Discover the truth behind one of the first major UFO crashes in the history of the world… and the organization behind it.

Piyush Shanbag & Ananya Dua

Glenn Dennis was a short man with a small stature. He was what you’d call inconspicuous, if you ignored the oversized black eyeglasses that adorned his narrow, pinched face. That morning he sat there, in the middle of his green kitchen, sipping away at his coffee. Tommy Dennis, his son, watched him with perplexity, as he flipped over the pages of the Roswell Daily Record scoffing with exasperation.

“Nothing worth reading here lately…just a bunch of junk,” he said as he slid the thick, brown paper across the table.

He continued to sip on his coffee, occasionally stopping to wipe the fog settled upon his eyeglasses. Tommy, sitting across from him, grabbed the paper and began flipping through the rest of the sheets, hoping to find a Calvin and Hobbes cartoon hidden in the midst.

Tommy was 13, and mostly a typical teenage boy. He enjoyed his cars and hanging out with his friends at malls. However, unlike most teenagers, he had an uncanny liking to supernatural activities, very much like his father. 

“Dad!” He called out in a piercing shriek, pointing to the page 4 headline. Glenn pulled the paper closer and held his hand over the headline. 

“RAAF Captures Flying Saucer On Ranch in Roswell Region,” he read incredulously.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you, Tommy! They’ve found an UFO!” He yelled. 

Within seconds he gulped down his scalding coffee, grabbed his blue pinstriped jacket and ran out the front door with Tommy.

The sun had just set, and the sky was an orangish hue. Glenn pulled out his nightcap and slipped into the sheets of his bed. He could hardly wait to learn more about the debris and the government’s say on it. 

“Extraterrestrials must exist. I’ve been saying it for years!” Glenn said, almost reassuring himself. He looked up at the white popcorn ceiling, and imagined himself and his dear son, drifting away on a spaceship and exploring everything the Milky Way has to offer.


“What?! That’s simply preposterous. Simply preposterous, I say!” Glenn yelled vigorously, shaking the big red cheeks of his. 

“Tommy! Listen to a bit of this. The United States Army Air Force is saying the Roswell Crash was simply a weather balloon. A weather balloon?! If that isn’t some government cover up!”.

“They’re saying it was a part of Project Mogul — the one that got Cold War surveillance of the Soviet Union,” Tommy chimed in. 

“And people are believing this rubbish?! God, I can’t fathom that no one’s even questioning them!”

“Dad, we must look into it! We need to uncover the truth!” Tommy said, starry-eyed. “You never know what we’ll find!”.

“No…no Tommy. It’s simply too dangerous right now, I must investigate under wraps myself” Glenn said cautiously.

Upon reaching the Roswell Army Air Field, Glenn was welcomed by a barren plot of land, scattered with debris as far as the eye could see. There was no one in sight as well; the crowd that had formed earlier that day had dispersed. They had waved off the stories soon after learning that they had been started by the local drunk, Willam Brazel. 

Surveying the area, Glenn walked along the barbed wire enclosing the region from the rest of Roswell. The place was in shambles; it was evident to Glenn that no one had utilized the property since the Cold War. 

For a second, he felt uneasy, questioning whether he should be there. The alienated land with bright read boards that read “no trespassing- private property”.

He continued to walk, however, stopping only at the row of examination rooms that were subbed in as temporary hospitals during the late 1940’s. 

Cobwebs hung from the doors. “Gosh!” Glenn exclaimed, caustically attempting to walk over broken glass shards as pushed open the door to “Examination Room 3”. 

As he pushed, the door creaked, and a sharp, high-pitched shriek bellowed from the room. 

Startled, Glenn Dennis inched back, planning his escape. 

A violent gust of wind hit; the tops of the rooms rattled. A wall of dust and debris stood before Glenn, threatening his very existence. The door flung open.

“Cripes! I must be careful if I don’t want to get arrested… Argh! But I simply have to take a peek.” Glenn cursed.

Blinded by the dust, Gleen winced and rubbed his eyes vigorously, attempting to extinguish any traces of dust. He shifted his glance toward room 3. 

A long gurney lay there; outstretched. Around it, stood three men huddled together in white coats. 

“White coats? For a weather balloon?!”. Glenn scoffed. “Damn right they’re hiding something.”

They had a small stature and long, spindly arms as well as oblong bald heads that shone with the overhead lights. 

“Hmm. It appears that these extraterrestrials have something similar to cells which make up their bodies… I do see a sort of nucleus right here Dr. Rutherford, how about you?” one of the men said in a baritone voice. “I wonder if we may evolve like this someday… our brains may get so big as we grow smarter, that we don’t require a rigid body structure.”

The extraterrestrial had big, black eyes, almost as if the entire universe was within it. Through the slim opening of the door, Glenn could hardly believe his eyes. 

“I told everyone didn’t I! I told ‘em. I told ‘em!” a voice boomed behind Glenn. Glenn turned around in utter shock. It was none other than William Brazel.

“William! We thought we told you to never speak of this. Security! Escort this man out of the premises. The next time, you’re going to prison Brazel!” Dr. Rutherford barked. “Wh- and who the hell are you?! Can someone tell me how a 200 pound, stout man, got through U.S. security!” 

Glenn bolted out without a second thought. Glenn’s forehead was dripping with sweat and was caked with dirt. Huffing and puffing, Glenn was in an almost delirious state due to the utter shock of his realization that aliens existed. 

“Aliens! They exist, people, they exist! CAN SOMEONE HEAR ME? THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT HAS ALIENS! ALIENS!” Glenn shrieked and yelled, as the townsmen gave suspicious looks towards him. 

“I’m not crazy I swear. I swear!” Glenn pleaded. “Brazel was right. He was right!”

Like a bull in a china shop, Glenn was out of his mind. 

“Oh, what’s wrong dad? What’s going on?!” Tommy asked as he spotted his father sprawled on the street.

“Tommy, believe me. Believe me! The weather balloon is all a lie…. They have aliens captive! ALIENS!”

From that day on… Glenn was ostracized by the town community, looped in with William Brazel as just another madman. Every single day Glenn tried his best to clean up his reputation, but he was and would forever be known as the “Lunatic of Roswell”.


“How is the analysis going Dr. Dennis?” 

“Just perfect, Adams. Pay attention to genetic recombination… It’s sure to be there on your certification next week.” Tommy Dennis, now 25, is one of the most trusted scientists working at Project Mogul. Standing before him, was one of the three extraterrestrials from the Roswell Crash. An eerily memorable image of a creature with a small stature and long, spindly arms as well as oblong bald heads that shone with the overhead lights appeared before Tommy on a white table— exactly how is beloved father had described years ago. 

“I can’t believe it Dad… It’s finally time you can be treated like a regular human being, no— a town hero, by proving every single darn vermin in Roswell wrong,” Tommy muttered under his breath while gritting his teeth with pure rage. 

“Here. I’ve printed the analysis for you. How about you take these and look over them a bit outside, Adams? I want to be alone here for a couple of minutes…” Tommy smiled as he handed over the papers to Adams, his apprentice. The sleek aluminum door slid shut and locked itself with a click, as Adams walked out with the stack of papers.

“Now. Time to set things straight.”

Tommy whipped out a cellphone, disguised as lab equipment, out of his pocket and aimed the camera at the body of the alien. 




Later that night, as Tommy entered his home, he looked up at the picture of the now deceased Glenn Davis framed on the wall. With a single tear of joy and pent up frustration, Tommy reviewed his anonymous email to various journalists from the New York Times, TIME magazine, and many more to quadruple-check if the attached images were there. With a final exhale, Tommy pressed the “ENTER” key. 

“Your welcome, Dad.”

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