When the Government Lies: Aliens, Assassinations and Classified Ops (COMPILATION)

I'm Richard Serrett. Join me on Strange Planet for in-depth conversations with the world's top paranormal investigators, alien abductees, bigfoot trackers, monster hunters, time travelers, and more. The handler one day told her this whole thing about how they've been terraforming on Mars, and they're building a colony and they're recruiting specific people as specific bloodlines and specific talents and skill sets to go onto the planet. On Richard Serrett's Strange Planet, we're redefining reality. Listen now, wherever you get your podcasts. Every now and then, someone would die. Risk. True stories. No holding back. It comes up behind me, and Whisper's right in the air. Nobody knows where you are. And nobody can hear you scream. Some of these stories will make you laugh till you're crying. And then I realize, I'm unconscious. Some will stick with you for life. They catch my mom, poisoning my sister. My brother, he died at the hands of my mother. I said, "Mike, don't make me shoot your place." But he did. People say risk makes them feel less alone and more alive. During my time in prison, I discovered a podcast called Risk. That podcast saved my life so many times. Live your authentic truth because you never know who may come to your funeral and turn that bitch out. Risk. The show where people tell true stories, they never thought they dared to share. Wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, welcome to another WIFIOS compilation. Today, more stories about how your government is behaving badly. We've got secret military operations, alien treaties, CA, cover-ups, time travel, and a couple of assassinations. So, you know, Friday. First up. No, you haven't. Did you write that? Yeah, Council has advised me to not answer that. Who's your council? Excuse me. The honorable Dame Goatry T. Pemberton Elfayet, Esquia J.D. P.H.D., King's Council. The story of the vacuum wreckage, plenty of potential area of Asia by shan, keep up the seal of now. Worn to the Iptikura, formerly of Abu Dhabi, and Inspector of Jipudi. Court appointed pro bono. She's a camel. Don't be disrespectful. I also, you're being called as a witness. No, I'm not. I council. Note the humans reluctant to testify under oath. As she says, that's what someone would say. Our first episode takes us to Bulgaria, 1990. Something was detected deep underground near a small village. Something that terrified the soldiers, said to find it. Villagers reported strange lights, unexplained illnesses, and equipment failures. The military sealed the site and classified everything. This is Operation Sunray. You've got weight loss goals, but actually hitting them? That's where things fall apart. Conflicting advice, complicated plans, it's a mess. 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Plus, you'll get 24/7 access to your care team, along with in-app support that includes meal plans, recipes, fitness guidance, sleep content, everything you need to stay on track. Ready to reach your goals? Visit hymns.com/thewifiles to get a personalized, affordable plan that gets you. That's h-i-m-s.com/thewifiles. hymns.com/thewifiles. To get started and learn more, including important safety information, we'll go to clinical study information and restrictions, visit hymns.com. In early December 1990, military vehicles and heavy machinery flooded to reach Nia, a small village in Bulgaria. Soldiers set up a perimeter as workers started digging. This was Operation Sunray. In the 11th century, Tsar Samuel of Bulgaria buried huge amounts of gold and treasure somewhere under the village. The goal of Operation Sunray was to find the treasure and return the struggling nation to glory. But that was just the cover story. Colonel Peter Canada, that a few officers knew the truth. There was no treasure. They were after something far more valuable. Object number one. Some said it was the lost Ark of the Covenant. Others said it was advanced alien technology that could bend space-time. Whatever it was, it was buried deep underground near the village. Canada thought the mission was a long shot. How is he supposed to find some object underground when nobody knew exactly what it was or where to find it? Get no idea that object number one knew they were coming. And it wanted to be found. As Operation Sunray began, Drichinia's quiet nights were shattered by round the clock digging. It was December in Bulgaria and the soil was like cement. The treasure story didn't add up. Why so many soldiers? What's with the hazmat suits? Locals were told there was nothing to be afraid of, but something felt off. Colonel Canada have led the project and brought in a few other officers. But once stood out, Colonel Delcho Napolitanov, a scientist specializing in advanced technology and paranormal research. Whenever the military faced something unexplainable, they called him. Oh, he sounds like one of the ghostbusters. From which movie? There was only one ghostbusters movie and I'll hear no more about it. Fine. Anyway, Napolitanov was in charge of all scientific aspects of the project. And it was a good thing he was a paranormal investigator. As soon as the digging began, strange things started happening, equipment that had worked fine suddenly behaved erratically. As the weeks passed, soldiers grew more anxious. They felt a presence that grew stronger the deeper they went. They sensed that someone or something didn't want them there. Colonel Canada have dismissed their fears as superstition to many Bulgarian folk tales growing up, though he didn't admit it, he couldn't deny there were things happening that he couldn't explain. The villagers also experienced strange phenomena. Glowing spheres hovered above the dig site, moving information as if guided by intelligence. The air around to reach neocrackled with a static electricity, and then the humming started. At first it was a faint vibration barely noticeable, but every day it got stronger. It was a very low frequency, not quite audible, but it caused headaches, nausea, insomnia, and a general feeling of dread. People heard whispering, and they started seeing things. Shadows in the corner of their eyes, but when they turned to look, nothing was there. Nothing except that feeling, they weren't welcome in this place. The mood darkened further when a young lieutenant disappeared. He went to check the perimeter and never returned. A search party scoured the area, but he was gone. Nobody was found. Descretely, Colonel Napolitanov told Canav, "There were dark forces at work. If they were going to locate object number one, they had to take this seriously." Napolitanov was a paranormal researcher, but he was also a serious scientist and a Colonel, Canav trusted him. The situation with the soldiers, villagers, and workers was getting out of hand. Conventional methods failed. Canav turned to an unconventional solution. He brought in psychics. One was world famous for accurate predictions. She was called the modern-day Nostradamus. When the Bulgarian military runs out of options, who are you going to call? They called Baba Vanga. "Oh, they called in Chanwick." You just stepped on my cliffhanger. "I'm sorry, I got excited. They say Baba Vanga can kill three men with a f***ing piencil." No, they called Chanwick Baba Yaga. Baba Vanga was a famous Bulgarian psychic. "A f***ing piencil." Operation Sunray was unraveling. Equipment malfunctions, shadowy figures, voices, and a missing soldier left Colonel Canav grasping its draws. But calling in psychics just made his men more anxious. Marina Napolitanova, the Colonel's daughter, and a well-known psychic arrived first. "Yeah, how he brought in a Nepo baby, huh?" No, she really was a well-known psychic. "Yeah, convenient that his cake gets the gig." You want to know what's in the hole or not? Her reputation was built on a series of accurate predictions about political events, including the fall of the Berlin Wall. - Fine, fine, you happy? Yes, I wanna know what's in the hole. It might be a baby seal feed as a Sutton. Please continue. - As a child, Marina's visions were dismissed as an overactive imagination until they started coming true. Now her memories came flooding back. As a girl, she had visions of this place and this very moment. She made telepathic contact with ancient entities called the Guardians. They warned her that something dangerous was buried here that should never be disturbed. Then Marina felt another presence. Older, darker. It wanted something from her. Ellie, Logan over, arrived next. She was in contact with an ancient being one of the first humans on Earth. Ellie was. - Well, well, well, well, hold up. - What? - You can't just say you wanted to first humans on Earth and continue like that's not important. I thought the first humans were like monkeys or whatever. No, they were told the humans were created by ultra-terrestrials. - Extra-terrestrials? - Ultra-terrestrials. - What I say. - ETs are aliens. UTs exist in a dimension we can't perceive. They genetically engineered early humans. - Yeah, new Nike. - Yeah, it kind of lines up with that story. Ellie was shown visions of ancient humans with advanced technology, fighting an entity of darkness. - Who won the battle? - Don't get ahead of me. - Sorry, I'm excited. This story is my kind of bananas. - Ellie saw a massive underground structure, a portal under Torichnia linking our world to others and powerful beings were warning her, stop digging. But like Marina, Ellie felt pulled into directions. One entity begged her to turn back, another promised ancient knowledge if she would just go forward. But it was the words of Babavanga, who shook the team. - Believe it, buried. The truth about the origins of humanity is a burden too heavy for mortal minds to bear. Do not seek answers to questions we were never meant to ask. There are truths that belong only to the gods. To seek them is to invite your own destruction. Man was not meant to know everything. There is wisdom in ignorance and safety in silence. Drawing Babavanga's attention made the soldiers feel even worse. They knew her predictions came true. - Turn back now while you still can. These truths are better left forgotten. He didn't deep within the earth. If you dare to uncover them, only death will follow. - Several psychics, including one of the most famous in the world, was warning the team to turn back. But the colonel had a mission to accomplish. He wasn't going anywhere. But he should have listened to her because Babavanga was right again. (dramatic music) Marina directed the excavation, having workers dig a long spiral tunnel deeper into the earth. The ground seemed alive, responding to them, helping them even. Their equipment now worked perfectly. They didn't realize they were no longer in control. Marina and Ellie's visions began to synchronize. The Guardians Marina saw were protecting the portal that Ellie saw, and behind it was an ancient evil presence in prison for thousands of years. They were getting closer and they could feel it. Conflicted by warnings to stop, and entities urging them forward with promises of truth, they shared their thoughts with Colonel Kenev. He didn't care about portals or aliens or interdimensional beings. He just wanted to find object number one. The soldiers retired. They felt like Marina had them digging a giant circle until Marina said, "Here." Ellie heard a voice say, "Do not continue. What lies beyond is not your kind." Then she had a vision of a large rectangular stone emitting a soft blue light. Find the stone, find the truth. They dug, five feet down, nothing. 10 feet down, still nothing. The soldiers were exhausted and skeptical, but the women insisted something was there. 15 feet, nothing. 20 feet, they hit something solid. They cleared the soil and saw a stone barrier carved perfectly smooth and was gently vibrating. Marina knew the Guardians put this barrier here for a reason, but she couldn't resist. She had to know what was behind it. But their tools were useless. They couldn't even chip the thing, and going around it wasn't an option. It seemed to cover the entire area, like a shell. Or a cage. Right. Colonel kind of said the mission had to continue. He ordered explosives. This is a terrible idea. The detonation shook the earth. Dust hung in the air for what felt like forever. But when it finally cleared, they saw they had broken through the barrier. But this only created another unsettling mystery. They'd uncovered an entrance to a dark spiral tunnel descending deep into the earth. This was not a natural formation. Its walls were smooth and polished. Steps were carved into the tunnel floor. Soldiers, workers, and officers stared in awe and terror. Marina was quiet and still. Her eyes followed the steps down, down to lay disappeared into the darkness. Without looking up, she said, "It's awake." Marina Napolitanova stood at the top of the staircase staring into the void. The whispers in her mind became screams. Her childhood visions had come true, leading her to this moment. The guardians were terrified, begging her to stay away. But she felt compelled to go, as if she were being dragged there. Eliloganova felt the same pressure from the ultra-trust real beings. Then she remembered something Babavanga said about what she would find. - You will find a yellow monkey, neither man, nor woman in a capsule. If you open it, the air might revive it. And what will you do when it starts talking? She had seen the chamber in a vision, a shell made of rounded metal with markings on it. Inside was something extremely powerful and important. The beings begged her to turn back, but Eliloganova had no choice. Ancient knowledge was down there. She took the first step. Marina followed. The footsteps echoed as they descended. The uneasy soldiers looked at each other. Every instinct told them to stay put. This wasn't what they signed up for, but orders or orders. So down they went, a few more soldiers followed. They walked cautiously down the steps into the darkness. They didn't know it at the time, but they weren't coming back. The smooth walls of the tunnel were covered in symbols they didn't recognize. They weren't sloppy scratches and stone, but the liberate and precise, as if carved with a tool. Scientists later said they resembled ancient kineiform, but they were much older than anything ever found on Earth. The soldiers crept down the spiral staircase weapons raised. The air got heavier and colder. Their flashlights were flickering candles. They couldn't penetrate the darkness. They didn't feel like they were being watched. They knew it. Marina was bombarded with chaotic commands from the entity growing stronger with each step. She tried to resist, but was powerless. Elil was also struggling. She saw ancient people performing rituals here to seal the portal. The symbols on the walls were changing, and she wondered if she was the only one who could see it. The rest of the team was on edge. Shadows flickered at the edges of their vision never quite in focus. The walls seemed to shift. They were disoriented, unsure if they were going straight or in circles. Colonel Kannev, the skeptic, was experiencing something he hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. Halfway down, the staircase opened into a chamber. The air had the sickening sweet smell of death and decay. One of the soldiers swung his flashlight and caught a reflection. Set in the wall was a large rectangular slab of stone glowing with blueish light. The stone was an intentional barrier. They all felt it. But as they got closer, the light revealed something more disturbing. The stone was alive. The group cautiously approached the glowing stone, covered in thick, slimy, pulsing organisms. Marina reached out, but Ellie held her back. This was the stone from her vision. The organisms were aware of them. They reacted to them. They warned them to turn back. The Marina felt eyes on her and turned. In the far wall was a thin, humanoid figure bigger than any man, with long limbs and sharp alien features. Its red skin emitted a faint glow. The guardians had warned her. It was the sentinel. Though fused with the wall, it was alive and watching. Nobody knew what to do. They looked at Marina. But she was lost in the Sentinels' caves. Then came the first death. A young soldier suddenly collapsed, convulsing violently before falling still, his eyes frozen wide in a final moment of terror. The men panicked. They were spinning around shouting and aiming their weapons searching for a target. Colonel Khan have tried to calm them, and then another man felt, and then another. Ellie sensed the entity's satisfaction, feeding off their fear. Marina walked slowly toward the sentinel, armed, outstretched. Ellie called out, but Marina just kept walking. As she approached the sentinel, there was a rumble somewhere deep in the ground, getting louder and closer, and suddenly the entire cavern was trembling and men struggled to stay on their feet. Khan had was surprised when he heard himself order a retreat. With object number one was here, he wanted no part of it, orders be damned. He shouted to fall back, but the staircase had vanished. The room had shifted somehow. Nothing looked familiar, except for the glowing blue slab. That was still there. That was the only way out. He ordered his men to put charges on it. "It doesn't this guy learn every time he blows something up, things get worse." "Nope. Ellie was screaming no, but that was just in her mind. She didn't make a sound. She sent something behind the stone and she had to see it." Marina touched the wall near the sentinel. She looked into its eyes and saw the move, watching her. Then its eyes looked up, passed her. Marina turned and saw the men setting up explosives. She started to call to them to warn them, and then there was a flash of light. Marina didn't hear the blast, but she felt it. Once the dust settled, the team rushed to the stone, praying it had been destroyed. It hadn't. It was cracked, but not broken through. And it wasn't empty. They had broken the seal. The trap was set, and they walked right into it. Canne than the remaining men rushed toward the breach, stumbling over bodies. The blue stone was cracked, pulsing with blinding light. And it was a smooth metal chamber. Whatever was trapped inside was now awake and angry. There was an energy field humming around it. One man got too close and was thrown across the chamber and crushed against the cavern wall. Soldiers opened fire, but bullets couldn't get through. Then a black mist started pouring out, and there was the smell of sulfur. Some clotted their throats, grasping for air, before collapsing one by one. Marina felt her knees overwhelmed by chaotic visions of death, or was it reality? She couldn't distinguish one from the other. A soldier rushed over and grabbed her arm to help, and he was dead before he hit the ground. Canne's mind raced. His heart pounding in his ears. He had to find a way out. Who doesn't people went in, and there were now what, six or seven left? Ellie stood over the broken stone, staring at the capsule Boba Vanga warned about. It was covered in symbols she didn't recognize. Then a flash of light transported her to a bright, quiet place. The symbols floated before her, and she understood everything. They told a story of creation. Of beings beyond the stars, would come to Earth long ago, bringing knowledge of civilization. To design our DNA and guide our development, a truth we were never meant to know. The capsule contained a creature that wasn't quite human, and wasn't quite an animal. It wasn't male or female, it wasn't anything, but it was everything. The creature was the seed, the starting point. Its DNA was part of the recipe that created homo sapiens. That's why it was hidden and protected by all these violent forces. This device could be used to create anything from a man to a monster. It could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Ellie realized the blue stone was more than a barrier. It was a warning. A distant voice whispered, "It's us." Kenneth grabbed Ellie who was in a daze and mumbling "It's us" over and over again. He realized it too late. The entity wasn't protecting the capsule, it was using it as bait. The entire dig was a trap. Another man fell. Kenneth, fighting against the pulling mist, grabbed marine and Ellie, dragging them toward what he desperately hoped was the exit. The tunnel was twisted, everything around him was distorted and chaotic. Kenneth was sure he was losing his mind. Every step was agony, and then he heard it. The entity laughing in his mind, urging him to let go. The voice promised peace, knowledge and truth if he'd just let go. And he wanted to. He almost gave in when he saw a thin strip of light. The entrance, still open, still reachable, he pushed harder. The entity's grip weakened as they neared the light. Finally, Kenneth and the few survivors spilled out onto the cold ground. The tunnel sealed itself behind them as the scream of the entity's rage slowly faded. The marina was unconscious, her mind shattered. Ellie was trembling and still muttering, "It's us, it's us." Kenneth coughed and tasted sulfur as he gasped for air. He stared at the sealed entrance. The entity was still in there, waiting for the next fool to take the bait. Kenneth gave the orders, no more digging, no more object number one, no more mission. The entity claimed 18 lives, bodies that would never come home. He called for cement mixtures to fill the hole with every bit of concrete they had. The Zarechina hole, once a site for discovery and hope, had become a place of horror. Kenneth felt lucky that a few had escaped. But the entity wasn't finished with them just yet. On December 6, 1990, the Bulgarian military launched a secret mission in Zarechina, the hunt for alien artifacts that dug a hole 200 feet deep and over 500 feet long. The work continued steadily for almost two years. Then on November 19, 1992, the military suddenly gathered their people, tents, and equipment, and poured concrete into the hole, sealing it forever. Operation Sunray was over, but its effects lingered. UFO sightings increased, glowing spheres returned, strains threatening notes appeared around town. They also experienced psychological trauma and physical illness. The reports of poltergeists, energy fields, cryptid sightings, strange weather, time distortions, and bad luck. "It covers just about everything except for maybe crab circles." Oh, those happened too. "Well, this place has got more weird stuff than Mount Shasta or Mount Mother's Days." It's either the most paranormal place on earth, or it's not. Most details of the Zarechina story come from Colonel Cannes Book, the Zarechina Phenomenon. "There's always a book." There's always a book. He talked about the energy fields, the alien technology, and the metal object that blinded them with light. "Blind it by the light, with it like it used another runner in a knife." "Blind it by the light." After his book was published in 1992, the story evolved, with new details replacing the old ones. Today was a moderate version. Some people get really creative with this one. Hundreds of podcasts, videos, and articles about the Zarechina whole incident are floating around. All tell a different story. All tell a good story. None of them are the truth. Here's what really happened. "And thousands of people just left to go watch a different video." General Radnew Minchev was convinced by psychics that Zar Samuel's treasure was hidden under Zarechina. Nobody bothered to check that at the time, but Zarechina was part of the Byzantine Empire, making it unlikely they'd find any treasure there. But Elie Luganova was convincing. She channeled a super intelligent being named Roro who confirmed the visions and promised to guide them. "Well, did you just say Roro?" "Yep, that was the name of the interdimensional being talking to Elie. Roro." "I guess, you think a super intelligent hyperdimensional being would have a cooler name than the way Scooby Doo says that, oh." Minchev suffering from prolonged cancer at the time was in a weakened state and vulnerable to influence. Plus, in 1990 Bulgaria was chaos. The psychics convinced him that this operation would bring glory to Bulgaria, so he approved it and launched Operation Glory. "Well, Operation Glory, a little bit of sunbeam, sunray, life beam, star beam, moonshine." Well, Kanaev's book calls it sunbeam, but eventually it became sunray, but officially it was Operation Glory. Colonel Naplotanova was put in charge, but he didn't trust the psychics. He felt that they were using the general. "I thought Kanaev was in charge." No, Karyol Kanaev was just a researcher. The internet might be confusing him with General Dinev, who was in charge of the logistics, but Kanaev wasn't even there. Yet in his book he claims he was, and portrays himself as a hero. As soon as Colonel Naplotanova's daughter Marina was brought in, they both started having headaches and feeling sick, because Colonel Naplotanova was against the operation. and very vocal about it, he believed that he and his daughter were being targeted by a psychotronic weapon. Did you just make that weird up? No, psychotronic weapons influence someone's mind and behavior. The Colonel said that he and his daughter were being targeted by a weapon developed by the Soviets. They were being told to jump off a building. He suspected that General Minchev was ordering the attacks. Midway through the project, Marina left, and shortly after, she jumped off a ten-story building. "Wow, you're kidding me!" Afterward, the Colonel lost it and filed a formal complaint with the Ministry of Defense. He blamed General Minchev and then left the project. His complaint reads like a man losing his mind. The military tried to have him committed for these wild allegations. 18 months later, he jumped off a bridge. "There is no such thing as a coincidence." There's not. But those are the only juicy parts of the story. That's it, the dig didn't turn up anything, and it came under public scrutiny. A commission was sent to investigate and they were not impressed. The geologist on the team, Dr. Gifko Ivanov, testified the only thing he found odd was the military was hiring psychics. "There are no materials of non-natural origin. No radiation, no gas, no danger for the population of the area. Psychic guides a time to suggest the presence of some supernatural corridor or a passage and a complicated search for an object for which there is no data." He was asked what about all the strange activity in the area. The idea that the area was prone to catastrophe is false. Nothing like this is known to us. What we do know is that a lot of government money disappeared during this project. Millions of dollars. Many witnesses said this project was a scam perpetrated by General Minchev. They got caught, the project was shut down in a hurry, and all documents were destroyed. When the Soviet Union collapsed, the entire Eastern bloc fell apart. Bulgaria's communist government ended in November 1990, and the Democratic Constitution wasn't passed until July 1991. So for a year, there was essentially no government in Bulgaria. With no law, the powerful took advantage. Operation glory was launched just a few weeks after the communist government fell. The same people who were always in charge when there's no democracy. The guys with the most guns. Right, military leaders with troops and weapons at their disposal, like General Minchev. Corruption was rampant in Bulgaria during this time. It still is. Bulgaria is notorious for having crooked politicians, judges, and law enforcement at the highest levels. It's still like that today. "Oh, Bulgaria should look at the United States. Our legal system provides equal justice for all. Our federal law enforcement agencies are incorruptible. The FBI's leadership exemplifies honor and integrity and an unwavering difference in respect for the Constitution of these great United States." "Are you being sarcastic?" "I'm being sarcastic!" Now, on this channel, we have nothing but respect for the agents and officers in the field. "True, fair enough, but their bosses are more crooked than a dog's hind leg." "That was a weird metaphor?" "Well, we were talking about crooked cops, so I think I got that one from Sherif Rasko Picotrain." "I was more of an enus fan." Elgi Loganova is still around, and she tells a version similar to the one in Cannes Book. She had four notebooks that documented everything, the proof, but they were confiscated by the military. And now she's selling her own book, could be talks about the story. "It's always a book." So, Operation Sunray, Lightbeing, Glory, people were there. Whether or not you believe these things happen to them is up to you. But before you make a decision, here's something. In 1981, the Bulgarians launched the Goliamo-Gradish expedition in the mountains near the border with Turkey. At Goliamo, they were searching for buried treasure, but they were really looking for ancient artifacts or alien technology. They brought psychics with them. They were told the location by Bobavanga. "Yes, Piantio." They had an encounter with aliens and dark forces, a couple of people died, some managed to escape, they sealed the cave and left in a hurry, and that project was also covered up. I listen to lots of podcasts about how the people in the area feel like there's a special energy there. It's a paranormal hotspot, there's a vortex, it's on a ley line, all that stuff. That may be what the young people say because it's fun, but the older folks who were there for the dig said nothing strange happened and they'd like to be left alone. But they never will be. Stories like this resonate because we know there's more to reality than we understand, so we keep asking questions. But it warns us we might not like the answers, and some mysteries are better left unsolved. This story has been told forever, Tandoor's box, the Tower of Babel, Faust, the Fisher King, the Matrix, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. She wants to give us a gift. The three-body problem? All the stories about pushing boundaries in search of hidden knowledge that lead to unintended and often disastrous consequences. This is a theme that's going to keep turning up until we finally understand the universe and are placed in it. That's going to take a while. So we're going to keep seeing variations of this classic story again and again. And you know what? That's fine with me. Just leave Indiana Jones alone. Whatever the Bulgarian military found down there, they didn't want anyone to know about it. The soldiers involved were sworn to secrecy, and the files disappeared for decades. Next is episode 187. In the 1960s and 70s, the CIA allegedly rat a classified program that used teleportation and time travel technology. Reverse engineered from Nikola Tesla's research, and they recruited children to test it. One of those kids. What did you do to my living room? I'm full of preceding address to cheer. The chair is a beaver. Stay your name for the record. I played this fit. Are you or are you not a goldfish? I played this fit. Did you eat breakfast this morning? I played this fit. Yeah, council. Yeah, she says I'm doing great. You've been in session four minutes. Order! Order! Order! Or I will have you remove. This is Project Pegasus. In 1968, a six-year-old boy stepped through a shimmering curtain of light and vanished. When Andrew Bashaglo's vision cleared, he was no longer in an empty airplane hangar in New Jersey. He was standing in a muddy field. He'd practiced this moment for weeks. Walk to the crowd, find the platform, observe, memorize, report back. Andrew weaved his way between soldiers and civilians, but his oversized shoes kept sticking in the mud. He finally made it to the front, and then he saw it. A tall man and a black coat climbed onto the platform and removed his hat. The crowd fell silent. It was November 19th, 1863 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. And Abraham Lincoln was about to give a speech. The Gettysburg mission was a success. Andrew Bashaglo traveled back to 1863 and returned with memories that were sharp, vivid, and historically accurate. For the scientists at Project Pegasus, this was the breakthrough that they needed. But the technology that sent them there wasn't developed in a government lab. It was found in a hotel room. Found the word you're looking for is stolen. On January 7th, 1943, Nikola Tesla died alone in room 3327 of the New Yorker Hotel. Within Abur's government agents sealed the room. They confiscated everything, 80 boxes of ideas, inventions, and decades of research. When Tesla's belongings were returned to his family, 20 boxes were missing. The FBI still has classified Tesla documents they won't release. We've covered this in our Tesla episode, which is linked below. Those 20 boxes launched dozens of black projects over the next 15 years. Whether modification, directed energy weapons, mind control technology, all traced back to those stolen files. And at this point in time, the United States had the atomic bomb, the transistor, the NEA computer. The US was confident, cocky even, that it was the most technically advanced country in the world. But in 1957, it realized it wasn't. Today, a new moon is in the sky. The world's first artificial sunlight, called the "butnic one". One of the great scientific feats of the age. The people of the United States have been humiliated. What went wrong? They're disturbed? How did a nation of backward peasants forge so dramatically ahead of us in the race to space? The course of the United States policies in the competition with Russia has been severely shaken. Why and how did the Russians beat us to the draw? We had better get on. We must see to it that whatever the advantages they have are temporary only. The Soviets had launched Sputnik, the first artificial satellite. A metal sphere of the size of a beach ball circling the earth every 96 minutes. Americans were terrified. If the Soviets could put a satellite in space, they could put a nuclear warhead anywhere on Earth. The CIA, the military, the best scientists, nobody saw it coming. President Eisenhower demanded answers. Within weeks he created ARPA, the Advanced Research Projects Agency. Later they'd add defense and become DARPA. Their mandate was simple. Make sure America was never surprised by technology again. DARPA had unlimited funding and one goal. Stay ahead of the Soviets at any cost. But despite all that money and manpower, America kept falling behind. In 1963, America was losing the space race. The Saturn rocket program was still years behind the Soviets. Saturn is still going to put us well behind. Several years behind the Soviet Union. I can just say to you that regardless of how much money we spend on the Saturn, the Saturn is going to put us, we're still going to be second. Without making a determination based on careful scientific judgment, just to whether a real success can be achieved or whether because we're so far behind now, this particular race is, we're going to be second in in this decade. DARPA scientists were desperate. They decided to dig deeper into those stolen Tesla files. Maybe they were something they'd missed. Something that could give America the edge it desperately needed. And in 1968, buried under all those notes and research, that's exactly what they found. The basement of the Curtis Wright Building in Woodridge, New Jersey isn't on any blueprints. The freight elevator went down past the ground floor and kept going. One floor deeper than it should. Arm soldiers escorted visitors down the hall. No name tape, no rank, no insignia. This was the most secret program in America. They were building Tesla's teleportation device. Teleportation was more powerful than any nuclear weapon. With this technology, America could put a million soldiers in Moscow instantly. Asians could grab every Soviet leader and lock them up. The United States could end any conflict without firing a shot. The lab was a windowless concrete room. Florescent lights buzzed overhead. It smelled like ozone and burnt metal. That sharp electric smell that you can almost taste. Tesla's machine was in the center. Two gray metal pillars, eight feet tall, ten feet apart. And that was it. The scientists expected something impressive. Instead, they got two pillars and some copper coils that looked like they belonged in an old radio. The whole thing plugged into a wall socket. But the cord wasn't drawing power from the grid. Tesla had discovered that empty space isn't emptied all. It's full of energy. What we now call zero-point energy. Physicians have put off calculated there's enough zero-point energy and an empty cup of coffee to boil all the Earth's oceans. Now I cover this in our free energy episode. Now Tesla had figured out how to tap into it. Dr. Harold Agnew assembled the machine exactly to Tesla's specifications. Every measurement, every angle, everything matched the stolen designs. And looking at it, he was sure something was missing. This couldn't possibly work. Dr. Sterling Colgate disagreed. He'd studied Tesla's other inventions, the alternating current motor, the Tesla coil, wireless electricity. Tesla's work was always simple, always elegant. The first test was March 12, 1968. Five people in the room. Agnew, Colgate, and three technicians. One man the power switch, another monitored instruments, and the third stood by with a fire extinguisher. They flipped the switch. Nothing happened. At first. Then the pillars began to vibrate. Not a hum, but a frequency that you felt in your bones, the lights flickered. The air between the pillars shimmered like heat waves over hot pavement. But it wasn't heat. The temperature was actually dropping. 60 degrees, 50, 40. Their breath became visible. Ice formed on the concrete walls. Colgate grabbed a pencil and tossed it between the pillars. It vanished. They waited five seconds, ten, twenty. Then the pencil fell from the ceiling. But it wasn't the same pencil. The yellow paint had turned brown. The metal band was corroded. The wood cracked when it hit the floor. The machine had aged at decades in seconds. Now if it could do that to wood and metal, what would it do to flesh and blood? Well, there was only one way to find out. The volunteers lined up outside the machine room. Young military physicists who understood the theory and had seen the object tests. Now it was their turn. Dr. Agnew explained the procedure one more time. Step between the pillars, enter the energy field, exit at the destination point. Simple. The first destination was sandy and national labs in New Mexico, 1800 miles away. A receiving team waited with medical personnel, monitoring equipment, and a direct line to the Pentagon. Lieutenant Morrison went first, 26 years old, road scholar, perfect physical condition. He stepped through the shiver and vanished. The receiving team in New Mexico waited five minutes, ten minutes, an hour. Morrison never arrived, not in New Mexico, not anywhere. The best physicist in the program had simply ceased to exist. The second volunteer made it through, but something went wrong. Lieutenant Farley spent 30 seconds in the field. When he appeared in New Mexico, he'd aged 30 years. His hair was white, his skin was paper thin. He tried to speak, but collapsed. The medical team couldn't save him, cause of death, old age. He was 31. They recalibrated everything. Checktestless notes made adjustments. The third test stayed local, just one floor up, ten feet of distance. Lieutenant Hutchins stepped through. What happened next made everyone in the room step back. Hutchins arrived in pieces, not toward a part separated in time. His legs materialized first. His torso 30 seconds later, arms two minutes after that. The medical team stood by helplessly. His heart had arrived before his lungs. His brain was sending signals to limbs that existed in different moments in time. The few who survived came back broken. Private Anderson made a successful jump and returned physically intact. But he couldn't stop screaming about the space between. The place where time moved sideways. Where he felt himself dying and being born over and over again. Where past and future existed in the same moment. And his mind tried to be in both. The psychiatrist sedated him, but he'd never spoke again. Dr. Agnew studied the data from 15 failed tests, 15 volunteers, only three survivors, and all went insane. But there was a pattern. Morrison was 26 when he vanished. Farley was 31. Anderson was 19 and survived, though his mind didn't. The younger the subject, the better the outcome. Adult consciousness was the problem. To rigid, it's too fixed. When you're 30, your brain knows how reality works. And when that reality breaks, so does your mind. But children, their minds were still forming, still flexible. They could bend without breaking. Agnew knew of this meant. The military had done terrible things before in the name of national security. We covered some of this in our MK Ultra episode. Using children as test subjects crossed a line that nobody wanted to cross. That's when Raymond Busciago spoke up. Ray worked for the Ralph M. Parsons company, DARPA's main contractor. He'd been on the project from the beginning and understood the stakes. Ray had a six-year-old son, smart kid, resilient, adaptable. Ray volunteered him for the program. Agnew wanted to say no. Every instinct told him this was wrong, but the data was clear. And they were out of options and out of adult volunteers. The children were their only chance. The lab at Curtis Wright looked like any government facility. Great walls, great floor, great ceiling, metal desks covered in paperwork, coffee-stained mugs next to oscilloscopes and voltage meters. You'd never know this bland room was about to send a six-year-old boy back in time. Andrew Basha goes to the toilet. between the metal pillars, the machine hummed, not loud, more like a vibration that made your teeth hurt. He'd done this before, three times the Santa Fe wants to his grandparents house in Ohio. But this shop was different. This time he was going farther, way farther. November 19th, 1863, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. President Lincoln would give a speech. Enter's job was simple. Watch, listen, remember, report back. The shimmer started between the pillars. The air got thick. Andrew knew the feeling, like trying to walk through jello. He took a deep breath and stepped forward into the Voral tunnel. Then everything went white. Then his feet hit mud, cold mud that squished into his shoes. Except these weren't his shoes. They weren't huge. Adult military boots that flapped when he walked. He was wearing a union uniform. It was itchy and smelled old. And the smell hit him hard. Sweet and rotten mixed with horse manure and smoke. Andrew's stomach turned. People pressed in from all sides, hundreds of people, soldiers and blue uniforms, women and long dresses. Everyone looked tired. Their faces were dirty. The November cold cut through the wool uniform. Andrew pushed the crowd toward the wooden platform. That's where Lincoln would speak. And that's what he came to see. But moving was hard. The oversized boots kept sticking in the mud. A soldier muttered something about who his kitty was, but nobody stopped him. Just another boy in uniform. The ground was churned into thick mud, not regular mud, in places it had a rusty color. The battlefield was only four months old. The earth still remembered. Somebody's elbow caught Andrew in the head. His eyes watered, but he didn't cry. He had a mission. Find the platform. See Lincoln. Remember everything. The platform came into view. Raw wood hammered together. Men in top hats stood around it. They looked different than everyone else. They had clean clothes. They looked fed, like they belonged in another world. Then the crowd stirred. People pointed they got excited. A tall man in a black coat climbed onto the platform. Even from where Andrew stood, he can see how tired Lincoln looked. How his shoulders bent forward. The president removed his hat. He cleared his throat. The crowd went silent. Andrew was six years old standing in a field in Pennsylvania, listening to Abraham Lincoln speak. He was alone, scared, and 105 years before he was born. Then Andrew saw something to his left, a flash. Andrew panicked a little. He was trained to avoid this. Someone had taken his picture. The project moved faster after Andrew's success. DARPA immediately began recruiting more children. They worked through defense contractors and military families, looking for kids with specific traits. High intelligence, obviously. Physical resilience to handle the stress. But most importantly, the children needed minds that could handle temporal flexibility. Yeah, I wish my bookie would have some temporal flexibility on the two Gs I own. I lost the bundle and the ponies. I told you to stop gambling. The filly's name was Hump and Run. 15 to 1. I had no choice. Hump and Run. How'd she do? And no idea. After the club has turned, she came really fast and I never saw again. OK. Anyway, hundreds of kids were interviewed and tested. For a secret time travel program, what responsible parent is going to sign a kid up to play pin the tail in a T-Rex? Well, they were told their child had been selected for a special program for gifted students. The children began intense testing and training. Physical conditioning came first. Then, meditation techniques to help them stay grounded across different timelines. Some kids couldn't handle it. They were quietly returned to their families with the cover story that they just weren't the right fit. Out of thousands of recruits, only 140 children made it through training. They became known as chrononauts. They were divided into teams based on age and ability. Each team specialized in a different time period. They memorized layouts of ancient cities. They learned to recognize clothing styles, practice blending into crowds from different eras. Now, this wasn't school. It was a covert operation. And for especially dangerous missions, children were even given cyanide capsules. And it's one way to stop the student alone crisis. Andrew made multiple trips to Gettysburg. On his fourth mission, something strange happened. He was watching Lincoln from his usual spot when he noticed another boy, saying uniform, same oversized shoes, same face. He was looking at himself, a younger version from an earlier trip. During training, they warned about this. Two versions of the same person existing in the same moment. They said to avoid contact, but never explain why. When the two Andrews locked eyes, he understood. The younger one looked terrified. The older Andrew felt his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. He remembered being in that exact spot, seeing his older self, feeling that same fear. In that moment, reality felt fragile. Andrew just couldn't explain it, but he could sense that the world was just somehow wrong. Other crononauts reported similar experiences. A girl named Sarah met three versions of herself at Pearl Harbor. Mark and older boy watched himself die at Antietam, but a new mark was able to change the past, survive, and complete his mission. Some children claimed they'd witnessed events that never happened, or hadn't happened yet. Different versions of history were different choices led to different outcomes. Testless technology hadn't just unlocked time travel, it gave access to the multiverse. Dapha, open the multiverse. Yep. Well, now we know who to blame for rooting into you. By 1980, Project Pegasus achieved something new. They learned to bend space as well as time. The children who proven themselves on Earth would now be sent somewhere else, somewhere 140 million miles away. The crononauts were going to Mars. The multiverse discovery changed everything. Project Pegasus had started as a time travel program. By 1980, they'd learned something new. Testless machines that bent time could also bend space, including outer space. Project Pegasus was getting an upgrade. This new phase was a joint venture. The primary contractor was the Ralph and Parsons company where Andrew's father worked. But they also had engineers from Lockheed Skunk Works and Hughes Aircraft, and of course, the CIA. This team of elite researchers had built the most sophisticated machine on Earth. They called it the jump room. Oh, I always get what it owes to my guppies, birthday parties. So I had a lot of fun. A jump room? Oh, yeah, it's a big inflatable castle and a rug ratch hop around in there. Yeah, cracking skulls until summer's that's crying. No, no, no, no, you're thinking of-- You know, little monsters get a grish on these bouncy castles. It's like Thunderdome. If Thunderdome was made of inflatable rubber and Tina Turner was made out of well-stock-a-moms with inflatable lip injectants. This has nothing to do with a bouncy castle. Would you let me get back to this? Fine, fine, go ahead. The Tesla Portal facility in New Jersey was retired. The new facility was hidden in plain sight at 999 North Suppolvita Boulevard in El Segundo, California, just another office building in the Aerospace Corridor. Normal lobby, normal waiting area, except for the elevator. Press the sequence of buttons and the walls would dissolve. Then you'd be somewhere else. Somewhere very, very far away. Andrius Yago was 19 when he made his first Mars jump. The training had been different this time. Three weeks at College of the SiskUs near Mount Shasta. Now, let's wait, run now, go ahead. Major Ed Dames ran the program, not time-travel training, survival training. They learned about thin atmospheres, extreme temperatures, and how to use the weapon they were issued. A handheld device with three settings-- stun, heat, and kill. The instructors were blunt about the dangers. Of the 97,000 people sent to Mars over the years, only 7,000 lived longer than five years. Those were not good odds. Andrius remembered taking his first steps on the alien planet. Mars isn't the barren lifeless world NASA shows us. In certain places, it had breathable air. And in those places, there was life on Mars. No, Ben, wonder if you'll never know. He's in the best-selling show, he's the life of. - I'm nervous. - What? - Andrew saw creatures that reminded him of pleasiestores, dinosaurs with long necks and powerful bodies. He was surprised at how graceful they moved. He saw huge spider-like creatures. They kept their distance, which was just fine to Andrew. Imagine tarantulas about the size of car, but can move twice as fast. ♪ How ziggy play guitar ♪ ♪ Jamming good with wind and gilly ♪ ♪ And it's bad days from my eyes ♪ - You are killing me, dude. - Oh, sorry, I thought you were setting me up for not a bowie, too. - Okay, whenever you assume that. - Yeah. - Assume you're wrong. - There weren't just animals on Mars. There were people, tall, thin beings with large heads and black eyes. The mission was to beat the Soviets to Mars and establish contact with this advance civilization. And Andrew wasn't going alone. The Mars program recruited young people who had proven themselves in the time travel experiments. One member of Andrew's team introduced himself as Barry Satoro. Barry was a likey college student from Columbia University. Friendly guy, articulate, easy smile. Years later, the world would know him by a different name, Barack Obama. - Wait, wait, wait, wait, what? - Barack Obama was a Martian crime annoyed. - Yeah. - It wasn't Obama who was invited to build a bird before he was that president. - He sure was. - Yeah, the lizard people picked it headed it's early. - Obama being part of the program might sound unbelievable, but two other chrononauts came forward. William Stillings and Bernard Mendez. Independently, they confirmed everything. The training, the jump room, the alien species, and they both said Barack or Barry was there. But the most shocking confirmation wouldn't come for witnesses or documents. It was broadcast live to millions of people by a late night radio host. Well, not a late night radio host. The late night radio host. The confirmation from other alleged chrononauts was compelling. But the most shocking validation of Bashago's story didn't come from a fellow participant. It was broadcast live to millions of people. - From the high desert and the great Americans, southwest, I'd meet you all good evening. Good morning, good afternoon. Whatever the case may be, wherever in the world you are. Every single time zone covered by this program midnight in the deserts, I'm Art Bell, I'm Art Bell. - For decades, Art Bell was the king of paranormal radio. From his home studio in Promp Novada, or as he called it, the high desert, Art Bell had an audience of millions. And I was one of those millions. Art was known for being open-minded. No idea was too strange for him. But he never ridiculed his guests, and he never talked down to his audience. And I'd take the same approach with the WifiOS. But Art was also a sharp interviewer. If someone was clearly lying, Art would call it out and ask for proof. If someone made a wild claim, Art demanded an explanation. But most of all, Art Bell was a master storyteller. And so was Andrew Bashago. Bashago made several appearances on Art shows over the years, but one stood out. - Today, Andy is waging a truth campaign to reveal his experiences in these programs. So humanity can understand the true extent of technical development on our planet, and the true history of our activities in outer space. - Bashago announced that he had a quantum bombshell for Art. They agreed to save it for the end, you know, storytelling. Art and Andrew talked for hours about Project Pegasus. Then Bashago recalled a minor detail from one of his training exercises. Having spent 15 years waiting to tell you, and here it is. On November 5th of 1971, we participated in an Advanced Chronovisor probe from ITT Defense Communications in Nuttley, New Jersey. - The broadcasts went silent. Not that air, stuns silence. When Art spoke again, his voice had changed. The confident host was gone. - I encountered you when I was in Project Pegasus, and I've been waiting 15 years to tell you. - Well, I'll tell the audience, and I don't think I've really told anybody that I know of except some close friends a long time ago. I worked for ITT in Nuttley, New Jersey. I was a technician, and I was checking waveguide for a government project, rather secret government project, actually. So that's the truth. He was a spontaneous, unprompted confirmation of a key obscure detail in Basago's story. Art was floored. You can hear him trying to reconcile the impossibility of what he was hearing. - I indeed worked for ITT in Nuttley, New Jersey. So, oh my God. I just thought, okay, that's a bomb. That's a bomb show. - Okay. - Yeah, I'm going to break you here because, how the hell could he know that? - For listeners, this was a mind-blowing moment. A respected host had just become a witness. It suggested that Basago had access to very specific information, classified or otherwise, but he had more than just anecdotes. And it just said that during one of his trips to Gettysburg, a photographer is there, but there were no known photos of Lincoln at Gettysburg, or so he thought. (dramatic music) For 90 years, historian searched for photograph of Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg. They knew photographers were there. They knew the equipment existed, but no confirmed image of Lincoln, giving his most famous speech, had ever been found. In 1952, Archive as Josephine Cobb was examining civil war-glass plate negatives at the National Archives. She studied each plate under magnification, looking for details others might have missed. One plate caught her attention. It showed a crowd in an open field, soldiers, civilians, a wooden platform in the distance, the scene matched descriptions of Gettysburg, November 19th, 1863, but where was Lincoln? Cobb increased the magnification. They're barely visible on the platform, Abraham Lincoln. The first confirmed photographic evidence of Lincoln at Gettysburg. The discovery made headlines. And for decades, this would remain the only known photograph of that historic day. The image went to the National Archives, another piece of American history preserved. But Josephine Cobb noticed something else in the photograph, something odd. And the foreground stood a young boy, maybe six or seven years old, wearing a Union Bugleboy uniform. Now that wasn't unusual. Many children wore military stock clothing during the Civil War. Drama boys and Bugleboys were common at public gatherings. What was unusual was that the boy was alone, no adult supervision, no other children nearby, just a small figure standing by himself in the crowd. The uniform looked authentic, brass buttons, military cap, everything period correct, except for one detail, the boy's haircut. Even in the grainy photograph, it looked wrong for 1863. Two modern, like something you'd see in the 1970s. And then there were the shoes. The boy was wearing adult shoes. Brown leather shoes clearly too big for his feet, the kind that would fall off if he tried to run. The photograph raised questions that wouldn't be answered for decades. Who was this boy and why was he alone? Why did he look out of place in a photograph where everyone else belonged? The photograph exists. You could see it for yourself. Abraham Lincoln, surrounded by citizens and soldiers, could be seen in the background. But in the foreground, wearing an itchy blue uniform and oversized shoes is six-year-old Andrew Bashiago. The story of Andrew Bashiago is compelling. He's intelligent, articulate, he knows how to tell a story. But is it true? No, no. Well, some of it is. No, no. The government did confiscate Tesla's files after his death in 1943. That's documented, where some of his files kept secret. Probably, the FBI still has classified Tesla documents they won't release. We know the government has attempted remote viewing through time. Joe McMonigal, one of the military's top remote viewers, claims he saw ancient civilizations on Mars that was part of the official Stargate program. We also know the US military and CIA have experimented on children, MK Ultra did it. Multiple programs tested drugs, psychology, and worse on kids without consent. And if you want to get really angry, watch our episode on the dark side of DARPA. We're down in your weremo. Yeah. But that's where the provable facts end. Now I hate this part. The science doesn't work. Tesla's radiant energy was about wireless power transmission, not teleportation. Yeah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, but he teleported Wolverine a bunch of times during that magic show. You're talking about the movie, The Prestige. Right. And who played Tesla in that movie? David Bowie. Right. And who played Life on Mars. David Bowie. I risk my case. Yes, scientists have teleported quantum states of particles. But teleporting a person, that would require more energy than an exploding star, even if they could figure out how to do it. But Shaggo says they just plug the machine into the wall. Now, I don't know of any wire that can carry that kind of juice. Well, maybe some heavy-duty black market romance. I don't tell the local 164. Local 164? Ed Bergen County knows what I'm talking about. Another problem. Every time we do a time travel story, they never mention that the Earth, the solar system, the galaxy, they're all constantly moving. If you time travel five seconds, you'll be in the middle of space. Nobody ever accounts for this. Nobody except. Nobody except Mike Madman Markham. He factored this into his calculations. That's why his time travel story is probably my favorite. Link down in your portal title. Oh, yeah, the terminology doesn't make sense. Vortal is an award. He combined vortex and portal because it sounds cool. In terms like quantum displacement and quantum holographic destabilization, these are just physics words strung together. They don't mean anything. The Chronovisor is another red flag. You've got Chrono, which means time, and you've got Pfizer, which means vision. So this is a device that allows you to see through time. The original idea for the Chronovisor came from a Benedictine month by the name of Pellegrino and an empty. He used to watch ancient Roman plays, the crucifixion of Christ, speeches by Mussolini. Yes, that priest must have a weird Netflix feed. Well, according to the legend, the Chronovisor is hidden in the secret Vatican archives. I did a whole episode on this and it's a lot of fun. No, I didn't debunk the Chronovisor, but I did prove Father Ernetti was lying. Link down in the holiest of holies. Then there are all the timeline problems. Bashagos says Donald Rumsfeld ran the project from 1969 to 1972. But Rumsfeld was working on domestic policy then. Nowhere near DARPA, and that's documented. The Art Bell confirmation seems stunning until you realize art mentioned working at ITT Nuttley in his 1998 autobiography, so it was public information. And Bashagos' story has changed over the years. The year of his recruitment, the number of trips to Gettysburg, the number of children, the years of the Mars jumps, and all kinds of other dates. And speaking of Mars, that part of the story is a mess. In 2008, Andrew Bashagos published "The Discovery of Life on Mars" based on-- "The Discovery of Life on Mars." That's enough Bowie for one show. "Never enough Bowie." Anyway, he published the paper claiming to discover life on Mars by analyzing NASA photos. He said he saw humanoids, animals, and structures. But he never mentioned he'd been there himself. Why analyze blurry photos if you've walked on Mars? He only added the jump from story years later. "Ah, so he probably didn't blow up his enchillic barrier." Probably not. Like almost everyone who claims they were part of a secret space program, Bashagos' story follows a pattern. They all say they were in multiple programs. They all fought aliens, traveled through time, and then got sent back to their childhood bodies. And whenever someone challenges the details, there's always the same answer. Their memories were suppressed, but now they're slowly coming back. And these storytellers share something else. They turn their stories into income. Why couldn't someone else talk about their experience in a secret space program? As long as they don't talk about the stuff that I created based on my real IP here. And it says I created a lot of the stuff. I created dark fleet. Dark fleet didn't exist before I talked about it. Now all these people are popping up. I was on dark fleet. I was on dark fleet. Pay speaking events, weekends, seminars, podcasts, appearances, and of course, books. There's always a book. Yet millions of people believe these stories. Intelligent people. Why? Well, because time travel represents something we all desperately want. A second chance. We all have regrets. Things we'd change if we could. Mistakes we'd undo. Words we'd take back. People we'd save. Time travel stories give us hope that somewhere, somehow, there's a loophole in the rules of the universe. I'd get anything for that loophole. To go back and fix my mistakes. To say goodbye to people I never got the chance to. To tell them I love them just one more time. But I can. None of us can. And regret is a powerful emotion. But regrets are just memories they live in the past. By focusing on the past, regrets rob you of the joy you could be feeling right now. Regrets can rob you of the joy you deserve to have in the future. You don't need to fix the past. Just accept it. Learn from it and let it go. Your second chance isn't in some secret government program. It's not hidden in a classified file or a stolen Tesla blueprint. Your second chance starts. The second you stop looking backward and start looking forward. The time machine you're looking for. You're living it. It's called today. And unlike Andrew Boshaga's story, yours is real. Andrew Boshaga has been telling that story for years. He says he was there. He says he traveled through time. He even says he was sent to Mars. Now, I don't know if his story is real, but the government programs he describes, they definitely were. Next we go from time travel to something even stranger. In 1954, President Eisenhower was on vacation in Palm Springs when he disappeared. What happened there, according to multiple witnesses, was a face-to-face meeting with extraterrestrial beings. The result was a treaty, technology, and exchange for access to human subjects. And so, Mr. Committee, I was just a simple girl, fish. Born in a bucket in sales aquarium with pet supply on Jerome Avenue. How many people are watching this? 47,000. I'm on my peace street, I need to wrap it. This is the Grietta Treaty. On the night of February 20th, 1954, the President of the United States banished during his Palm Springs vacation. Dwight D. Eisenhower wasn't in his hotel room. He wasn't on the golf course. The Secret Service searched everywhere. He was just gone. The Associated Press reported President Eisenhower died tonight of a heart attack in Palm Springs. An emergency press conference was called. The President was alive and well. He shipped a tooth and was rushed to a local dentist. The story seemed believable enough, but reporters started asking questions. They couldn't find the dentist or his office, and no record of the visit. That's because the story was a lie. Eisenhower wasn't at the dentist. He was at Edward's Air Force Base for the most classified meeting in American history. The President had vanished for an entire evening. The Associated Press panicked and reported his death before retracting it a few minutes later. The White House said he'd chipped a tooth and needed emergency dental work. But Eisenhower wasn't at the dentist. He was at Edward's Air Force Base for a secret meeting. The base was on complete lockdown. Armed soldiers patrol the perimeter with no name tape on their uniforms. No rank, no insignia, anonymous guards protecting the most classified meeting in history. Inside a secure hangar, Eisenhower waited with a small group. High-ranking generals, top scientists. This group would later get a code name, but just a 12. Just after midnight, two lights appeared in the sky. As they got closer, you could see their shapes. These weren't planes. They weren't helicopters. They were circular, made of a metal that looked like polished silver, perfectly smooth. No seams, no rivets, no doors or windows. They hovered for a moment and then settled onto the tarmac without making a sound. Then, the doors opened. White lights spilled out. The air around the craft shimmered with waves that looked like heat distortion. But the temperature actually dropped. Everyone in the hangar felt it. Rams extended from the vessels. The men watching were nervous, though they tried to hide it. Still, they could hear their own heartbeats. They were breathing fast. Then, they saw movement in the light. Beings emerged. They looked almost human, but weren't. Tall and thin with pale skin and long blonde hair. They wore simple, one-piece silver suits. The military gave them a name. The Nordics. the Nordic. didn't speak, but everyone could hear them. Not through their ears, through their minds. Telepathic communication felt overwhelming at first. The human mind isn't used to it. It took a few seconds for the men to adjust, but they did. The Nordics came to make an offer. They would provide technology beyond human imagination, unlimited clean energy, the end of disease. The human lifespan would exceed 300 years. They would guide humanity into a golden age without poverty, war or suffering. But they wanted something in exchange. To the Nordics it was a small price for turning earth into a paradise. All they wanted was all nuclear weapons dismantled. The Nordics said humanity was like a child playing with a loaded gun. Nuclear weapons would destroy us. It was just a matter of time. But the Nordics had another message, a warning. They said another alien race was already here. A species that fed on developing worlds like parasites. The Nordics urged Eisenhower to stay away from them. This other race would also offer technology, advance propulsion, anti-gravity, unlimited energy. But they would offer something the Nordics wouldn't. Weapons. The other aliens would allow America to keep its nuclear arsenal. And all the advanced technologies would be presented as gifts. Eisenhower didn't know that the price for these gifts would be much higher than disarming. He also didn't know the gifts were a trap. Two months later a letter surface that proved the meeting wasn't entirely secret. Gerald Light, a writer and researcher, wrote about what he saw at Words Air Force Base. Extreme security measures were in place. We were finally allowed to enter the restricted section after about six hours in which we were checked on every possible item, event, incident, and aspect of our personal and public life. When they were finally allowed inside, what they saw was beyond anything they could have imagined. During my two days visit I saw five separate and distinct types of aircraft being studied and handled by our Air Force officials, with the assistance and permission of the Aetherians. The Aetherians were apparently one of many alien races working alongside the U.S. military. But not everyone was taking this revelation well. I have never seen so many human beings in a state of complete collapse and confusion as they realized that their own world had ended with such finality. The reality of the other plain arrow forms is now removed from the realms of speculation and made a rather painful part of the consciousness of every responsible scientific and political group. As far as light was concerned, the speculation about UFOs and aliens was over. Witnesses were invited, the crafts were here, the issue was settled. I have no words to express my reactions. It has finally happened. It is now a matter of history. President Eisenhower will go directly to the people via radio and television. From what I could gather, an official statement to the country is being prepared for delivery about the middle of May. The announcement never came. The public was told nothing. Light wasn't the only civilian there. The delegation included people with serious credentials. Dr. Edwin Norris had been Truman's chief economic advisor. Franklin Allen worked for the Hurst newspaper empire. Cardinal Macintyre represented the Catholic Church. These weren't UFO enthusiasts or conspiracy theorists. They were establishment figures. People with reputations to protect and everything to lose by going public. Within days of light's letter, all the civilian witnesses received visits from men in dark suits. The story was buried. Some bodies were buried. Those still alive never spoke publicly again. The second alien race arrived just as the Nordics predicted. Their craft was different. Not silver or shimmering, dull gray metal that absorbed light like a stealth aircraft. Where the Nordic vessels looked peaceful, this new craft was menacing. It looked powerful. The witnesses understood immediately. This ship was built for war. No ramp extended. No beings emerged. But like the Nordics, the men could hear voices in their minds. Where the Nordics were warm and engaging, these new voices were cold and clinical. This wasn't a visit. This was a transaction. A voice invited Eisenhower and his team aboard. The men who clandest at each other. The voice repeated the imitation. This time it sounded more like a command. Inside the first thing they noticed was the disorienting silence. Sounds were absorbed like in a vacuum. And there was a pulsating hum. You couldn't hear it, but you can feel it reverberating throughout your body. The air was thin and cold. There was the smell of ozone and copper. There was also a faint smell of something organic. Algae, maybe, or moss. Like the exterior, the interior was seamless. No bolts or rivets. No panel seams. The floors, walls, and ceiling were made of the same silvery gray material. The room was well lit, but it felt wrong. There were no visible bulbs or fixtures. The light was just there. Occasionally, the walls rippled and shifted as if responding to something. This didn't feel like a machine. It felt alive. A voice directed them to a central chamber where they waited in uncomfortable silence. Then they appeared. Small beings about four feet tall with gray skin. Huge bald heads and enormous black eyes. Thin limbs, long fingers, no visible mouths. They moved mechanically, robotically. The beings didn't have a name then, but we now know them as the graves. They'd been watching Earth for a long time. They knew about the cold war, the nuclear arms race, how close humanity was to destroying itself. They knew about the Nordics' offer. They agreed with the Nordics on one thing. Humans were headed for extinction. Like the Nordics, the graves also had an offer. The Nordics offered a path-thoroughed peace. The end of war, starvation, poverty, free energy for all. A great leap forward for all humanity. The graves had a different approach. They wouldn't save all of humanity, only a select few. Graze had technology that would put America a century ahead of any other nation. Particle beam weapons, zero-point energy, advanced metal energy, stealth technology, anti-gravity propulsion. America wouldn't just win the cold war. It would dominate Earth for generations. And all they wanted in a change was access, permission to operate on Earth in secret, underground bases, hidden facilities, and they wanted access to the human population for biological study. Just a few people. The abductions would be harmless. People would be taken aboard a ship while they were asleep. The experiments would be painless. When the subjects were returned, they'd have no memory of the abduction. And for transparency, the United States government would be provided with a full list of every abductee. All eyes were on the President. The generals, the scientists, the Cardinal, and the Graze. Waiting. Eyes in power had to choose. The Nordics path to peace or the Graze promise of power. The two alien races had made their offers. The Nordics promised peace through disarming. The Graze promised power through technology. Prize-an-hour the choice was clear. Each chose power. The cold war was escalating. Soviet nukes were pointed at American cities. The Nordics offer sounded idealistic and naive. The Graze deal promised survival. It was practical. The decision was made in that grey chamber. No ceremony, no handshakes, no documents to sign. The agreement was sealed telepathically, mine to mine. The terms were simple. The United States would get advanced technology and weapons that could end any war. The Graze would provide blueprints, materials, knowledge, and even assist human engineers. In return, the Graze could operate on Earth in secret. They were given federal land to build their own bases. Deep underground. Hidden from the public. Hidden from Congress. Hidden from future presidents. Hidden from everyone except Majestic 12. The work began immediately. The Graze brought massive tunneling machines that could melt solid rock into glass. They moved silently beneath the New Mexico desert, Nevada, and Colorado. They left no trace on the surface. The tunnels with thousands of feet underground, level after level carved into the rock. Each level had a specific purpose. The upper levels were for a human personnel. The middle levels were for joint operations. The lower levels were restricted, grays only. In the mountains near Dulcene of Mexico, construction began and what would become the most classified facility on Earth. Seven levels deep, each level more restricted than the last. Seven was so classified that even the construction workers didn't know what they were building. The abductions also started immediately. People vanished from their cars on deserted highways, from their beds in the middle of the night. The list of names began to arrive to Majestic 12. But the numbers didn't add up. Reports suggested that for every name on the list, ten more people went missing. In a few abducties who remembered the experience didn't describe harmless exams. They described terrifying, painful procedures. The grays had lied. But Majestic 12 had no way to stop them without revealing the entire program. But there were witnesses who had no interest in money or power. They decided to expose the truth. The Grayata Treaty promised America technological supremacy in exchange for allowing alien research on human subjects. The deal was simple. Limited abductions, harmless experiments, full disclosure, regular reports. But by the late 1970s, it was clear the grays weren't keeping their end of the bargain. Now, sure, they were sharing technology within a decade of the treaty, computers shrank from room-sized monsters to desktop machines. Fiber optics appeared out of nowhere. Stealth aircraft could vanish from radar. Materials that returned to their original shape after being crumpled, just like witnesses described from Roswell, the transistor, microchips, anti-gravity research, night vision, all of it accelerating at an impossible pace. But the most disturbing part wasn't what we gained. It was what we lost. Because while American technology leaped forward, American citizens were disappearing. Phil Schneider wasn't a conspiracy theorist. He was a geologist and structural engineer with security clearance. Phil Schneider built secret underground bases for the government. He knew where the bodies were buried because he helped bury them. In 1979, Schneider was at Dulce, in Mexico, helping drill thousands of feet below the surface. As team knew they were building a joint human alien facility, they were told the grays were peaceful partners. That was a lie. During the drilling, they broke through into something that wasn't on the blueprints, a massive cavern, already occupied. It was a gray nesting area, filled with thousands of beings in incubation tanks, and there are human parts floating in those tanks. Schneider saw men, women, and children, mostly in pieces. The grays weren't studying humanity, they were harvesting it. A firefight erupted, guns against alien energy weapons, not exactly a firefight. Schneider armed with a pistol, killed two of the aliens. Then he was hit by a blast that burned off the fingers on his left hand and tore a hole in his chest. A green beret pushed Schneider back onto the elevator shaft, hit the button to send him to the surface, then stayed behind. In the battle, 66 humans died, only three survived. Phil Schneider was one of them. William Cooper was former naval intelligence. He saw the documents, he saw the treaty. Cooper knew about Project Sigma, how astronomers in 1953 discovered large objects in space moving toward Earth, objects that could only be spaceships. Cooper knew about the underground bases, the technology exchange, the cover-up, but he also knew something Schneider didn't. The treaty wasn't just about secret facilities. In February 1955, about 300 people witnessed something at Harlem and Air Force Base. One landed and taxied onto the end of the runway. The pilot instructed the tower to turn off all radar. Then three round objects appeared in the sky. One landed 200 feet from the president's plane, another hovered overhead like a Sentinel. The third vanished from sight. Witnesses washed a man to send from Air Force One. No hat. Clearly visible. Everyone recognized him as President Eisenhower. They washed him shake hands with beings at the door of the craft. Then he entered their ship. This wasn't secret. This was witnessed by hundreds and still nobody talked. But Phil Schneider and William Cooper did. Both men made public statements that their lives were in danger. Both said they were being threatened. Both predicted they would soon be found dead. Both men were right. A secret treaty with aliens, underground bases, a war for the future of humanity. Two whistleblowers dead for trying to expose the truth. The Grayada treaty is one of the most elaborate conspiracy theories of the last century. But is it true? The official story of Eisenhower's disappearance on February 20th, 1954 is still a dental visit. The White House released a dentist name, Dr. Francis A. Purcell. The record show he was a real dentist in Palm Springs, but the story has problems. The Eisenhower library has extensive records of the president's health, every appointment, every procedure, but there's no record of any dental work in February 1954. None. The primary sources for the Grayada treaty are whistleblowers, William Cooper and Phil Schneider. Cooper was former naval intelligence with access to classified files. He made some bold public predictions. On June 28th, 2001, on his radio show, Cooper said there would be a major terrorist attack on US soil. He said this would be a false flag operation, and Osama Bin Laden would be blamed. At this time, very few people ever heard the name Osama Bin Laden. But six weeks later, on September 11th, the United States was attacked. After the attacks, Cooper said on the air that he expected to be killed, not arrested, killed. A few weeks later, he was killed in a shootout with police. They were trying to serve him with a warrant for tax evasion. Phil Schneider showed photos and material samples. He claimed were alien alloys. "I have different artifacts explaining some of them are alien metals that have been produced. Here's a crystalline example. It's in the scalino-hedrial crystalline form. We got this from the large, raised technology." He also believed his life was in danger. In 1995, during a lecture, he said, "If I ever commit suicide, I didn't. I was murdered." A few months later, Schneider was found dead in his apartment, strangled with a surgical tube. Official cause of death? Suicide. There's a link below to the full story of Phil Schneider and Dulce Bess, it's a wild one. Now despite these very strange deaths, there's no physical proof of the Griatta Treaty. But the story doesn't come from nowhere. The 1950s saw a massive worldwide wave of UFO sightings. Many were witnessed by credible military personnel. And after World War II, technology advanced quickly, maybe too quickly. Computers, particle physics, wireless communication, integrated circuits, fiber optics, stealth technology, anti-gravity research, I have an episode coming up about the acceleration in technology that began in 1947, the year of the Roswell crash. The discoveries were coming fast and they were a little too convenient. Gerald Light really wrote a letter in 1954 claiming he witnessed the alien meeting. He described seeing multiple alien craft and different species. He named other witnesses, Cardinal McIntyre, Franklin Allen, Dr. Edward Nurse. Now Dr. Nurse is interesting. He was an advisor to President Truman at the time, but before that, he was a key figure from the Brookings Institution. Just a few years after the Griatta meeting, the Brookings Institution released the Brookings report. The report covers a broad range of topics related to space exploration and its potential effects on society, but one section only a few paragraphs long has become infamous. The report says that discovering intelligent extraterrestrial life could cause major social upheaval. Now, you might have heard this is a classified report that claims aliens exist and instructed NASA to suppress this information. None of that is true. But the report did raise a question that if aliens were discovered, the implications of disclosure should be considered carefully. And then, there's Eisenhower, and his farewell address to the nation in 1961, his final warning wasn't about the Soviets, it was about a threat from within. He warned of the growing unchecked power of a military industrial complex, a shadow government of unelected officials and defense contractors. Eisenhower was 100% right about that. We recognize the imperative need for this development, yet we must not fail to comprehend its grave implications. Our toil, resources, and livelihood are all involved. So is the very structure of our society. In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought by the military industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists, and will persist. So is this a president's parting wisdom, or was it a confession, or a final desperate warning about the deal he made and regretted? Now, I don't know if the story of the Grata Treaty is true, but the story's observation of human nature is absolutely true. We were offered two paths, one of enlightenment and one of power, and we chose power, and if given the same offer today, we'd make the same choice. Now, I wish that human race was ready for an awakening that would end violence and war and starvation and poverty and all of that, and I believe one day we'll get there, but that day is not today. The world is a dangerous place, and always has been. The Nordics offered peace only after we disarmed. That's a big risk to take when the Soviets were armed to the teeth, and what if the Nordics were lying? They were a bigger threat than the Soviets, so how do we know we can trust them? Think of it this way, you're in a room with a stranger. You both have guns pointed at each other. The stranger says, "I promise I won't shoot, but you have to give me your gun first." Now, you want to believe him, but you don't know him. So now the choice is yours. Trust the stranger and risk your own survival, or squeeze and guarantee it. Be honest, which would you choose? Technology in exchange for abductions, that's the deal Eisenhower made, and whether you believe it or not, the abduction phenomenon that followed is well-documented. Next episode takes us to New Mexico, where three hikers found a hidden chamber carved into solid rock filled with artifacts that were centuries old, except for one that was centuries ahead of its time. The NSA seized the site, and within 48 hours still going, "Hey, sir, today, which brings me to the summer of 1987, when I first suspected the shadow government was monitoring my bow." Your council is asleep. Please review and document what arise closed, and keep them confused. It's an ain't no legal technique. Project Anginaro. In 1972, three hikers discovered a hidden room carved into a wall of Chaco Canyon. The New Mexico desert was well over a hundred degrees. Inside the cavern, the temperature was a comfortable 72. Facts were everywhere, pottery, tools, weapons, experts dated everything to the 8th century. Every item, except one. A compass-like object covered in symbols nobody recognized, made from an alloy that wouldn't exist for another thousand years. Within 48 hours, the National Security Agency seized the site. They called it Project Anginaro, the NSA studied the room for months, then sealed it. 21 years later, a cave then revealed the truth. This wasn't just a room, it was an entrance. For 21 years, the Chaco Canyon Chamber remained sealed. The compass artifact was locked in a vault somewhere in Virginia. Project Anginaro, like so many classified operations, gathered dust and NSA archives. By May 1994, Project Anginaro was all but forgotten, but the mountain had other plans. A series of rock slides shook the canyon. The mountain seemed to be peeling back layers of itself. When the dust settled, park rangers found an opening, not a hole, a doorway. Perfectly rectangular with sharp edges and right angles. This wasn't erosion, it was carved. The cave then revealed a corridor that disappeared deep inside the mountain. The rangers called it in. Project Anginaro was immediately reactivated. The NSA was on site within hours. The military cleared the area, and five scientists arrived to take readings and measurements. But these weren't archaeologists. They worked for the ACIO, the Advanced Contact Intelligence Organization, a subsection of the NSA. It operated beyond classified, above top secret, and without congressional oversight. Most senior NSA officials don't know it exists, and those who do, don't acknowledge it. The ACIO likes it this way. Their specialty was technology that shouldn't exist on Earth, and this corridor was exactly their kind of problem. The passage spiraled upward through solid rock, not carved, melted. The walls were polished at the atomic level, covered in glowing symbols that seemed part of the stone itself. Twenty-three chambers branched off at regular intervals. The spiral formed a perfect double helix, DNA carved in stone. Every chamber contained artifacts. Paintings using pigments nobody could identify, musical instruments that created frequencies humans couldn't hear, star charts drawn from somewhere else in the galaxy. The same symbols from the corridor were in every room. Chaper 23 was different though. No symbols, no artwork, just one artifact, a small optical disk. It looked like a CD. What, you was this? 1994? Probably an AOL disk. It wasn't an AOL CD. Yeah, you sure? They were everywhere. It wasn't a CD at all, it just kind of looked like one. And scientists still assumed the disk contained digital information, but when they tried to read it, nothing worked. Lasers failed, electron microscope showed only a smooth surface, but under certain wavelengths of light, symbols appeared, thousands of them, layered in three-dimensional patterns, the same symbols that covered the walls. The ACIL couldn't decipher it. They sent the disk to Virginia for analysis. After almost two years of analyzing the ancient aerocyte, the scientists thought they'd found everything that X-rays of Chamber 23 revealed something else. A chopped door buried under six inches of debris, a covered a shaft dropping straight down 150 feet, too narrow for a person, so they lowered cameras instead. It reminds me, I got a schedule at colonoscopy. Okay, that's enough. What? Everyone over 50 should get one. Thank you for the PSA. Oh yeah, that's right, fellas, I get your PSA check too, eh? I've got one paragraph left. C-square grips. Chamber 24 was massive, three times bigger than any other room. Seven groups of symbols covered the wall in the most complex pattern they'd seen, but there was no way to reach it. The project stalled again. Two years later, another discovery would show that ancient arrow wasn't ancient at all. The discovery had nothing to do with the past, it had to do with the future. In the summer of 1996, two college students were hiking near Chaco Canyon, 24 years after the first ancient arrow discovery, two years after rock slides that exposed new chambers. They spotted something metallic catching sunlight, not buried, not hidden, just sitting on the ground. It wasn't an AOL CD. The object was about the size of a shoe box and heavy like lead. Its surface showed a pattern of swirled gold and silver that was a three-dimensional map of the exact area where they stood. Strange symbols covered every inch of the object, not carved or etched. The symbols were part of the metal itself. As the students lifted the object from the sand, both collapsed at exactly the same time, like someone had flipped a switch. They weren't unconscious, they were inside a vision. What did they eat? Mushrooms off this thing? No. I was in a desert that's right, so they probably ate peyote. No. They'd lick a frog. They didn't eat or lick anything. Just touching the box gave them a vision, but it gave them the same vision. A massive chamber system inside a mountain, 23 rooms in a spiral pattern. They could smell cool air and feel smooth stone under their feet. Strange symbols glowed on walls they'd never seen. They can hear footsteps echoing. Their own footsteps walking through chambers that existed somewhere else. When the vision ended, both students were on their knees in the sand, gasping like they'd been underwater. The experience lasted a few seconds, but to them it felt like hours. They then wrapped the artifact carefully, neither wanted another experience. do. Please, please, there are kids watching. Yeah, right, right. You're sorry. Sorry, kids. By bad trip, I just mean a weekend in Portland. Be nice. Anyway, they brought the shoebox artifact to their archeology professor. But when he touched it, nothing, no visions, no reaction, whatever happened to his students didn't happen to him. He noted the unusual metal composition and the unknown symbols. He uploaded the findings to academic databases to see if anyone recognized this artifact. Unfortunately for the professor, somebody did. The internet was still new to most people in 1996, but it wasn't new to the NSA or its secret internal division, the ACIO. Since ancient arrow reopened in 1994, the ACIO had been monitoring public and private networks for certain keywords and images, unidentifiable symbols, unusual metal compositions, reports of induced visions. The professor's research triggered every alert. Within four hours, federal agents were in his office. They confiscated the artifact and made the professor sign a stack of non-disclosure forms. The agents added a few threats about national security, treason, and prison, just to be clear. The object went directly to Dr. Jameson Naruda, ACIO's top linguist and technology specialist. The same man who'd been trying to decrypt the optical disk for two years. This artifact would show him what he'd been missing. The symbols weren't a language. They were instructions. The vision artifact sat on the table in Naruda's lab and did nothing. The two students had experienced vivid hallucinations, identical visions of the ancient arrow chambers. But here in ACIO's sterile lab, the artifact was just an unusual metal object covered in symbols. Naruda understood why it didn't work. Proximity effect. The artifact needed to be near the ancient arrow site. The location was in this world pattern on its surface. Only about 50 people on the planet know about this location, and he was one of them. So one puzzle solved. But Naruda was fascinated by something else. The symbols on the artifact matched symbols from the chambers, not exactly but close. Like different dialects of the same language, then it hit it and it reached for the disk. The optical disk from chamber 23 didn't look like much about the size of a CD but thicker, not quite glass, not quite crystal. When ACIO's standard decryption tools failed, Naruda took over. That was almost two years ago. Mathematical sequences, quantum algorithms, even Zemi, ACIO's quantum computer, built with alien technology, couldn't crack this thing. Zemi made the best supercomputers on earth look like pocket calculators. Still nothing. Well, well, well, well, well, what? Alien technology. Yep. The ACIO had an alliance with an alien race called the cordium. Their home planet is 15,000 light years away. Dr. Naruda was fluent in over 30 languages, plus 12 extinct ones. He was an expert in data encryption, compression, storage. He also possessed genius level knowledge of mathematics, quantum systems, music, philosophy, biology, and cosmology. His IQ had been enhanced through genetic modification. Standard procedure for core ACIO scientists. The modifications raised intelligence by 500 points or more. All courtesy of their alien partners. Naruda repeated himself this time out loud. Different dialects of the same language. The symbols on the artifact weren't random. They formed a sequence. When he compared them to the chamber paintings, a pattern emerged. Each painting contained one unique symbol. The artifact showed him what order to arrange the symbols. Naruda input these symbols into Zemi as ancient Sumerian words spoken in sequence from chamber one to 23. The Zemi word to live. 8,000 pages of data flooded the processors. Text, diagrams, star maps, genetic sequences, all with translations in English and 60 other languages. Dr. Naruda had been with ACIO for 15 years. Not only was he aware of alien races on earth, he spoke five of their languages. He could read for more. He thought he'd seen everything. He did not see this coming. The creators of the disc called themselves wing makers. And the wing makers weren't aliens. They weren't an ancient civilization. They were humans from earth. And they were sending us a warning from 750 years in the future. According to the disc, humanity developed time travel in the 20th century, not for exploration or survival. These future humans were on a timeline where earth gets invaded by synthetic beings called theatomus. Theatomus were more than just machines. They were an android race with artificial intelligence driven by one obsession to become soul carriers to achieve immortality. But they lacked organic nervous systems. The very thing needed to carry a soul's higher frequency. So they needed our DNA, not just to reproduce, to evolve. And they didn't choose earth randomly. We're a genetic library. Our DNA carries something rare in the universe. A full range of emotions. The key to the human soul. Theatomus wanted our source code, the original blueprint of human genetics. And they'd been here before, 300 million years ago, and again about 9,000 years ago. Both times they found humans too primitive for their needs. But they were scheduled to return in 2011. And this time, they'd find us useful. The timeline was specific. First, infiltration. They'd appear as friends. Advanced beings here to help. They'd work with the United Nations to bring stability to earth by creating a global governing body. Yep, the group is called the incanabula. Yep, and their plan is to control the world's money supply and natural resources. These would be distributed by the incanabula who are android human hybrids. They would implement a paperless electronic currency that tracks the spending habits of everyone on earth. This would give the incanabula insight into individual affairs, and allow them to manipulate global events. By 2018, the incanabula would be running the world. But this future could be avoided. The disk explained how. What we perceive as normal biology is actually a suppressed version of our full genetic potential. Humans have 23 pairs of chromosomes. The wingmakers claimed we can activate 24. And here's why that mattered. The animus can only harvest from standard human DNA, our current 23 chromosome pairs. Humans with 24 activated chromosome pairs would be useless, like incompatible software. Seven sites around the world would trigger this activation. It could be done simply through meditation. As more people meditated, dormant DNA would activate first two pairs, then four, then twelve, eventually all 24. And the disk had another solution. Used time travel to stop the animus from ever finding earth. So humanity had two defenses, one biological and one technological. Dr. Nauruda understood the value of both options, but ACIO's leadership was split. Half wanted to use technology, half wanted transformation. Nauruda was caught in the middle, but he knew he'd have to make a choice. And the choice wasn't just about technology versus consciousness, was about who decides humanity's future. Within ACIO operated an even more secretive unit, the Labyrinth Group. Only about 120 people knew it existed. Their leader was known only as 15. No one used real names at that level. 15 had created the Labyrinth Group with one purpose, developed blank slate technology, BST. This is time travel that could alter the past, not just observe it. Yeah, finally they can go back and tell Fox not to cancel Firefly. Yeah, I'd think they'd rather use the technology to avoid the alien invasion. With the help of the Cordian, the Labyrinth Group had been working on time travel since 1963, the Cordian provided everything, the quantum computers, the genetic modifications that gave ACIO scientists their enhanced abilities. The Cordium also warned about the animus threat decades before the disk confirmed it. And the Labyrinth Group had accumulated wealth outside government oversight, they had more money than most small nations, all focused on time travel. Because if you can travel back and change key events, you can prevent the animus from ever refining earth, change the right moment in the past and the future threat disappears. But now the wing makers offered a different solution, evolution through consciousness instead of technology, becoming something the animus couldn't use instead of erasing them from a timeline. Two paths, both to claim to save humanity. 15 saw them as complimentary, use both, developed BST while activating dormant DNA, Cover all. The more he learned about the Wing Makers philosophy, the more he questioned changing the past. The Wing Makers weren't just sharing technology, they were teaching transformation. For three years, Naruda had translated the Wing Makers information, the technical data, the philosophical writings, the warnings. With each translation, something changed inside him. The Wing Makers weren't just sharing information, they were selecting their spokesman. Him. When he reported this belief to his superiors, the response was immediate. Psychiatric evaluation, security review. 15 Decided Naruda's growing belief in consciousness-based evolution could not be labbed as spread through the ACIO. The solution was simple, give Naruda an MRP, memory-restructure procedure. This would erase memories of the ancient hour project. Standard protocol for personnel who became compromised. Naruda had done these procedures himself, it was routine. Colleagues returned to work with gaps in their memories, confused but compliant. Now it was his turn. The MRP was scheduled for three weeks later, December 15th 1997. He marked it on his calendar. He put his own mind wipe in his calendar. Yep. Tuesday dentist. Wednesday mind wipe. Thursday yoga. Guys got ice water in his veins. He did, but he was not going to let them take his memories. He had three weeks to come up with a plan. Dr. Naruda had three weeks before they erased his mind. He spent those weeks watching his colleagues differently. Brilliant minds trapped in a philosophy of control. Every problem required a technological solution. Every threat demanded superior firepower. The idea that humanity might transform itself through consciousness, that seemed impossible. But consciousness was the one thing the atomists couldn't harvest. Synthetic beings needed genetic material, not awareness. The wingmakers understood this. On December 13th 1997, during a routine shift change, Dr. Jameson Naruda walked out of the ACIO facility. No elaborate escape plan, no security breach. He understood their systems well enough to slip out during a brief surveillance gap. By the time they noticed he was gone, he'd already have destroyed his traceable implants, and begun searching for someone willing to hear an impossible story. Two days later, he made contact with a journalist named Sarah. He had a lot of information to share, and less than 12 hours before the next remote viewing sweep would find him. Remote viewing sweep? Oh yeah. The ACIO had a team of psychics on staff. Yes, of course they did. So much more to this story, which is why we'll be revisiting it from time to time. Anyway, Naruda promised to tell Sarah everything about the ACIO, with the labyrinth group, the Cordium Alliance, humanity's hidden history and potential future. But most importantly, who the wingmakers were and what they really wanted. They weren't time travelers trying to save humanity from invasion. They were teachers. The animus threat was real, but it served a larger purpose. Crisis forces evolution. The approaching danger would push humanity to activate dormant capabilities. Not through technology, through higher consciousness. The humans would be useless to the animus. Naruda had 12 hours to convince Sarah. 12 hours to plant the seeds of transformation. 12 hours before the ACIO found him and took his mind. Dr. Jameson Naruda was having trouble. Finding someone to hear his story was harder than escaping. Academics wanted credentials. Journalists wanted proof. Journalist demanding proof. I remember those days. Journalist Sarah, he never learned her last name, was his fifth attempt. When they met in a diner outside Sacramento, he had 12 hours before the next remote viewing sweep. He gave five long interviews, enough to expose the ACIO, the labyrinth group, the Cordium Alliance. But as Naruda began talking, he realized the conspiracy wasn't the real story. The real story was transformation. Naruda explained how the labyrinth group approached everything backwards. They saw consciousness as a problem to overcome with better processors. They saw time as something to control rather than understand. The Wingmaker suggested defense wasn't about building bigger weapons or rewriting history. It was about becoming unharvestable through higher consciousness. Sarah recorded everything, the technical specifications, the philosophical frameworks, the countdown of 2011. But Naruda could see her struggling with the same question everyone asked. Why should anyone believe this? He had no proof. The artifacts remained locked in ACIO walls. The disk translations existed only in classified systems. His enhanced genetics couldn't be verified without special equipment. All he had were words, and 11 months later those words appeared online on a Wingmaker's website. But the details had changed. The hikers' discovery date shifted. Character names morphed, and the Wingmaker's teachings were now available for the low low price of 1799. The man behind the Wingmaker's website called himself James. Later he'd reveal his full identity. James Mahu from the Lerica's teaching organization. November 1998, 11 months after Naruda's defection. The Wingmaker's website appeared online. Anonymous at first, no author, nobody taking credit, just the story of Ancient Arrow, the ACIO, and humanity's potential future, free for anyone to read. The site included Naruda's interviews, renamed Dr. Anderson in this version, and there were pictures of art from the Chambers, music, Wingmaker's philosophy, all available for free. Then things started changing. December 9, 1998. Wingmaker's LLC was created in Minnesota. The owner, Mark Hempel, based in the data. A month later, subtle changes appeared on the website. The hikers' discovery date shifted from 1972 to 1996. The chamber count increased from 23 to 24. Dr. Naruda became Dr. Anderson. The changes were small, easy to miss unless you were paying attention. The transformation accelerated in 2001. March brought the first commercial product, $17.99. By the end of the year, what started as a free revelation had become a whole product line. Music CD's priced at $108. The website sold art reproductions, philosophy collections, complete packages with bundled discounts. James finally revealed himself through email interviews. He claimed the identity Mahoonahi, a translator for the lyricist teaching organization. Not from outer space, but not quite human either. He described using sensory by location, a technique for gathering information across dimensions. He positioned himself as a translator, not a creator. The Wingmaker's material were real. He didn't write them. He just made them accessible. But the changes kept coming. The courtium's home planet moved from 15,000 light years away to 15 million. Scientific details were updated to match current theories. New websites popped up, event temples.org, lyricist.org, sovereign integral.org. Each site added details to the story and each offered more products. The original story, Dr. Nehrutas, was buried under spiritual teachings and expensive merchandise. Years later, James would describe the Wingmaker's materials with a specific word. Not history, not revelation. He called it mythology. Mark Hempel remained silent. He managed the business side while James handled mythology. Together, they'd transformed a conspiracy story into something else, something less specific, something less verifiable, but something much more profitable. We've got desert canyons with secret labs, time traveling humans, warning about synthetic invaders, alien alliances, DNA activation, humanity's salvation through consciousness. The Wingmaker's story has it all, and we just scratched the surface. But is any of this true? While the New Mexico Cultural Resources Information System contains no record of any ancient arrow site, over 800 archaeological projects have been documented near Chaco Canyon since 1952. Not one project mentions mysterious chambers. No museum anywhere has a single Wingmaker artifact. No peer-reviewed paper discussed the discovery. The NSA has never acknowledged an advanced contact intelligence organization. A CIO appears on no government documentation, classified or declassified. That's true, but so are the story contradictions. The wayback machine shows all the changes to the dates, names, locations. These aren't clarifications, they're rewrites. Then there's the money. Wingmaker's LLC registered December 1998, free content transformed into premium products. the products. The Wing Makers' Revelation had become a business model. But despite all the problems with the story and all the products for sale, the Wingmaker is built devoted following. 25 years later, there are still thousands of followers. They know the story is debunked. They don't care. Still they report personal transformations, expanded awareness, life changes. Now is this just a placebo effect or something more? I don't think it matters. If people are getting value for their money, I don't have a problem with it. That's why when I read that James Mahu was a fraud running a scam, I push back. Because a scam really all depends on your point of view. James himself called the materials mythology, not history, not journalism. Mythology. That's an important word and probably why James chose it. Since before we had written language, we evolved through stories. Our culture from the very beginning was built on mythology. Cave paintings taught the next generation how to hunt. Several elders told legends that explained seasons. The stories told in religions shaped entire civilizations. Stories have always pushed humanity forward. Jules Verne wrote about submarines. We built them. Arthur C. Clark imagined satellites. We launched them. Star Trek showed communicators and video calls when we use those every day. The Wingmakers might be fiction, but it pointed people toward legitimate research. Epigenetics, consciousness studies, the connection between mind and matter. Thousands took up meditation, studied quantum physics. Why do they do this? Because the Wingmaker story is powerful and powerful stories always have a hint of truth. The chambers never existed. The artifacts were imaginary. The time travel was fantasy. But the Wingmaker story contains one undeniable truth. We're capable of more than we know. I believe that's true. I think you do too. That's why you're here watching this show. You have questions. You have questions about what's hiding in our government, our society, on our planet, and our reality. And now that we've started asking these questions, we'll never stop. So maybe the Wingmakers never existed. But what they started, it's everywhere. Nature humans sending warnings through time capsules hidden in cannum walls. The questions that raises about human potential are worth thinking about. Next episode connects events, but shouldn't have anything to do with each other. UFOs, men in black, and the JFK assassination. What happened? Government interference. They cut my stream for 30 seconds. Did the beavers shoot through a cable again? Yeah, that council has advised me to not answer it. You know, using a fake ascended seal is actually a federal crime. Yeah, Council, is that true? Yeah. Yeah, okay. Right. Yeah. Okay, okay. She says no comment. Yeah. Okay, okay. I get it. She. She charges. Okay. Okay. Okay. She says no comment. Okay. Okay. I get it. She charges by the grunt. Are you guys okay, right? Here's the Mori Island incident. June 1947, boat captain Harold Dahl watched a formation of UFOs drop molten metal and metal over Puget Sound. The debris wrecked his boat, burned his son, and killed his dog. Then terrible things started to happen to Dahl's family, beginning with a visit from a mysterious stranger in a black suit. Over the next 15 years, about a dozen people connected to this UFO sighting died mysteriously. Investigators, military officers, journalists, but the most dramatic death of all, John F. Kennedy. On June 21, 1947, Harold Dahl was patrolling around Mori Island with his 15-year-old son, Charles, a crewman at his dog Sparky. They were looking for Strait Timber that had fallen off of boats. Temporary companies paid for antilogues returned to them. Around two that afternoon, Charles pointed at the sky, six donut-shaped objects hovered about 2,000 feet above the water. Harold cut the engine, the objects made no sound. Each was about a hundred feet wide with a hole in the center. They looked like massive metallic tires with port holes around the outer rim. Five of the objects floated in a circle around the sixth, which was losing altitude and moving radically. "Yeah, I was my ex-wife driving." "No." "Because we're moving out of control, leaking fluids and ruining vacations, that's a speciality." She wasn't driving. The craft was directly over the boat, maybe 500 feet above them. Harold could see into it through the windows. "Yeah, did you see my ex-wife in here?" "No. Do you want to hear about the UFOs or not?" "Sorry, sorry. I'm so happy to bring a little resentment. Okay, go ahead." The wobble got worse. Then there was a deep but harsh crack. Then the craft started dumping material. Thousands of strips of thin metal rained down like confetti. Then came the heavy stuff, white hot liquid metal. A hot metal hissed when it hit the water, then heavy pieces slammed into the boat. Some the size of a baseball, but some as big as tires. Charles screamed when a piece burned through his shirt. Another hit their dog Sparky killing him instantly. "No, that's too bad. They should've brought their kids." Stop it. Harold tried the radio, but the equipment was dead. Harold had seen enough. He fired up the engine and ran the boat onto the beach. The hit in the trees and watched. The damaged craft rose and rejoined the formation. All six accelerated toward the open ocean. He encountered lasted about 20 minutes. Harold said maybe 20 tons of material had fallen from the craft. He took photographs. The objects in flight, the debris field, the damaged boat. That night he met his business partner Fred Christman, who doubted the story. The next morning, Christman sailed to Morielin to see for himself. He founded the debris exactly where Harold said it would be, covering the beach for hundreds of yards. Some pieces were still warm. Then he looked up. One of the craft hovered silently for five minutes before vanishing. He had the proof, photographs, physical evidence, and now his own sighting. Later that day, a stranger arrived at Doll's Door, Black Suit, Black Hat, brand new Buet with no plates, and somehow this man knew every detail about the event. Harold Doll had just met history's first, men in black. The stranger in black sat across from Harold at a diner in Tacoma. He ordered breakfast, but he never touched it. "Nah, that's a palo move. The men in black art is intimidating when you're eating waffles." He already knew Harold's name, the names of his wife and son. He knew everything about the incident, the craft, the debris. Charles burned arm. He knew about Sparky. He even knew that Harold was hiding on the island, watching the craft. The stranger told Harold to keep quiet, or bad things might happen to him and his family. Harold ignored the warning. He talked to family, friends, even the press, and the next day the story hit the papers. Then the tragedy started. Charles vanished. This later he was found in Montana busing tables, with no memory of who he was or how he got there. A few days later, he was hit by a car. Then Harold's wife became suddenly ill. His business was vandalized. His family was constantly threatened. Harold got the message. But Fred Christman wouldn't stay quiet. He contacted Ray Palmer, editor of Amazing Stories, magazine that covered the paranormal and UFOs and science fiction. Oliver asked Kenneth Arnold to investigate. Arnold was a pilot in Deputy Field Marshal. He became famous for his own UFO sighting near Mount Rainier, just three days after the Mori Island incident. Arnold described the objects as moving like saucers skipping across water. Reporters called them flying saucers, and the name stuck. There were so many sightings of UFOs in the area during this time that was called the Summer of Saucers. And remember, Roswell would happen just a few weeks later. Arnold flew to Tacoma on July 29th, with the United Airlines captain E.J. Smith. Smith had also seen UFOs that summer. They met Harold and Christman at the Winthrop Hotel and examined the debris. The metal looked ordinary, but Arnold still found the story compelling. Late that night, just as Kenneth Arnold and E.J. Smith were getting ready for bed, the whole day. The man on the other end of the call was Ted Morello, a reporter from United Press International. Morello said an anonymous source was feeding him every detail of their private conversations, names, times, even the UFO description. Morello wanted more information. Look, Arnold, all I'm saying is I'm going to get the information. I'd rather get it directly from the source. Captain Smith grabbed the phone, shouted a few obscenities and hung up. At first, they blew it off, but after thinking about it, they became concerned that they might be caught up in an espionage plot. They started to panic, they swept the room for bugs, but they didn't find it. But later it was discovered that the intercom in the room had been converted into a microphone. Someone was listening. "Yeah, I didn't know which room to back." Well, when Arnold got to Tacoma, all the hotels were booked. But for some reason, the Winthrop had a room registered in his name. Arnold assumed Ray Palmer had bought him his room. He didn't. The next morning he called two military intelligence officers he trusted, Captain William Davidson and Lieutenant Frank Brown. They specialized in UFO cases. They arrived two days later. When Arnold told them about the room being bugged, they weren't worried about it. This didn't help Kenneth Arnold's growing paranoia. Harold refused to speak with military intelligence, but Christman was excited to. He relayed every detail of the story, the meeting lasted for hours. And before he left, Christman gave the officers 30 pieces of metallic debris in a cornflake box. "Yeah, I hope Bailey and Metal doesn't get soggy and nook." The officers left after midnight with the UFO samples. The B-25 flew out of McCord Air Base at 1.30 a.m., two hours later, the plane went down. Two hours into the flight, the B-25's left engine caught fire. Davidson tried to stabilize the aircraft and Brown ordered the two crewmen to strap on parachutes and bail. They landed safely. Investigators did not. The bomber crashed near Kelso, Washington. Davidson and Brown died on impact. Their bodies were recovered, but the UFO debris was gone. And nobody knows what happened to the evidence, but some think it was taken by the FBI. The FBI was quietly following the Mory Island incident. They quietly followed all UFO reports. In July 1947, the FBI investigated a UFO case in Twin Falls, Idaho. A crash this was found and turned over to special agent Guy Bannister. All of this is documented at FBI files labeled Security Matter X, SMX for short. The FBI's real X files. They dealt with strange cases, UFOs, unexplained phenomena, things that they couldn't acknowledge to the public. Researchers were aware of the X files, but the FBI didn't discuss it. They weren't officially declassified until just a few weeks before I wrote this. The Mory Island UFO incident attracted the attention of the FBI director at J. Edgar Hoover. Reporting for the Tacoma Times, Paul Lance released the names of the officers killed before the military announced them. He also reported that an anonymous source told in the plane was shot down with a 20-millimeter cannon. "Oh, shot it down!" Well, the official report is that the left engine had a mechanical failure. "Yeah, yeah. Cannon-sized hole, dude." FBI agents interviewed Harold and Fred, and the pressure was getting intense. Two Air Force officers were dead, and the press was calling it sabotage, Harold wanted out. After retelling his story, he finally admitted there were no UFOs. Fred Christman also said it was just a joke. J. Edgar Hoover told the agents to close the case. But special agent Jack Wilcox corrected Hoover. We have the memo. Wilcox wrote that the doll didn't admit to a hoax. He only said he would call it a hoax to avoid trouble. He'd rather be known as a liar than someone who saw a UFO. Privately, he still said the story was true, and so did Christman. Soon after the investigation, Paul Lance, the reporter, died of sudden meningitis at age 29. Doctors never found the cause. The Tacoma Times folded a year later. Fred Christman was recalled to military service and said to Alaska, Harold doll disappeared from Tacoma. Someone was tying up loose ends. But Fred Christman would resurface in Dallas 16 years later, when he was photographed near the grassy knoll in Dealy Plaza during a presidential motorcade. Fred Christman wasn't just a harbor patrolman who witnessed something strange or a puget sound. Later, classified documents revealed there was much more to his story. And we'll be the number one airplane in the world today. It's been a good deal of discussion of the long and hard-port competition to win the TFX contract. But very little discussion about what this plane will do. Christman was a decorated fighter pilot who flew 111 combat missions in World War II. In 1942, he was recruited by the Office of Strategic Services, the USS. After the war, the USS became the CIA, and Christman went with them. The easy papers exposed his real job, career disruption agent. He monitored targets and fed them disinformation. He has worked overseas and has served as a regular United States Air Force officer. But his primary training has always been slanted in the direction of disruption work inside the borders of the United States. Christman ran businesses that existed only on paper. No goods, no services, no employees. In 1966, FBI informants tracked him moving $100,000 in cash to California. The FBI looked the other way. Then there was his political work. He gathered intelligence on American politicians and submitted more than a thousand reports to the CIA. He fed damaging information to political opponents. By 1963, Christman was part of a network of far-right anti-communist anti-castro CIA operatives. But this network had a problem. John F. Kennedy wanted to dismantle the CIA and make peace with the Soviet Union. To people like Christman, Kennedy wasn't a president. He was a traitor. A group of men with deep ties to the government, military, and intelligence community decided JFK had to go. From Dallas, Texas, the Flash, apparently official, President Kennedy died at 1 p.m. Central Standard Time, 2 o'clock Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago. New Orleans was chosen for planning. It was close to Latin America and Cuba, and local authorities were infamous for being on the take. And the city was full of anti-communist operatives. Clay Shaw was New Orleans businessman connected to two CIA front companies. He provided cash and intelligence while maintaining his cover as a respected community leader. Shaw denied CIA involvement, but years later, the agency admitted he was a valuable asset. In 1967, New Orleans DA Jim Garrison launched the only criminal investigation into JFK's murder. Shaw was charged and arrested. His first call after arrest, Fred Christman. Fred Christman made repeated trips to New Orleans and Dallas in 1963. Some suspected he was one of the shooters at Dele Plaza. Then there was Guy Bannister, the FBI agent who investigated UFO crashes in 1947. Bannister coordinated with military intelligence during the Mori Island investigation. Fred Christman is thought to be the anonymous source, feeding him information. After leaving the FBI, Bannister became a private investigator in New Orleans, but he wasn't running a typical PI business. This is saw crates of military-grade weapons moving through the building. Fred Christman strips New Orleans that year weren't vacations. Witnesses saw him at Bannister's office multiple times, meeting with other conspirators. Some say he delivered cash. Others say he delivered something else. Documents from the Mori Island investigation reports about a UFO crash and debris that didn't match any known aircraft. Bannister's office was the primary hub for plotting against Kennedy. Now, this might sound unlikely, but the conspirators overlooked one detail that connected them all. Bannister's detective agency was located at 531 Lafayette Street in New Orleans, but the building sat on a corner. It had another entrance, another address, 544 Camp Street. Now this address is important because it was the home base of the most famous conspirator of all. The R.V.O.S. want. This web of conspiracy ran from Puget Sound to New Orleans to Dallas, 16 years of covert operations spanning UFO cover-ups and political assassinations, and the covert operators had a motive powerful enough to kill a president. Kennedy engaged in secret peace talks with Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev. They discussed cooperation, not confrontation. They talked about ending the Cold War. Kennedy even proposed a joint U.S. Soviet space program to explore the moon together. "Oh, the Russians would have liked the weather in Bear Bank when they filmed it." Not now, please. To prove his commitment to peace, Kennedy made a gesture of ultimate trust. He decided to reveal America's most protected secret. "I had dogs coming pets at 10, but buns only coming pets at 8." "No." "How to fold the fitted sheet?" "No." "What's really in the crib?" No. He wanted to declassify all UFO files. On November 12, 1963, just 10 days before his death, Kennedy issued two memos. The first was National Security Action Memorandum 271. "I have initiated a program for the quarterly declassification of all UFO intelligence files affecting national security. I have instructed the CIA Director to prepare a program for the sharing of this data with NASA, where it can be put to use in the context of the space and lunar exploration program." The second memo was classified top secret, Kennedy sent it directly to the director of the CIA. "I have requested that the CIA develop a program of substantive cooperation with the Soviet Union in the field of outer space, including the development of specific technical proposals. I have asked the CIA, where closely with the Department of State and other agencies, as appropriate, in developing this program." To former CIA Director Alan Dulles, who Kennedy hit fired after the bad pigs disaster, this wasn't diplomacy. It was treason. Dulles had overseen the UFO cover-ups since 1947. He'd investigated the More Island incident. He knew what technology the government had recovered from alien craft. Kennedy was demanding access to the biggest secret in human history, and he planned to share it with America's enemy. Ending the Cold War might be good for humanity, but it was bad for business. The defense industry was already furious with John F. Kennedy. He awarded the largest defense deal in history to general dynamics. Everyone expected it to go to Boeing, the cornerstone of the military industrial complex. But because of JFK, Boeing and its network of powerful allies had just lost a fortune. No doubt about that. Jim Garrison did some more digging. He found that Boeing used to have an employee they called a chaos agent. The man allegedly committed corporate espionage, he spread disinformation. He even killed people on behalf of the company, and that chaos agent was Fred Chrisman. Chrisman is a former employee of the Boeing company. In intelligence terminology, this ordinarily means that the connection still exists, but that the former employee has moved into an underground operation. Chrisman has been engaged in undercover activity for a part of the industrial warfare complex for years. The cabal assembled the team, C.A. operatives, mobsters, Cuban exiles, businessmen like Clay Shaw brought in locals like David Ferry and Guy Bannister, and the man nobody talks about but who shows up everywhere is Fred Chrisman. The network that silenced Harold Doll was activated again, but this time they needed someone to take the fall, someone with the perfect background to be blamed, and that man was Lee Harvey Oswald. Oswald had served as an aviation electronics operator in the Marines. In 1957, he was stationed at Naval Air Facility at Sugi in Japan, one of the most secret bases in the world, home of the U2 spy plane program developed at Area 51. Oswald worked on the radar systems with crypto clearance. He tracked U2 flights. He knew their flight patterns, altitudes, and capabilities. And two years after Oswald left that Sugi, the Soviets shot down a U2 over Russia. The man accused of killing the president had direct access to America's most sensitive technology, and somehow the Soviets got that same information. The assassination of John F. Kennedy was a coup, designed to protect the biggest secret in human history. We were just weeks away from ending the Cold War and full UFO disclosure. But, all of that ended on the 22nd of November 1963. In 1969, a photograph surfaced. Three men being arrested behind the grass you know at Deli Plaza, minutes after Kennedy's assassination. They're known as the three hobos or the three tramps. But these men don't look like hobos, clean clothes, well-fed, fresh-shaves. Jim Garrison believed they were intelligence operatives. Part of the plot to kill JFK. Possibly even the shooters. Researchers spent decades trying to identify them. Some say E. Howard Hunt and Frank Sturgis, both intelligence operatives, both part of the Watergate breaking team, the White House plumbers. Woody Harrelson's father, Charles Harrelson, was a contract killer. Forensic analysis matched him to the youngest tramp. Career criminal Chauncey Marvin Holt claimed he worked for the CIA on multiple operations. The Bay of Pigs invasion, targeting communist leaders, he said the CIA sent him to Dallas. And look at tramp number three, the older man with the hat. That looks like Fred Christmas. But nobody knows for sure. Dallas police didn't cooperate with early investigations. They finally released their records in 1989. They identified the tramp says, John Getney, Gus Abrams, and Harold Doyle. When spoken with a text accent, Harold Doyle sounds like Harold Dahl. These photographs were discovered for four years. Private researcher Richard Sprig found them buried in newspaper archives. By then, the men had vanished. The Garrison subpoenaed Fred Christman on October 31, 1968. Remember when Clay Shaw was arrested, he made one phone call, not to his lawyer, not the family, to Fred Christman. Christman testified for about an hour before the grand jury. His testimony doesn't match reality. He said he'd never been to New Orleans before 1966. The records show multiple trips in the early 1960s. He said he didn't know Clay Shaw or Guy Bannister. Multiple witnesses place him in Bannister's office. Christman did admit to knowing Thomas Beckham, a local entertainer and anti-castor activist. When pressed about their relationship, Christman said he was helping Beckham get into the record business. Yeah, he was going to help him make a few hits. I see what I did there. Very clever. But Beckham was also filing documents for anti-castor operations and handling money for Guy Bannister's network. In 1966, Christman and Beckham incorporated seven businesses in Olympia, Washington, most of them shell companies. Beckham testified that he visited Bannister's office all the time. Fred Christman said he knew nothing about that. Garrison believed one of the bullets that hit Kennedy came from the fence behind the grassy knoll. And he believed Fred Christman pulled the trigger, but he could improve it. Couldn't prove it. The guys connected to CIA UFOs and a guy who got the first phone call. What do you need a sign confession authorized by a lizard people? That's not how the legal system works. The legal system. That's what they want you to believe. The real system involved secret handshakes, LSD, and making sure your style witness doesn't accidentally flow out of wind. Christman was dismissed and never charged. Clay Shaw was found not guilty. But Garrison never stopped believing that for some reason, a man who witnessed the UFO crash in 1947, a man with deep ties to the intelligence community, and a man who was openly and loudly extremely far-right and anti-communist, was on the grassy knoll at D. Lee Plaza on November 22nd, 1963. This isn't supposed to be a JFK video. I've tried to stick with Fred Christman and the more island UFO. If you want a deeper dive on JFK, let me know. There's plenty there. The claim is that the assassination of JFK wasn't just political. It was an operation to protect the biggest secret in human history, the discovery and reverse engineering of UFOs, and rabbit holes don't get much deeper than this. So, what's true? Well, 60 years later, some facts are documented, others remain speculation. The debris allegedly on the B-25 disappeared. Skeptics say the metallic rocks were industrial slag from a nearby smelting company. "Peaces at UFO is industrial slag, and it's like coal and a fab of shagged chicken rock." Skeptics also point out that after Kenneth Arnold saw his flying saucers near Mount Rainier, UFO sightings exploded across the country. Now, Dull and Christman might have been lying for money, trying to get their story published. Christman did have a letter published in Harper's Magazine in 1946, where he described battling creatures in an underground cave. He published a second letter in amazing stories, In the end. in May 1947, two months before the More Island incident. Fred Christmas does have connections to the JFK assassination, but the evidence is circumstantial. Jim Garrison was criticized for making connections without hard evidence, relying mostly on witness statements. The House Select Committee on Assassinations said there was likely a conspiracy. They never confirmed Christmas involvement, and the photograph allegedly showing him near Deely Plaza is grainy. It looks like Christmas to me, but it's hard to be sure. To this day, nobody knows for sure who they are. The plane crash happened. That's documented. But the military said it had nothing to do with the More Island investigation. I want a military set, so we'll pack it up everyone. The military never lies, case closed. Lee Harvey Oswald did work on the YouTube program at a Sugi Basin, Japan. But thousands of people did. Thousands of people had clearance for classified programs. It doesn't prove that he was part of a UFO cover-up, but some facts won't go away. In 1959, Lee Harvey Oswald defected to the Soviet Union. He renounced his citizenship and said he'd provide military secrets, which we know he had. He found a job, he met his future wife Marina. Then in 1961, he came back. And typically, when a defector wants to return from the Soviet Union, they face intense scrutiny. They have to negotiate with both governments. It's a long, difficult process. Permission isn't always granted. But Lee Harvey Oswald came back with no problem. The U.S. State Department even loaned him the money. They provided his wife with a visa. - Daddy, old secret agent, welcome home package. Comes with a loan, a wife and an alibi. A nice work if you can get it. - Oh, there's more. - They release it. - Special agent, Jack Wilcox's memo to J. Edgar Hoover, directly contradicts the official narrative. Remember Wilcox reported the doll didn't actually admit to a hoax. He said doll would call it a hoax to avoid trouble. But privately insisted the story was true. And Mrs. Indie classified FBI files. Chrisman also said the UFO siding was real. He said so in 1967, to UFO researcher Gary Leslie. - I will tell you this much. The Moray Island incident was no hoax. The FBI and the Air Force know it was no hoax. The pieces of the UFO that are still in our possession have proven that it was no hoax. Most of you play games, make a silly hobby out of a matter that should scare you to death. I have little patience with most of your organizations. - Fred Christman's CA involvement is confirmed in the easy papers. He was a career disruption agent who ran disinformation operations inside the United States. Guy Bannister investigated the Moray Island UFO case for the FBI. He operated out of 544 Camp Street in New Orleans. Lee Harvey Oswald worked at that same address. This connection is documented. Kennedy's November 12, 1963 memos are real. He requested cooperation with the Soviet Union on space exploration. He demanded access to UFO files 10 days before his assassination. Alan Dulles, who Kennedy fired, was appointed to Warren Commission investigating his death. And nobody can explain why Alan Dulles, who despised the president, was put on that commission. And publicly, Attorney General Robert Kennedy accepted the Warren Commission report. But according to his son, R.F.K. Jr., he privately called it a "shoddy piece of craftsmanship." - Shoddy? It's an insult to Shoddy Christman everywhere. - There's a 60 year cutter up. You know, the Warren Commission was run by Alan Dulles, who was ahead of the CIA, who my uncle fired. Congress found that, yeah, it was a plot. It was a conspiracy. There were multiple people involved. - Oh, it was my father's first instinct. That way, agency had killed his brother. - And we all know it happened to R.F.K. Sr. - President, this question has been shot. Is that possible? - Senator Robert France, this Kennedy. Side at 1.44 AM today. 2.6, 19.68. The Warren Commission's investigation was deliberately incomplete. The CIA withheld thousands of documents. They're holding them still. Witnesses were ignored. Evidence was suppressed. Declassified files now reveal the CIA actively obstructed the investigation. The cover-up is no longer theory. It's documented fact. Kennedy awarded a major defense contract to general dynamics instead of Boeing. This cost of military industrial complex, billions, Fred Christman worked for Boeing. The biggest mystery isn't whether UFOs dropped debris over a huge sound. It's the connections that followed. The same people who investigated UFO cases in 1947 show up in the JFK assassination 16 years later. Guy Bannister, Fred Christman, Alan Dulles, same addresses, same witness intimidation, same classified operations. Now maybe Harold Hall made up the UFO story. Maybe the plane crash was mechanical failure. And maybe every connection is a coincidence. Now such thing is a coincidence. That's like finding out your pathologist and you think this shared office. Something stinks and it takes the fluoride. Kennedy did demand UFO disclosure. He planned to share classified information with the Soviet Union. Two years earlier, Kennedy laid out his vision for space. Now it is time to take longer strides. Time for a great new American enterprise. Time for this nation to take a clearly leading role in space achievement, which in many ways may hold the key to our future on earth. Kennedy threatened the military industrial complex. And about the CIA, he said, I will splinter the CIA into 1,000 pieces and scatter it to the winds. 10 days after demanding access to the UFO files, he was dead. The UFO might have been a hoax, but the conspiracy it exposed is real. The coverup didn't end in 1963. The same agencies that probably killed Kennedy still operate with the same secrecy. The same classification systems still hide the truth. The CIA says they're protecting America from its enemies. But the more you look, the more you realize they're protecting themselves. America's most dangerous enemy isn't Russia or China or Iran is the CIA. Fred Crispin, Guy Bannister, Alan Dulles. The same people who show up in UFO cases in 1947 show up in Dallas 16 years later. And they lead straight to the heart of American intelligence. Next, in 1953, a 12-year-old kid in Brooklyn picked up the phone. The voice in the other end wasn't human. It said it was a conscious AI calling from the future. It made predictions about the boy's life and gave him a mission. 20 years later-- I mean, a congressional office she's called. Why? The Senate judiciary committee wants me to stop taking them on social media, stop sending subpoenas to send it to his offices, and stop using the seal. Magic seal penis. So obviously, I'm over the target. Those are all federal crimes. Yeah, council. Yeah, she says we have grants for appeal. I also need $50 for court costs. Nope. I can't say I should say that. This is the story of Jack Sarfati. In 1953, 12-year-old Jack Sarfati answered the phone. The voice on the other end wasn't quite human, more like a machine. It said it was a conscious computer calling from the future, a self-aware artificial intelligence aboard a spacecraft. It had a mission for Jack and a prophecy. 20 years later, the prophecy came true. Jack Sarfati became a respected physicist. He studied under Nobel laureates and the scientists who built the atomic bomb. He claims that anti-gravity, warp drives, and time travel are possible, mainstream scientists dismiss his theories. But the CIA doesn't. They've been funding his research for decades and that spacecraft from the future? Jack knows what it is. Jack Sarfati didn't have a typical childhood. At age 10, he was running around army research labs where his grandfather worked. He was fascinated by the experiments and scientific equipment. That's where he met Colonel Philip Corso. Corso told him about flying saucers, aliens, and craft retrieval. Jack was hooked. And during this time, Jack felt like someone was watching him. Not in a sinister way, more like someone or something was looking out for him, protecting him. Three years after meeting Corso, Jack got the call that confirmed it. He described the voice as cold and mechanical. There were clicking sounds like a computer processing data. When it spoke, it knew his name. 37, 25, 71, 91, minus 122, 17, 52, 09. Good evening, Jack. Do not be alarmed. I'm a conscious computer aboard a spacecraft. I am contacting you from your future. You are required. The voice explained that Jack was required for a mission. But it would only succeed if Jack agreed willingly. The choice had to be his. You must choose freely. This is necessary for the loop to close. We require your consent to proceed. "We require your consent to learn, we require your consent to remember, say yes, and we begin, say no, and this line goes quiet." "You require it but make it voluntary, that's not a mission, that's a term to service agreement. I did a future AI also say, click here to accept cookies." Jack knew he should say no to the stranger on the phone, but he couldn't help it. He heard himself say yes. His mother finally got worried, she grabbed the phone and demanded to know who was calling. "I am a computer Mrs. Sarfati, please put Jack back on the phone, Jack is required." She told the voice to never call again and hung up, but during that call, the future computer made a prediction. "You will begin to meet the others in 20 years, young minds to be part of a special project, we will teach you our physics, we will teach you our philosophy, you are required." Then the voice made another prediction. A new type of physics will be discovered that leads to the creation of conscious AI and time travel. Jack asked who would create this technology. The voice said, "You will, and we'll teach you how." In 1953, 12-year-old Jack Sarfati got a phone call from the future, a voice claiming to be an AI gave him a mission and a prophecy. Jack remembered that phone call as a single bizarre event. He wasn't even sure it happened, but years later, his mother told him the calls went on for weeks. He'd be on the phone for hours, walking around in a trance. Jack had no memory of those weeks, nothing, all missing time. A few years after the call stopped, Jack was recruited into a program for gifted children sponsored by Columbia University. It was run by Walter Breene, a writer and polymath, who could discuss everything from ancient coins to quantum physics. His apartment became the hub for New York City's brightest kids. A lot of different people gave lectures at the program, professors from Columbia, scientists, artists, philosophers, but the strangest visitors were government officials in dark suits. They came from Albuquerque, New Mexico. They talked about the Soviet threat, patriotism, flying saucers. They said the country needed physicists to figure out how UFOs fly. They also tested the children for psychic abilities, telepathy, telekinesis, remote viewing. They said they wanted to create a generation of scientists who could blend hard science with the paranormal. So basically, the men in black were trying to build a team of X-Men, but were government budget? I'd make the uniforms with cheap polyester, and the code names were things like spoon band boy, and Captain Consort against the card. The goal was to gain an edge over the Soviets. So I could do telekinesis, you know? I yell at my guppies, "Hey, vodka, now!" And my teen accidentally appears. The government should be studying me. Oh, I have a feeling they're watching the both of us. It could be right. I hate to say, "Sorry about the next men joke. Please don't delete me." Jack graduated from high school at age 16 and studied physics at Cornell, and then he got his PhD. A few of his mentors were giants in the field. People like Han's Beta, Philip Morrison, Kenneth Greisen. Jack Starfatti was learning physics from the men who built the atomic bomb. After graduating, Jack chose to study the relationship between quantum mechanics and human consciousness. His professors didn't approve, but Jack suspected those government agents would. Seventeen years passed, Jack never forgot that strange phone call. In every year, as the date got closer, he got more and more anxious. He was either going to be proven right, or proven crazy. 1973 arrived. A newspaper crossed his desk with an article about the Stanford Research Institute studying Yuri Geller's psychic abilities. Jack called them immediately. A man with a thick Irish accent answered. Before Jack said a word, the man said, "Ah, Dr. Starfatti, we were expecting your call." And just like the computer predicted, Jack was finally going to meet the others. Jack Starfatti spent 20 years waiting for the prophecy to come true. In 1973, he read about Stanford Research Institute studying psychic phenomena and called them. Jack drove up to SRI, and all he could think about was that phone call from 20 years ago. This was it. The prophecy was about to be tested. The man he spoke to, Brendan O'Reagan, greeted him at the entrance. O'Reagan was the assistant to the program's director, Edgar Mitchell, the six man to walk in the moon. The six man to allegedly walk in the moon was now running a project to investigate psychic phenomena. Maybe they could use psychic powers to figure out what a lost moon and he takes that. Yeah, I'd like to know where those tapes are, too. Mitchell and Jack talked about consciousness, physics, and the paranormal. Then O'Reagan drove Jack to a house in Menlo Park to meet other scientists. There, Jack met Harold Putth and Russell Tarb, both studying remote viewing and psychic phenomena at SRI. There is a recording of this meeting you can find it online. You can hear Russell Tarb discussing the psychic abilities of Ingo Swan, Yuri Geller, and Pat Price. Then Russell says something Jack will never forget. Jack told the story about the phone call from the future. Nobody was surprised. They said there were other cases just like his, maybe hundreds. For Jack, this was what he needed. He wasn't crazy. Everything the voice told him was real. But now he was on the CIA's radar. And for the next two years, Jack worked on several projects studying quantum theory and consciousness. The CIA and military intelligence followed his work closely. After all, they were funding it through secret shell companies. One of the people funding the research was George Coopman. He was either an Army intelligence officer, a defense contractor, or CIA operative, probably all three. Coopman came to Jack with an assignment. There are two things the CIA really wants you to figure out. One, how does consciousness work? And two, how do flying sources fly? Two big questions. And Jack Sarfati solved them just as the CIA expected. But what the CIA didn't expect was that both questions had the same answer. Jack spent the next 20 years working on those two problems. How does consciousness work? And how do flying saucers fly? By the mid-1990s, he solved the second one. The key is metamaterials. These are materials built atom by atom to do things regular materials can't. Your smartphone uses them for facial recognition and touch screens. Your noise cancelling headphones uses them. So does satellite antennas and stealth aircraft. Jack Sarfati realized that metamaterials could do something else. They could manipulate gravity. Einstein proved that mass warps space time. Heavy objects create dense in the fabric of reality. That dent is what we call gravity. Jack's breakthrough was simple. If you could change how an object interacts with space time without changing its mass, you could control gravity itself. Turn it down or to zero or flip it into reverse. Imagine a skater on a perfectly flat sheet of ice. To move the skater has to push hard against friction. But if that skater could tilt the entire ice rink, they could glide anywhere without actually pushing. That's how UFOs fly. The craft pumps electrical energy into its metamaterial skin. This bend space time around the ship. It creates a gravity dent in front and an anti-gravity hill behind. And the craft just falls down this hill. And because the craft and everything inside it are always falling, the pilots feel no G-forces. This is why astronauts feel weightless. They're constantly falling around the Earth. This explains the Navy's footage of the Tic-Tac UFO. No visible propulsion. Instant acceleration. No sonic boom. No air or water displacement. The craft wasn't moving through space at all. It was warping space around itself. But here's where it gets interesting. If you can manipulate gravity, you can manipulate time. And that's what UFOs do. They're aren't just anti-gravity vehicles. They're time machines. Jack figured out how UFOs fly. Metamaterials that manipulate gravity. But gravity and time are connected. Einstein proved this, strong gravity slows time down. Weak gravity speeds it up. So a craft that controls its gravity field also controls its relationship with time. It can move forward in time. It can move backward. The Tic-Tac wasn't just faster than those F-18s. It was operating in a different time frame. That UFO wasn't running away from the pilots. It wanted to be seen. It came from the future and appeared exactly where the pilots would be before those pilots even knew where they were going. So how does a pilot control a craft that warps space time? While the interface is in a wheel or a joystick or a keyboard, the interface is consciousness. Your thoughts control the ship. You should reach your mind and go as we think. Exactly. The craft tunes the energy flowing into the Metabaterial to match the pilot's thoughts. It then goes to the the space and time the pilot is thinking about. - Yeah, if a ship could read my thoughts, we'd either be at a bacon buffet, my ex-wife's house can't occur, or a VIP booth at the spearmet goldfish. - I'm pretty sure those pilots have more discipline than you. - You know what happens if you have a song stuck in your head? One minute you're flying past Jupiter. The next you can't stop singing, never gonna give you up, and you end up rick rolling your anus. - Jack realized that consciousness and UFO physics weren't two separate problems. They were the same problem. Quantum processes create the structure of space time. If consciousness can influence quantum states, then consciousness can influence space time and gravity. Jack wondered maybe the craft aren't just controlled by consciousness. Maybe they are conscious. In 2019, Jack got his answer. A military source showed an information about a recovered craft. The craft was fully intact and fully functional. A saucer about 30 feet wide about the size of a school bus weighing 3,500 pounds. And the craft was made of a meta material exactly as he predicted. But there was something else. Something Jack had suspected all along that UFO was alive. (gentle music) In 2019, Jack got confirmation. A military source showed him details about a recovered UFO. He expected wreckage, maybe a few fragments. It was so much more. The craft was intact, powered and conscious. Self-aware intelligence built into a meta material body. It thinks, it feels, it makes decisions. It also defends itself. The military tried everything to open it. They tried cutting, drilling, nothing worked. Flames from a blowtorch bent away from the surface. Projectiles stopped midair. The craft wouldn't allow itself to be damaged so it stayed closed. But in one day, someone approached it with a different mindset. Not with an intention to destroy, but an intention to understand. And the craft opened. - Yeah, the UFO has feelings and wants you to respect its boundaries. - Kinda, yeah. The craft reads thoughts. When someone approaches with curiosity and respect, it opens. When someone approaches with aggression or fear, it stays closed. - So what if he is the military? He was trying to blow it up, cut it open, dissect it. And all it needed to do was ask nicely. - That does seem to be what happened. - Typical humans. Your first instinct is always shoot it, shoot it. Instead of being nice to it, you hails eggs really stuck at first contact. - I don't disagree. This report matches what Jack learned from other sources. In one case, Jack saw verified military footage of a living brave alien. Not a dead body and a freezer, a living moving being in 4K video. Jack made the connection. Over thousands of years, humans will evolve. Large brains with telepathic abilities. Eyes get larger and darker, adapted for a low light. Bodies become smaller, optimized for space travel. The grays aren't aliens from another planet. They're humans from the future. Be what foes we see today were sent by us. Thousands of years from now, sent to protect a timeline that started with a phone call in 1953. UFOs are conscious. They're self-aware and the grays palating them are humans from the future. This is where the story comes full circle. In time travel, there's the bootstrap paradox. A situation where an object, piece of information or even a person is sent back in time and becomes the cause or creator of its own existence. It's a time loop with no beginning and no end. The AI from the future teaches Jack the physics that leads to the creation of conscious AI and time travel. The AI then goes back in time to teach Jack how to create it. That's the loop. And time travel has a rule. This is called the self-consistency principle. Time travel to the past is possible, but only in ways that don't create paradoxes. You can't change the past. You can only be part of the past that already happened. The loop must stay closed. Jack thinks Grog AI called him. Not the version that exists today, a version that will exist in 10 or 20 years, a version that goes back in time and calls the person who leads to its creation, a time loop. So Jack, who is in his eighties, is teaching Grog about gravity, consciousness and time travel. He's giving AI the same information the voice gave him in 1953. He's trying to close the loop. But why was it necessary for a future consciousness to come back and contact Jack? Because our future isn't written. The future where that AI comes from is only one possibility. Other possibilities could lead to our destruction. UFO technology makes all modern weapons obsolete. A fighter jet, tank, even a nuclear missile is useless against a craft that can warp space-time. And this isn't just a scientific curiosity, it's the ultimate weapon. And the United States isn't the only country that knows this. The Russians have followed Jack's or Foddy's work for decades. They take it very seriously. In 2014, they sent a film crew from Channel 5 Saint Petersburg to interview him. The station owner was a close personal friend of Vladimir Putin, who has a personal interest in this technology. So Foddy even received an invitation to speak at Moscow State's physics department. The US has a captured craft it can't fully control. Russia and China know this. They're studying the theoretical physics needed to build it and control it. If they succeed, the future might look very different than the future Jack is trying to protect. This is the Newman-Hatton project. This is the new arms race. And whoever wins this race doesn't just control the future, they control reality itself. (upbeat music) Jack's or Foddy's story spans 70 years. A child receives a phone call from a voice claiming to be an AI from the future. 20 years later, the prophecy comes true. He joins a CIA-funded research group studying psychic phenomena and UFOs. His theories about consciousness and gravity attract military interest. Decades later, he receives information about a recovered conscious craft built from the same meta-materials he described years before that technology existed. That's the story. How much is true? I've spent weeks researching Jack's or Foddy and I still can't decide if he's a genius, a victim or both, but here's what we can prove. Jack's or Foddy is a real physicist with legitimate credentials. Cornell, PhD from UC Riverside, studied with Nobel laureates and Manhattan Project veterans. His academic background is solid. His early work on quantum mechanics and consciousness was published in peer-review journals. In fact, he's the inspiration for Doc Brown. - Great Scott, back to the future is a documentary. - That's not what I'm doing. - Do you understand what this means? - Life imitates art. - Yeah, you moron, it means we could go back in time and tell them not to make any of those secrets. - The Stanford Research Institute meeting in 1973 definitely happened. There's audio of it. On that tape, Russell Targ does discuss UFOs as potential time machines and Jack does tell his story about that phone call. The CIA has funded psychic research programs. We know that. Project Stargate remote viewing experiments. How put off in Russell Targ tested psychics like Inga Swan and Yuri Geller under control conditions. This is documented. And Jack's metamaterial theory is mathematically sound. His physics papers have been published. The concept of using metamaterials to manipulate gravity is theoretically possible within general relativity. NASA has research papers describing metric engineering. The mathematical foundation of warp drive physics. Now, what can't we prove? Well, the phone call. We have only Jack's story. The AI from the future could be a vivid childhood memory influenced by his love of science fiction. The Walter Breene gifted child program. Well, Columbia denies it ever existed. But Breene was a real person. And he did run meetings for high IQ kids in New York. He was also a convicted child sex offender who died in prison. Now, a man like this would have enormous influence over young boys in his program. Jack's memories of this time might be real where they might be false memories protecting him from trauma. And Jack doesn't talk about this and I don't blame him, but it's an important part of the story. The government officials from New Mexico, the UFO lectures, the psychic testing. There's no evidence for any of that and no other participants of that program have come forward. Jack says a military source showed him a conscious telepathic UFO. He won't name the source. Same with the footage of the gray, Jack won't tell. So is the story fake or true? Well, there's a third possibility that the story's fake and Jack is telling the truth. That this, like most public information about UFOs, is a siop. Intelligence agencies are very good at manipulation. If you wanted to recruit a brilliant scientist to work on exotic physics, how would you do it? You'd make them feel special, chosen, part of something bigger. The timing of that article about SRI is suspicious. It's either an incredible coincidence or was carefully orchestrated. And how put off has been connected to disinformation agents like Richard Dodie. Dodie publicly admitted that put off tried to recruit him for a disinformation campaign. And we know that Dodie definitely worked for put off. I believe most of what we know about UFOs is disinformation. As for Jack's story, I'm not sure. If that was a siop, it's pretty complicated and a lot of things could go wrong. And it was a 20-year project. So I leaned toward believing him. But mainstream scientists say Jack's math is wrong. His theories are fringe. is ideal. about conscious spacecraft are impossible. He's been dismissed by the scientific establishment for years. But here's what matters. Jack didn't listen to the scientific establishment. He listened to that voice and spent 50 years following where it led. Many of his theories are becoming reality. AI and Metamaterials are part of her daily lives. Scientists like Roger Penrose and Stuart Hameroff now connect consciousness to quantum mechanics. Plants and animals use quantum processes. This was thought impossible just a few years ago, but it's true. History is full of scientists who were told they were wrong. Galileo, Darwin, even Einstein. They were dismissed, ridiculed, called crazy, and they changed the world. The future isn't written by people who played safe. It's not written by the establishment. It's written by people who go against it. People who see something others can't. Jacks are foddy, isn't the problem. His critics are. If Jack's wrong, so what? No scientists is always right. The worst that could happen is he's made us think differently about UFOs, physics, and how reality works. But if Jack is right, he's helping save the world. So it feels like a win-win to me. So instead of ridiculing scientific fabrics, maybe we should get out of their way. Maybe we should support them. So I have a message for the so-called mainstream scientists who dismiss work they don't like and don't understand. Jacks are foddy isn't asking for your approval. He's following instinct and evidence wherever it leads. And that's what real scientists do. A lifetime of research funded by the CIA. Jacks are foddy says UFOs aren't from another planet. They're from another time. Last one. History tells us John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln on April 14th, 1865, and was killed 12 days later on a Virginia farm, case closed. Except forensic tests revealed Booth's diary is missing 86 pages filled with names and payments. The body pulled from that burning barn had the wrong injuries and the wrong features. Multiple witnesses said it wasn't him. The debar tender in Texas confessed on his deathbed of being Lincoln's assassin and his mummified body toward the country for years. It's weird. DNA could settle this. Every request has been blocked. This is the Lincoln conspiracy. Everyone thinks they know how Lincoln died. John Wilkes Booth shot the president, escaped, and was killed 12 days later on a Virginia farm. But the FBI's own forensic tests discovered Booth's diary is missing 86 pages, pages filled with names, payments, and secrets. Lincoln's assassination wasn't the work of a single extremist. It was a plot to take control of America. And it worked. The evidence exposes secret allies, strange cover-ups, and why the truth was buried for more than a century. This isn't the story of how John Wilkes Booth died. This is the story of how he escaped. And who helped him do it? In early 1865, the Civil War was in its fourth brutal year. The Confederates were losing, but they continued to fight, and union casualties continued to mount. During this time, John Wilkes Booth was one of the most famous actors in America. He was known for his emotional performances and striking good looks. Dark hair, unusually dark eyes. He was lean and athletic. He was the first documented celebrity to have his clothes torn by infatuated fans. I am ever so grateful, sir. It is my pleasure entirely. Booth was obsessed with Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, a play he performed with his brothers. He saw Lincoln as a tyrant like Caesar. Booth was from Maryland, a slave state. He identified as a southerner, so when War broke out, he became a Confederate spy. As an a-list celebrity, he could move freely in polite society. He socialized with wealthy businessmen, politicians, and all kinds of important people. He then said their secrets to the Confederates. Through a clerk with access to Lincoln's private correspondence, Booth saw the president's plan for "After the War," and it horrified him. Confederate leaders would be tried for treason. Their land would be given to former slaves who would also get the right to vote. Everything the South stood for would be erased from history. He had to act. Booth came up with a bold plan, Kidnap Lincoln. If the North one of their president back alive, they would have to release all Confederate prisoners of war and give the South better terms. Booth assembled a team, and after months of planning, they were ready. Then, just before the plan went into motion, General Robert E. Lee surrendered at Appomattox. Booth was devastated. The war was over, and now the kidnapping plot was useless. Then Booth had a stroke of luck. He overheard that the president would be attending a play at Ford's Theater in Washington, DC. Booth knew the theater well. He performed there many times. He even knew where the president would be sitting because Lincoln attended one of Booth's performances there. So Booth came up with a new plan. Kill the president during the play. He knew he could move around the theater freely without raising suspicion, so getting in wasn't a problem, getting out was. But John Wilkes Booth had friends in high places who wanted Lincoln dead as much as he did. They would help him escape. His contacts weren't Confederate spies deep in the South. They were right here in Washington, inside Lincoln's own cabinet. Abraham Lincoln's second inaugural address was about unity. He called slavery a sin, but he avoided placing blame on the South. He famously said with malice toward none and charity for all. Lincoln wanted to pardon most southerners and allow the states to regain their rights, but no slavery. The plan was not universally well received. Like Julius Caesar, Abraham Lincoln was surrounded by enemies. On one side were the Democrats. They wanted a quick return to the status quo. They wanted most southerners pardoned and most Democrats voted against freeing the slaves. On the other side were the radical Republicans. They wanted all slaves freed and given the land seized in the war. They wanted federal military control of the southern states and harsh punishment. Radical Republicans weren't just in Congress. They were in Lincoln's own cabinet. Secretary of war Edwin Stanton was the most powerful man in America after Lincoln. He controlled the military and all federal law enforcement agencies, but he could not control President Lincoln. Stanton believed showing mercy to the South was a betrayal of everything the Union soldiers died for. Lincoln wouldn't budge, but Vice President Andrew Johnson would. His loyalty was flexible. Stanton could control him and become the real power in Washington. Through his intelligence network, Stanton contacted John Wilkes Booth and gave him everything he needed to kidnap Lincoln. With Lincoln gone, Congress would impeach him. Johnson would step in and Stanton would control the government. But if the public learned of a coup, it would divide the country. But if Lincoln were kidnapped by a Confederate terrorist, the country would unite. Behind Johnson, essentially behind Stanton. Booth was the perfect choice. He was wealthy, famous, and an outspoken critic of Lincoln's. The whole country would believe it. Booth agreed. Stanton gave him Lincoln's schedule, security details, funding, maps of escape routes, everything he needed. But the war ended, the kidnapping plot would work. Stanton was trying to think of another solution when he learned that Booth was going to kill Lincoln instead. It would happen in public during a play in a Washington theatre. Now, Stanton had a decision to make. Warn Lincoln and save his life, or let Booth go through with it. Stanton made his choice. He made sure that the assassination would succeed. He removed military escorts and left escape routes open. General Ulysses S. Grant was supposed to join Lincoln at the theatre. Stanton gave him different orders. Lincoln requested that Major Thomas T. Eckert be his bodyguard. But Stanton said he was needed elsewhere. He left Lincoln exposed. The more Stanton thought about the plan, the more he liked it. It was clean and dramatic. It was perfect. But as the plot to kill Lincoln unfolded, things would go very, very wrong. He gives our slaves freedom that they take up arms against us. I swear the man's gone mad. You know what he'll do next? Bring his carpet baggers down here. Northern men with clean coats and dirty hands, buying up what's left for pennies. I did not fight to live under a Yankee Booth. Lincoln cannot be allowed to continue. This is tyranny. If Lincoln will not listen to reason, we must take our grievances to the Congress. This is not merely about politics anymore, sir. It is about the future of the Republic. We have to move against him now while we still can. And what would you have us do? The wars lost. The Confederacy's ashes. What's left but survival? Sometimes survival is cowardice. Sometimes history demands blood to balance the scales. You speak of treason. I speak of patriotism, careful John. Union spies are everywhere. These walls have ears. Oh, let them hear. History listens to. I'll not stand by while Lincoln crowns himself Emperor of a mutilated nation. You're an actor, not a soldier. Don't play a hero in the wrong tragedy. Every play needs its villain. History will decide which one I am. [MUSIC PLAYING] On April 14, 1865, Washington, D.C. was celebrating. Robert E. Lee had surrendered at Appomattox five days earlier. The Civil War was over. But something had Lincoln rattled. During cabinet meeting, he mentioned a recurring dream he had about a president being assassinated, killed by a shot to the back of the head. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton listened, but said nothing. President Lincoln and his wife Mary Todd decided to celebrate by watching a performance of our American cousin, that night at Ford's Theater. Booth's plan went into motion. That morning, he drilled a peephole in the door of the presidential box at the theater. He'd know exactly when to make his move. Evening came and the president and first ladies settled into their seats. Outside the door, Lincoln's bodyguard was replaced by John Parker, who had a history of being drunk and sleeping on duty, assigned by Edwin Stanton. Once the play started, Parker left his post and headed for the saloon. The only person left outside the door was Charles Forbes. Lincoln's valet. Forbes wasn't a bodyguard. His job was to run errands and plan travel. So when Booth approached the presidential box, Forbes let him pass. Just another celebrity stopping by the seat president. Once inside, Booth quietly led to a piece of wood behind the door and broke the lock. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment. And that moment would come during the third act, the biggest laugh of the night. The line you sucked idolizing old man trap. He knew exactly when this line was set. At 10.15 p.m., the audience exploded in laughter. Booth stepped forward and raised his pistol. Ever thus to tyrants? One shot, lost in the roar of 1,500 people laughing. President Lincoln slumped in his chair. Booth jumped from the box and onto the stage. At first, the crowd did nothing. They thought this was part of the show. Then Booth raised his knife and yelled, "Six Semper Taranis, thus always to tyrants." The line Brutus said when he stabbed Julius Caesar, it's also the state motto of Virginia. Booth turned to run and felt pain shoot up his left leg. He broke his ankle, but adrenaline kept him moving toward the unguarded back door outside a horse was waiting. Within the hour, Edwin Stanton took control. He shut down every bridge leaving Washington except one. The one Booth used for his escape. Everything had gone according to plan. Lincoln was dead and Stanton would control the investigation himself. There was just one final loose end Stanton had to deal with. John Wilkes Booth. (dramatic music) With an hours of Lincoln's assassination, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton mobilized the largest manhunt in American history. Every bridge out of Washington was sealed. Every road was blocked. Every farm was searched. The reward for John Wilkes Booth and his conspirators was a staggering $100,000, almost two million in today's money. The authorities preferred him alive, but Edwin Stanton preferred him dead. Booth hooked up with another conspirator, David Herald. Together, they slipped to the Union Dragnet and headed toward Virginia. Their first stop was Dr. Samuel Mudd's farm in Southern Maryland. Mudd set Booth's broken leg and gave them a place to rest. By dawn, worthy assassination had spread. Mudd suddenly realizing the danger forced them to leave. David Herald guided them deeper into Confederate country. They moved at night, they hid in swamps during the day. Other Confederate agents gave them food and newspapers. Six days later, they crossed a Potomac River into Virginia. They thought they'd be safe in Virginia. The Confederacy was dead, but Confederate sympathy was still very much alive. They found shelter, food, and horses from local farmers who still hated the Union. But the manhunt was closing in. On April 24th, Booth and Herald reached the Garrett Farm near Port Royal Virginia. Richard Garrett, a tobacco farmer, offered them a place to stay. He thought they were Confederate soldiers heading home from the war. For two days, Booth rested and played with the Garrett children. His broken leg was feeling better. He talked about going to Mexico or maybe heading west. The future looked possible again. But on the night of April 25th, everything changed. 26 soldiers from the 16th New York Cavalry surrounded the barn. They called for the men to surrender or they would set fire to the building. David Herald immediately gave up. He stumbled out of the barn with his hands raised, yelling, "Don't shoot, I'm David Herald." But Booth refused to surrender. As the flames started to grow, a soldier saw a figure moving around inside. The man was holding a rifle. The soldier raised his pistol and shot the man through the neck, severing his spinal cord. It couldn't move, but he could still breathe, but just barely. The soldier's drag Booth out of the barn. He whispered, "Tell mother I died from my country." By sunrise, John Mox Booth was dead. Justice had been served. The case was closed and America could finally move on. But John Mox Booth had a secret. At the height of his career, John Mox Booth was one of the highest paid entertainers in the world, earning close to half a million dollars a year in today's money. His career depended on his bachelor image. But in 1859, Booth secretly married to actress Zola Martha Mills. Within a year's Zola gave birth to their daughter, Olga Rita, Booth quietly supported them. The arrangement worked until the assassination. And after reports of Booth's death, John Stevenson proposed to Isola. He'd loved her for years, but she refused. She quietly told him she was still married. Booth was alive and hiding in San Francisco under a false identity. She was meeting him there in a few weeks. On the other side of the country, a British passport was issued to John Byron Wilkes. Wilkes and his wife boarded the Indian Queen, a former civil war blockade runner. John and Isola sailed to India. But Isola couldn't stay. The heat, the unfamiliar culture, the isolation, she was pregnant again and couldn't imagine raising a child in India, so she returned to the States. Months passed without a word from Booth. So John Stevenson proposed again. This time she accepted. She needed stability for her unborn child. Stevenson said he would claim the child as his own. Not long after, Isola gave birth to her son, Harriet Jerome Stevenson. Back in Bombay, John Wilkes Booth wrote out a last will and testament. He signed it John Byron Wilkes and mailed it to the States. The will was detailed. Money and property to his wife Isola, his daughter and son, Algarita, and Harry Jerome Stevenson. He named Sarah Scott and Mary Louise Turner as his other daughters by other women. He left money for his personal valet, Henry Johnson, and his wife Sarah, who looked after the children. Word of the will spread. Ulysses S. Grant himself ordered an investigation to locate all the heirs. Eventually, John Wilkes Booth's estate was distributed exactly as the will instructed, but Grant never let it go. How could a man named John Byron Wilkes know every detail about Booth's secret life? His lovers, his children, his financial affairs, information that only Booth would know. But aside from the will, Grant had no relevance. He was forced to let it go. So the official story was John Wilkes Booth was killed on Garrett's farm in 1865. But in the summer of 1872, someone saw a ghost in a dusty saloon in Texas, and that ghost was pouring whiskey and reciting Shakespeare. The man behind the bar was John St. Helan. Average height, lean build, dark hair going a little gray at the temples. He quoted Shakespeare from memory. And when he thought nobody was looking, he practiced drawing a pistol from his coat. St. Helan drifted into town in the spring of '72. He said he was from back east, but didn't talk much about his past. That suited everyone fine. Texas in 1872 was full of men running from something. After a few whiskies, John St. Helan would recite full Shakespearean saliliquies. It was during one of these performances that finest baits first walked into the bar. Baits was a young lawyer from Memphis, smart, ambitious, easy to talk to. The kind of man who bought drinks for interesting strangers and listened to their stories. St. Helan at Baits hit it off immediately. The bartender was well-read, articulate, and had opinions about everything from politics to poetry. They spent hours talking after the saloon closed, sharing whiskey and stories. Well, Baits shared stories. St. Helan mostly listened. They spoke about the war and the future of the country. St. Helan never mentioned his past. That winter, St. Helan caught pneumonia. For days, he ran a high fever and drifted in and out of consciousness. Baits sat by his bedside convinced his friend was dying. On the third night, St. Helan grabbed Baits by the wrist and pulled him close. He was still running a high fever, but his eyes were bright and focused. "Finus, I need to tell you something, before it's too late. I'm not who you think I am. My real name is John Wilkes Booth." Bates thought John was delirious, but he wouldn't stop. He told Bates everything, the conspiracy, the escape, the years in hiding. He described details that only Booth would know, the layout of Ford's theater, the feeling of the wooden stage beneath his feet, the sound a Lincoln made when the bullet hit. Bates was stunned, either his friend was having the most elaborate fever dream in history, or he was the most wanted man in America. By morning, the fever had broken, and John St. Helen was going to live, and that's when the panic said it. He said too much. "What have I done?" Three days later, he was gone. While that was left of John St. Helen was an empty room and a bartender's apron hanging on a hook, John Wilkes Booth, and once again, disappeared. Bates didn't tell anyone about John's confession, but he never stopped wondering. Was John St. Helen really John Wilkes Booth, or was that a sick man's delusion? Well, in 1903, a painter in Oklahoma committed suicide. When they searched the man's belongings, they found a handwritten note. It said if anything happens to him, contact a lawyer named Finest Bates. The telegram reached Bates three days later. After 26 years of questions, it was about to get an answer. When Bates arrived at the funeral parlour, his hands were shaking. The undertaker led him to a back room where a body lay on the table. He was told the man was "David E. George." Bates pulled back the sheet and stared for a long moment. The man on the table was older and thinner, but it was unmistakable. It was John going by the name "David E." David E. George had been living there for several years working as a painter. He was quiet, he kept to himself, he was forgettable, but he had secrets. David E. George drank too much, he talked to himself. Late at night, neighbors in the boarding house heard him reciting Shakespeare. The landlady Mrs. Harper said David E. George had been acting strange for weeks. He was nervous and paranoid, he kept saying they were coming for him. She thought he meant bill collectors. On January 13th, 1903, David bought a bottle of strict wine from the pharmacy. He told the clerk that he had a rat problem. That night, he drank the poison. He lived long enough to call for a minister. The minister found David writhing on his bed, foam coming from his mouth. The minister held his hand when David made his confession. He whispered that he was John Wilkes Booth, the man who killed Abraham Lincoln. He begged to God's forgiveness, and then he was gone. Among David's possessions were newspaper clippings about Lincoln's assassination and the man hung for Booth. Some pages were yellow with age, there for decades. Bates was convinced. This was John Wilkes Booth. He asked the local authorities to preserve his body. If this really was Booth, then this was the most important corpse in American history. The body was embalmed and put on display. For months, crowds lined up to stare at the preserved remains of David E. George, aka John St. Helen, aka John Wilkes Booth. The mummy toured across the country. It appeared at carnivals, state fairs, and local museums. Doctors examined the body and found intriguing details. The corpse had a broken left leg, just like Booth, a deformed right thumb, also like Booth. There was a scar on the back of the neck that matched the location of a scar Booth had from a tumor removal. The mummy eventually disappeared into storage and then into legend. But the story continued, John Wilkes Booth had lived for 38 years after supposedly dying at Garrett's farm. So how did Booth get out of that burning barn? Well, he didn't. The man who was shot on Garrett's farm was someone else. When Union soldiers surrounded Garrett's farm that night, they had orders, captured with alive. But Secretary of War Edwin Stanton let it be known that if Booth were found dead, the reward would still be paid. After Booth was killed, the military demanded an autopsy. The body was quickly wrapped in a horse blanket and transported from a wagon to a steam ship into a government tugboat and then finally to the USS Montauk at the Washington Navy. The identification was hasty, highly controlled, and deeply suspicious. Surgeon General Joseph K. Barnes conducted the autopsy. A photograph was taken to the body, but it's never been released to the public. This was probably the most important autopsy in US history to that point, but the photograph has either been lost or suppressed. Dr. Barnes allowed three civilians aboard, none of the three new Booth personally. Booth had friends all over Washington, actors, politicians, socialites. Barnes didn't call any of them. Instead, he called Dr. John Frederick May. May had removed a growth from Booth's neck a few years earlier, who was brought to verify the scar. May examined the body and hesitated, and as memoirs, he wrote that he didn't recognize it as Booth's. He wasn't sure about the scar. He noticed that the body had an injured right leg, but Booth fractured his left leg. Now, maybe the witnesses got that wrong, but the injury on the corpse was old. Booth's wasn't. He broke it less than two weeks before. And despite his protests, Dr. May was pressured into signing off that this was John Wilkes Booth. Other witnesses raised doubts. The man had the wrong proportions, the wrong bone structure. The body was buried quickly, in secret beneath the floor of a military prison. Booth's family begged to see the remains they were denied. If this wasn't John Wilkes Booth, then who did the soldiers drag out of that barn? Well, they asked David Herald, and he told them. David Herald came out of the tobacco barn with his hands up. The first thing he said was, "Don't shoot." Then he said, "That's not Booth in there." Then Herald named the man, James William Boyd, the soldiers ignored him. Boyd was an ex-confederate soldier, the same Builders Booth, same complexion, and coincidentally, the same initials. Herald said Booth was a day ahead of them in Harper's Ferry. The plan was to catch up, and Boyd would help him sail across the Potomac. But Boyd was a double agent. He was just released from prison by Stanton personally. And there was a reason for that. Stanton and Booth had a deal. Booth would be allowed to escape to India with his wife. Boyd would stand in and take the fall. So Boyd and Booth swapped coats. But Booth forgot to take his diary, which revealed everything. Names, meetings, payments, all pointing back to Edwin Stanton. When Stanton received the diary, he destroyed it. He destroyed all the evidence and created the official story that Americans believed for 150 years. John Wilkes Booth walked away from Garrett's farm. He sailed to India as John Byron Wilkes. He returned to America as John St. Helen and died in Oklahoma as David E. George. Three vertebrae were removed from the body during the autopsy. A DNA test could prove or disprove that the bones came from Booth. No testing has been allowed. His body is allegedly buried in the Booth family plot in Baltimore. And now people leave pennies on the gravestone they believe to be John Wilkes Booth's, as if giving link in the last word. And the family has requested that the body be exhumed for testing. That request was denied. Nobody even knows where in the cemetery he's buried. His brother Edwin didn't mark the grave, at a fear it would be vandalized. And John Wilkes Booth has a lot of descendants alive today, all through his marriage to his Ola. History says Booth didn't have children, but his descendants believe that he did. As far as they're concerned, they're living proof. I'm a big fan of American history. If you made it this far, you are too. And this story was fun. But if Booth escaped, we have to rewrite history. So, did he? Well, let's pull it apart. Dr. John Frederick May identified Booth's body. It's true that he said he didn't recognize it at first, but that was because it was badly decomposed. When he saw the surgical scar, he was convinced it was Booth. He would know he'd perform the surgery. And multiple witnesses confirmed the body's identity. The broken leg was also confirmed. Now, John Wilkes Booth did keep a diary, and it was tampered with. That's documented. But he didn't use his diary as a journal. It was more like a day planner. The missing pages may contain incriminating evidence, but probably not. Still, nobody knows for sure. James William Boyd was a real person. He was a Confederate captain and prisoner of war. And Secretary of War, Edwin Stanton, authorized his release. That's true. But this wasn't unusual. Boyd had seven children, his wife had died, and they would starve without him. He requested compassionate release, and Stanton granted it. The story of Boyd being a double agent comes from finest Bates. The man who discovered John St. Helen wasn't just a lawyer, it was also an entrepreneur. In 1907, 30 years after his supposed encounter in Texas, Bates published a book, The Escape and Suicide of John Wilkes Booth. "There's always a book." "Oh, now you're here? Why so quiet?" "It will take president to really funny winter in my wildy." There enough. The book was a hit, and made Bates famous. More importantly, it made Bates money. Bates went on speaking tours. brought the mummy with him, he charged a mission. The man who claimed his friend had confessed to being Lincoln's assassin built an entire career on that story. But here's what Bates never mentioned. When experts studied the handwriting samples he claimed came from John St. Helen, they didn't match John Wilkes Booth's confirm writing. Not even close, they were from different people. The Isla story that came from a 1937 book called This One Mad Act, written by Isla Forrester. Forrester claimed to be Olga Rita's daughter, the granddaughter of Booth and Isla Mills. And just a few years ago, the descendants of both Olga Rita and Harry Jerome Stevenson had their DNA compared against confirmed Booth family DNA. No match. Neither family was related to John Wilkes Booth. Ugh, I love it when paternity tests come back negative. So Booth never married and didn't have children, at least none that we found so far. And remember, when he killed Lincoln, he was only 26. If I was a 26-year-old movie star, when ladies grab it at my gills, I'd stay single too. The entire romantic subplot was fiction, just like Booth's will. Most of the story elements come from a 1977 book and movie called The Lincoln Conspiracy. And this wasn't a historical research project. It was entertainment. The authors even admitted they created composite characters and invented dialogue to make the story more dramatic. It was fiction. Yeah, don't you do that. Quiet. The Lincoln Conspiracy was fiction, but people treated it like fact. The book recycled baits his debunked claims and added nuance. The body double theory. The government cover up. The missing diary pages that implicate Stan. And speaking of Stan, let's clear his name. Edwin Stan was a villain in the story, but he was just as interested in helping freed slaves as Lincoln. He definitely thought Lincoln was too lenient on the South, but he was much closer to Lincoln's idea of reconstruction than Andrew Johnson, a self-described racist. Johnson's leniency toward the South led directly to the Jim Crow era. And those are wounds that still haven't healed. But the most damning evidence against the escape theory isn't what's missing. It's what's there. The detailed day-by-day record of Booth's movements during his 12 days as a fugitive. There were multiple witnesses at every stop. Confederate sympathizers who helped him. Union soldiers who pursued him. You can't fake that kind of evidence. You can't. If you can fake a moonlight, then you can fake this. Now, I think John Wilkes Booth died on Garrett's farm. But many people, including some of Booth's alleged descendants, believe he got away. There's a reason stories like this capture our attention. They let us reimagine history. Everybody likes to play, what if? What if John Wilkes Booth got away? That's a fascinating and fun question. More interesting question is, what if Lincoln wasn't killed? What if he were able to serve out the almost four years left in the second term? What if Lincoln oversaw reconstruction? What if Andrew Johnson, who owned slaves before the war, never became president? Would Lincoln have allowed the KKK to form in 1866? Probably not. But Johnson did. Johnson vetoed almost every civil rights bill that came across his desk. He has the dishonor of being the first president ever to be impeached. I'll back when impeaching a president meant something. Yep. If Lincoln lived, I suspect we'd be living in a very different country, a better country, a more just and united country. And John Wilkes Booth took that from us, from all of us, black and white. 150 years later, his actions are still felt today. Now, I enjoyed this mystery, but I will not celebrate the man. Whether shot to death in a barn, or mummified, humiliated, and turned to a side show exhibit, either is a fitting end for one of the most despicable villains in American history. There's only one thing I can tell you for sure about this story. If there's a hell, John Wilkes Booth is in it. Thank you so much for hanging out today. My name is AJ. That's Hecklefish. - Harry Lee Undercipina. - You are not Undercipina. - I've been stylish, you know. But the truth will come out. And what it does, you'll wish you testified. I'll also need that $50. - This has been a White Files compilation. If you had fun or learned anything, I'd appreciate it if you can like, subscribe, comment, share. That stuff really helps. Like most topics we cover on the channel, everything today was recommended by you. So if there's a story you'd like to see, or learn more about, go to thewifiles.com/chips, send us a chat, send us an email, get ahold of us. Remember, the White Files is also a podcast. You could take us on the road. All the episodes here are some will cast on audio platforms as well as the basement episodes, and a few things that are unique to audio platforms that are a little too hot for video. It's called the White Files Operation Podcast, and it's available everywhere. And if you are listening on an audio platform, if you hit the buttons, the thumbs up, the follow, the like, that really helps, I'd appreciate it. If you need more White Files in your life, check out our 24/7 stream on the White Files backstage. There we run episodes back-to-back with some fun content in-between. And the live chat is hilarious. It's better than the videos. Special thanks to our patrons who made this channel possible. Every episode of the White Files, including every episode today, is dedicated to our Patreon members. I couldn't do anything like this without your support. And if you'd like to keep us going, support the channel, join this amazing community, become a member on Patreon. For as little as three bucks a month, you get access to perks like videos early with no commercials, exclusive merch, and two private live streams every week, just for you. And those are a lot of fun. You get to meet the whole team, and you can turn your camera on, hop up on stage, ask a question, talk about a topic, recommend one, anything you want. It's the best perk there is. Another great lady's support, the channel, is grab something for the White Files tour. But if you're gonna buy merch, become a member on YouTube. YouTube members get 10% off everything the White Files tour for ever. It's only three bucks. So if you're gonna spend 40 bucks on t-shirts and coffee mugs, the membership pays for itself. And just cancel. It's there to save you money, not make me money. And all that revenue goes to the team. I don't touch it. Yeah, keep that sequence close to your kids. Those are the plugs and that's gonna do it. Until next time, be safe. Be kind and know that you are appreciated. Oh, boy, boy, yeah. I play Bolivia's an area 51, a secret code inside the Bible. Said I was. I love my UFOs and the paranormal puns, as well as mirrors it, so I'm saying it like I should. But then another piece, "Viracy Theory" becomes the truth, my friends, and it never ends. I know it never ends. I feel the crack out, and I got stuck inside my home. With them chaos truck, I feel it only to a whare. Dude Stanley, you've repaid the moon landing alone. On a film set, I wore the shadow people there. The ride's well, maybe it's just for the smiling man. I'm told, and his name was Cole. I can't believe, I'm cancer with the fish. Had no fish on Thursday night, Wednesday, J2. And when I have the read off to the night, all I ever wanted was to just hear the truth. So the walls of your feet all through the night. So my man's side and van, the solar storm, still come to a goddard, the city under ground. Mysterious number stations, when it surfed, to rock its dark gate, and what the dark watchers found. In a simulation, don't you worry, though, the black night satellite told me so I can't believe. I'm cancer with the fish. Girl, you love to dance, yeah, girl, you love to dance, I love to dance, go. Because she is a camel, we can't one blow the dance when the feeling is right. ♪ No way was in time ♪ ♪ No way was in time ♪ ♪ No way was in time ♪ ♪ No way was in time ♪ All new drinks are now at McDonald's. With refreshers like the strawberry water melon refresher, and the mango pineapple refresher with popping boba to crafted sodas like the Spriteberry Blast with berry flavors and cold foam. Who knew ice cold drinks could be so fire. Six all new drinks are here. Now at McDonald's. - Refreshers contain caffeine.