UFOs. Alien beings. The Paranormal. The Cryptozoic. The Prehistorical. The Ontological. The Scatological (no, sorry). It?s ?
The story you are about to read is (essentially) true. No names have been changed to protect anybody.
(Except for one name we had to withhold because he was a spineless little chicken. Bawk, bawk bawk bawk, baaaawk ? )
The Testimony of David Henderson, Retired Officer for the Phoenix Police Department
My name is David Henderson. From 1978 to 1998 I was a patrol officer for the Phoenix Metro Police Department. I was part of an incident that made it obvious to me our government is hiding the truth about UFOs and alien beings, and that really ticks me off.
On Thursday evening, March 13, 1997, the same night of the ?Phoenix Lights? incident you?ve probably heard about, I was on patrol with my ?partner? (whose name I?m withholding because he said he?d sue me if I didn?t, the little pansy). We?d been hearing some radio chatter about the UFO sightings, and I remember looking at my (so-called) ?partner? and rolling my eyes.
At 2100 hours we picked up a call to respond to the home of Alberto Mu?oz, a fellow policeman who was off duty at the time. The call was a B&E (breaking and entering), but Mu?oz had been able to get the perp under restraint.
When we got in, we couldn?t believe what we saw. Mu?oz had something that looked just like the little grey alien on the cover of that book Communion, hand- and leg-cuffed with tie straps and laying face down on the floor.
The first thing Mu?oz?s said was that he couldn?t tell the dispatcher this because we?d never have been sent out.
I didn?t think it could get any stranger, but it did: I was beginning to feel like we didn?t want anything to do with this and we should let this thing go and Mu?oz?s next words were: ?This thing?s going to make you feel like you don?t want anything to do with it and we should let it go.?
I will have to admit that, even though I think of myself as a fairly brave individual, this was pretty creepy. (I?m surprised my ?partner? didn?t pee his pants, the little wuss.)
Mu?oz pulled the thing off of the floor, and in spite of myself (and a nagging sense of personal shame) I was overwhelmed with a compulsion to grab Mu?oz by the shoulder, and I heard myself saying, ?Hey, maybe we should let it go.? Mu?oz then hit the thing with his taser for a couple of seconds, and the compulsion I was feeling went away in a heartbeat.
When we got it down to the station we charged it with breaking and entering. Mu?oz said he knew the thing was going to abduct him, but we couldn?t charge it with attempted kidnapping because we couldn?t enter telepathic communication into evidence. (If we only could.)
But at least we could charge it with being in the country illegally.
It was only appropriate that we made Oliver South, our Police Chief, aware of it as soon as we could, and after suffering about ten minutes of harsh language as he disputed our sanity, our intelligence, and ? well ? let?s say the marital status of our mothers, he understood we weren?t jerking him around and went to the holding cells to see for himself.
That afternoon he called me, my dear ?partner,? and Mu?oz into his office and told us he?d had a phone call from the Director of Central Intelligence. The director called him ?a bloated little zit on the butt of our bureaucracy,? and told him that ?the powers that be would pop him if he got in the way.? Then the Director ordered the Chief to let the creature go. The Chief stuck to his guns and told the Director it was outside of his jurisdiction and if he didn?t like it he could go ?file a complaint to someone who gave a rat?s ass,? a line I was particularly proud of him saying.
Unfortunately, it turned out it was probably not the wisest thing he could have done.
The Chief still wasn?t sure where to turn. Governor Symington wasn?t going to be any help ? it was obvious the little pantywaist had knuckled under because he had just put on that damned insulting press conference with the guy dressed up like an alien that made a joke out of the whole Phoenix Lights event. Obviously he was going to be about as much help to us as a refrigerator to an Eskimo. Then Mu?oz suggested going to our Washington representatives. I think the Chief was starting to work on that when we left him.
That night my partner and I had just delivered a DWI to Booking, and the lights went out and instantly it was a lot warmer. I looked at my watch and realized I was missing about 40 minutes. It turned out everyone else in the building had, too. Just then the power came back up and the holding cell alarms went off, and a few minutes later we learned the little alien had escaped.
As it turned out, the Chief vanished at about the same time, and, unfortunately, his whereabouts are still unknown. It was while he was heading home, and his car was found on a frontage road just off of his normal commute route, and the front seat and floor were covered with what the forensics lab determined to be about fourteen gallons of strawberry ice cream. This was a mystery to all of us.
A few hours after the missing time I spoke to the duty officer for the video security desk, and she told me there was a few seconds of nothing but snow on all the videotapes when all of this happened. She also told me that on the roof camera tape there was a huge, triangle-shaped outline that came into view for a couple of seconds before the snow hit the screen.
A day later a bunch of CIA suits showed up, confiscated all the evidence, and read us the riot act to pretend that the whole thing had never happened. At that point I shut up, and stayed shut up until today.
It is obvious to me that if Chief South had cooperated with the Director of Central Intelligence he would probably still be here, working in City government somewhere today.
Considering the danger, why am I speaking up?
Yes, I am concerned that by speaking up something ugly will happen to me. Well, I don?t care. I am tired of being held hostage by my fear that there could be some kind of issue with my city government retirement plan. I am tired of calling up my bank every day to assure myself my accounts are still there. And I am fed up with checking under my toilet rim every single time to make sure there are no bombs.
So why am I speaking up? Because this whole thing really ticks me off! These wusses that sit in their unmarked vans with their illegal wiretap gear and their microphone dishes and their microwave mind controllers, they can?t come out and confront you like real men, NO. They gotta hide behind their secrecy and their bureaucrats and their lawyers like the whimpering little chihuahuas that they really are! So to all you sniveling black ops cowards out there IF YOU DON?T LIKE WHAT I?M SAYING HERE, COME GET A PIECE OF ME, YA GODDAMNED PANSIES!!
I will swear to the truthfulness of this experience in front of any congressional body or government inquest, so help me God.
Sincerely,
David K. Henderson
?
I attempted to contact David Henderson just prior to posting this article to clarify some points, and I discovered his phone was disconnected, someone else was living in his home who claimed to have been there for three years, and I am unable to find any trace of him on the internet.
Spooky? Yes.
But remember ?
? The Truth is in There.
http://www.highoddness.com/2008/02/25/t ... lien-1997/
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