishments, all the sensationalism, everything that Lue did to me, the apparent lies I was told…it all came together in my mind, and I decided to leave the project finally. There wasn’t any more team building, no more calls with Hollywood executives, just a period of calm where I could process everything in my own rite and analyze, without interruption, what the hell the last year had been. On February 5th, 2021, I sent Sean a text message saying, “I’m doing this without the film crew. This isn’t what it was supposed to be…Ever since we left Wyoming — I’ve been treated as a pariah and placed in the corner with a “good bot, sit” command. I was doing this for me. I was doing this to get answers. I was doing this to help my own mentality. But when I’m treated externally, the way I feel internally — it’s time for me to choose a different path.” The “internal and external” comment was the beginning of my ability to express how I was suffering from depression, PTSD, and how I felt I was being manipulated and controlled. After a few inconsequential texts between Sean and me and a day later, he stated, “So, if you figure you wanna go to the playground and scrap it out, I have the house to myself, pls call. Tomorrow I’m making business calls I can’t undo. This ain’t a threat; it’s a lifeline. Your call…I need you to be decisive.” On February 6th, 2021, at 7:56 pm, I called Sean and told him that I was absolutely out of the project and wouldn’t participate in it in any way, shape, or form. Sean then launched into the most aggressive, hateful, and incomprehensible tirade of words I’ve not heard since perhaps my Drill Sergeant in Basic Training. I had the phone on speaker, and my wife listened with her mouth wide open, nearly in shock from the screaming on the other side of the line. I wondered if Sean would pass out from a lack of oxygen in his apparent failure to breathe. I never found out as I hung up when I heard him say that I “…simply have to accept the fact that I’m your fucking boss in this, and you will do what I tell you to.” Oh, how I long for the days where you could slam the phone in a rage-quit episode of a call — now, hitting the big red hang-up button on a touch screen just doesn’t have the same cathartic effect. I’ve not spoken a word to Sean since that day. On Feb 22nd, 2021, after taking a break and simply relaxing, spending time with my wife, and generally feeling as if a giant weight had been lifted, guilt hit me square in the chest for the one thing I felt responsible for. Jake Mann had put approximately $17,000 of his personal money into the project. I reached out to Jake Mann and explained everything that happened. I shared all of my concerns, though not nearly as formulated with the benefit of hindsight as they are now, and I explained to him the exchanges between myself and Sean. For those of you wanting verification, feel free to contact Jake and ask — but I offered to continue to participate in the project in a limited role until he was at least able to recover his initial investment. Jake was appreciative, and we talked about how, if a show was created, I could show up for the initial episode, and they could develop an arc for why I left the show. But ultimately, a show never happened, and I never needed to show up. Jake and I still occasionally exchange texts. Recently, he felt the need to create a Twitter thread in my defense, clarifying the issues around my departure from the project. A fictitious and hurtful rumor circulated on Twitter — propagated by some of Lue’s ardent supporters, apostles, acolytes, and fanatics. These accounts were spreading lies, saying that I was fired from the project; others said I was driving drunk during the filming, and others even said I had almost killed Lue in a vehicle fire. Jake posted the following tweet explaining how he was the producer and that I simply left the project — yet the hate and vitriol still comes in nearly daily, accusing me of some of the most ridiculous things you can imagine. In the tweet, Jake even verified my willingness to continue in the project as mentioned previously: After leaving the project completely, and after a month or so of reflection, I began to be a bit vocal in my dissatisfaction with Lue, having seen firsthand his tactics and approach with me, the project, and HBO Max — and seeing what I felt was an extension of those same behaviors in the media, podcasts, and Twitter, I began to call them out. This caused me to become an instant pariah on Twitter. I was nearly a lone voice speaking out about what I felt were disingenuous statements, claims, and behaviors. I NEEDED to let people know that things were not what they seemed. I felt a kind of responsibility. Having built the OSIRIS to search for truth, finding the truth inside of UFOlogy was becoming my new crusade — however, I had no support structure, no one else had seen what I had seen or experienced what I experienced, and my claims were received as those of a lunatic — accusing the leader of the disclosure movement with unethical behavior, manipulations, disinformation, sensationalism, and what I perceived as lies. I had no wingman — no confidant — no one to validate what I was saying, and my speaking up, with the hate, attacks, threats, vitriol, lies, and rants, took another mental toll on me. The attacks were constant, non-stop — and often involved my family, my kids, and my wife. People contacted my employer and attempted to get me fired. Others contacted DISA and attempted to get my security clearance revoked. It was an onslaught of hate. Pure, unadulterated hate. I was drowning, and I couldn’t catch my breath. My personal number was leaked on Reddit — I received death threats and filed reports with Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. To this day, I am targeted by fanatics or those who have swallowed the Blue Lue Pill and believe he is the Messiah of disclosure. Nearly five to six times a day, I am still harassed and targeted by new Twitter accounts with only a handful of followers and established members of #Ufotwitter — it’s an army of minions who have made me their target. To this day, UAPx receives numerous tweets, direct messages, and emails from people attempting to have me removed from the group. In full disclosure, I’ve often offered up my resignation to the board of UAPx. The constant barrage of targeted hate I receive takes a toll, certainly. Each time I’ve taken the temperature of the UAPx board, I’ve been told to fully ignore all aspects of social media and continue to do what I do for the team. Yet, I can’t help but feel guilty for the negative associations I’ve apparently brought to UAPx. UAPx is in one of the most difficult positions of any organization — fighting against a continuing stigma, the fact that none of us are paid, the understanding that the company has no revenue, and attempting to balance both the ideas of work/life with that of increasing the exposure of the company without compromising ideals, values, ethics, and science. I’ve often felt that my presence (confirmed by many DMs, Emails, Calls, and Actions of others) within UAPx is an unneeded distraction and a hindrance to the organization’s progress. To that, I -today- pinged the UAPx board and affiliates to ask for honest feedback on my performance and contributions to the organization. The following are the responses I received: 1-From Dr. Cecilia Levy, Ph.D., Physics: Granted, I haven’t known you for that long, but I pride myself on being a very good judge of character. You are the rare kind of person who will tell you what you need to hear. The issue with this is that most people don’t like that; they want to be enabled, so that creates friction. But the hard truth is that it’s because of people like you that this field has any chance of actually doing something real and tangible. You don’t make progress by enabling whatever crackpot comes around. Your goal is always clear: the proper advancement of UAP studies through serious scientific and ethical principles. You are an asset to UAPx; there is no question there. You don’t have a Ph.D., but you’ve got to be one of the most technically adept people I’ve ever met. It seems you can build anything out of nothing. The dedication and motivation it takes to build something like the OSIRIS on a very limited budget is impressive. Your insights on sensors and instruments are always spot on. I personally have great respect for you. We need more yous in the world…(although the world might not be ready for that!) 2-From Dr. Matthew Szydagis, Ph.D., Physics: You are an incredibly valued member of the UAPx team, and it’s not just about the OSIRIS: it is about your mind and the skill sets you bring to the table, both administrative and anti-woo/skeptical, despite not being a scientist yourself. I have heard secondhand through other UAPx team members that they were told you are a “liability,” and they were asked why you are still on the team. I find these rumors/stories disheartening because I have never had a moment of doubt myself as to your value to UAPx. 3- From Gary Voorhis, President, UAPx: I first became interested Jeremy McGowan when I ran into his profile for Osiris. I then looked him up and read whatever came up about him on a quick google search. At the time, we were talking to a movie producer about what is now our documentary. I had yet to even speak with Jeremy. As fate would have it, I would get ahold of Jeremy, talk with him, and see what he was about. He was bold, straightforward, and kind of a dick. I liked him immediately. I told him about UAPx and invited him to engage with us. I found out he had worked with Lue and Sean, so I wanted to vet him and called and messaged both to ask about him. Lue didn’t have much to say other than they had a falling out and that he hoped any future endeavors for him worked out. Sean told me I should not have any dealing with him and that he had fucked them all over. I then contacted a 3rd and 4th party with a different take on things, and I thought, well, what then hell I liked him; I will take the chance. That is when the thing fell into place. As it happened, the same producer we were talking to had also started talking to Jeremy, and I then used that as the catalyst to try to get Jeremy to join the team officially. He eventually joined, and then we made the official announcement through the movie. Since then, I have enjoyed endless hours of camaraderie and mentorship. When I took on the role of President of UAPx, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. Jeremy has been there shoulder to shoulder day after day. He has had my back and continues to do so. Life is messy, and I would rather have 100 McGowans telling it straight than one boot licker. He is a top performer in UAPx and has given me everything to make us successful. I could not do it without him. I am truly grateful he chose to stay with my little company, and I count him as one of my true friends. I will let you know that it is not a long list. So, in conclusion, I, Gary P. Voorhis Jr., think very highly of Jeremy McGowan I don’t know many what would be so ridiculously articulate one minute but be able to tell someone to eat a bag a dicks the next. I don’t find this, particularly a bad thing. I enjoy that when pushed, he does not fold. Over the few years I have known him, I have received a ton of pushback due to his brash personality, and I honestly don’t give a damn. He has earned his place in my company and as my friend. He may be a son of bitch sometimes, but he is our son of a bitch. I want to express my sincere gratitude for the faith that the UAPx team places in me. Your words help counter the daily attacks, vitriol, and hate I am subjected to daily. Your respect, willingness to work with me, and the fact that I see direct results from my contributions to the team provide a sense of belonging and accomplishment in a very organic, natural, and non-manipulative way — and I appreciate that more than you can ever know. I apologize to them for any distractions I seem to bring to the organization and stand ready to withdraw my position on the board should they ever become insurmountable. UAPx will succeed with or without me. Suppose my presence becomes an ACTUAL liability to the organization and not just the target of social media trolls. In that case, I will withdraw so that UAPx can concentrate on what really matters — the search for truth. As I mentioned previously, I do feel that the most militant and ardent supporters of Lue, “Papa Lue” to many of them, should be given a bit of a pass — even in light of their constant belittlement and attacks upon myself and others. They may well not fully realize their actions’ reasons or results. Every decision, action, and effort has second and third-order consequences…outcomes that are different from the first desired outcome yet are directly related to the initial decision — when one is “under a spell,” so to speak, one tends to be oblivious to fully understanding the consequences. END This marks the end of Part 4 of my five-part series of articles. In the following weeks, I will begin to write and publish the final article. Once I finish this series, I sincerely hope I’ve advanced people’s desire for actionable truth. It’s not enough to trust. It’s not enough to believe. Part 5 will detail my involvement with UAPx, where I am now, and what comes next. Until then, dear reader. Go outside, look up, and watch your back because no one watches out for you better than yourself at the end of the day…unless you happen to be part of UAPx.