J. Gerrard Scott, is a twenty two year veteran of the United States Marine Corps whose career spanned from the Vietnam War through the Gulf War in 1991. Once retired and living privately, the author began writing to local newspapers in an effort to help the local social structure. Mr. Scott possesses a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy from Cal State University, San Bernardino, and a Master of Arts from Cal State University. Long Beach. Since obtaining his education, the author has made efforts through writing to support, for example, the Medical Marijuana question that plagues California at both the levels of facilitating the needs of patients and the issues that affect law enforcement. He has written critiques to many places in an effort to provide some help with complex issues
According to the author, a common theme throughout his life is a constant contact with people who have seen, believe in, or have had encounters with either ufos or aliens, or other odd experiences. This contact seems to be widespread with no common denominators between experiencers that would necessarily link them together in any way. He has met with people who have done investigations in the past and been privy to both reports of evidence and presentations of evidence. While the author claims that there probably is no metaphysically strange reason for constantly bumping into people with strong beliefs about the ufo/alien puzzle, he does admit that it shows clearly, that something is indeed happening that we may never know much about.
Charlie stepped back into the room with some items for the grill. Watching out the window, he spoke first. “So how did it go?” he asked.
“I need to tell you?” Jake replied. “I feel like the entire world has been taken prisoner and made into a Zoo. What the hell are these things anyway?”
“I don’t know.” said Charlie. “I have heard so many stories, including ones from them, that I just don’t know. I personally have never bought that act about them being so scary and omnipotent, yet harmless at the same time. I don’t trust them. Never did.”
“I heard that one of your security people went a.w.o.l. from here and that you got the blame.” said Jake.
“That’s not all there is to it. I had to hunt that man down personally. I had “help” locating him. We caught up to him before he reached any family members. He’d been here three years. His family thought he was dead, had official papers and all that. He was listed as having died in a plane crash with no body found. It was clear when I had caught up to him that he was nutting up from the whole thing. It was my job to eliminate my own man if I couldn’t reason with him to come back here.” said Charlie. “He was begging to not be brought back here, said he couldn’t take it any more. Just as I was hating life for what I thought I had to do next, two of Rhan’s things showed up. They paralyzed him right there in the chair with a single thought. I thought that was really going to be bad and I couldn’t stand the thought of him being tortured. I was thinking about shooting them instead when one told me that a compromise solution is possible, and that they wouldn’t harm him.”
“What happened?” Jake asked.
“They wiped his memories. All the work he had done here, all the memories and mental pictures from here had been taken. They wiped his name from him. They left images of his brother and mother and father, but not their names, and pictures in his memory of their homes along with two addresses. You figure that one out.” replied Charlie. “We dressed him in some ragged clothes and shoes with holes in them. We pissed on him and rubbed shit on him and dumped him seventy five miles from home. Then we made an anonymous 911 call about an amnesiac wandering the streets. He made it home ok, and when the military investigated his missing time, they simply concluded an error had been made. They were going to make that family pay back the government life insurance. Can you believe that? Within the year, they found him hanging in the bathroom, so everything was dropped.”