On a chilly February night in 2023, off the coast of Southern California, the USS Jackson cut through the Pacific’s dark waves on what should have been a routine patrol. But for Senior Chief Petty Officer Alexandro Wiggins, a seasoned Navy operations specialist, the night was anything but ordinary. At approximately 7:15 p.m., Wiggins and his crew witnessed something that would change their lives—and potentially the world’s understanding of what lies beneath the ocean’s surface. Four glowing, tic-tac-shaped objects, one emerging directly from the sea, appeared in the sky, moved with impossible speed, and vanished without a trace. This wasn’t a hallucination or a fleeting glimpse. It was captured on multiple sensor systems—radar, infrared, and electro-optical—with timestamps and GPS data to prove it. Now, Wiggins, an active-duty officer, has taken his story to Congress, risking his career to expose what he believes is a decades-long cover-up by the Pentagon. Are these unidentified anomalous phenomena (UAPs) evidence of extraterrestrial life, or are they secret human technologies funded by untraceable black budgets? The truth, as Wiggins’ testimony suggests, could be more unsettling than either possibility.

Wiggins’ account, delivered under oath in September 2025, is a seismic moment in the ongoing saga of UAPs—formerly known as UFOs. Unlike retired officers recounting decades-old memories, Wiggins is an active-duty sailor, making his testimony unprecedented. “What I observed and what our crew recorded was not consistent with conventional aircraft or drones,” Wiggins told Congress. He described a self-luminous, tic-tac-shaped object rising from the ocean, joining three identical crafts, and then accelerating away in near-instantaneous synchronization, leaving no exhaust, no sonic boom, and no visible propulsion system. The event, recorded in the USS Jackson’s Interior Communications Center, was backed by multi-sensor data, including radar tracks and infrared imagery. Yet, when Wiggins and others attempted to report similar incidents, they faced a chilling reality: the military’s culture of silence. Sailors, he says, fear career-ending repercussions for speaking out about UAP encounters.

This fear isn’t new. For nearly eight decades, the U.S. government has dismissed UFO sightings as myths, weather balloons, or optical illusions. But Wiggins’ testimony aligns with a growing chorus of whistleblowers who claim the Pentagon has systematically suppressed evidence of UAPs. From the 1948 Mantell incident, where a pilot died chasing a UFO over Kentucky, to the 1952 Washington, D.C., sightings that sparked a national frenzy, credible witnesses have consistently been silenced or discredited. The 1967 Malmstrom Air Force Base incident, where a glowing red object allegedly disabled nuclear missiles, was brushed off as an “electronic malfunction.” The 2004 Nimitz “Tic Tac” encounter, captured on now-famous Navy videos, was met with Pentagon silence until leaks forced acknowledgment. Each time, the pattern is the same: deny, deflect, and discredit.

Wiggins’ testimony stands out not just for its detail but for its call to action. He’s urging Congress to create stigma-free reporting channels for service members and to preserve sensor data for rigorous analysis. “Sailors need to know that reporting UAP encounters will not harm their careers,” he said. His plea comes at a time when public trust in institutions is shaky, and the Pentagon’s secrecy is under increasing scrutiny. The Department of Defense has failed every audit since 1990, unable to account for trillions in spending. Black budgets—classified funds hidden from public oversight—funnel billions into programs like stealth bombers, hypersonic drones, and, perhaps, the very technologies Wiggins witnessed. Could these UAPs be advanced human-made crafts, tested in secret by defense contractors like Lockheed Martin’s Skunk Works? Or is the truth even stranger?

The possibility of extraterrestrial origins can’t be dismissed. David Grusch, a former intelligence officer, testified in 2023 that the U.S. possesses non-human craft and even “biologics” recovered from crash sites. Grusch, like Wiggins, faced retaliation for speaking out, hinting at a deeper cover-up. “I know of multiple colleagues who got physically injured,” Grusch told Congress, implicating both UAPs and government efforts to silence witnesses. These claims echo decades of insider accounts, from pilots to scientists, who describe technologies that defy known physics—crafts with no visible propulsion, capable of instantaneous acceleration and transmedium travel between air and sea. If these are alien, the implications are staggering: the government may have been in contact with non-human intelligence for decades, hiding it to maintain control over the narrative.

But there’s another angle, one that’s equally disturbing. What if these UAPs aren’t alien at all but the product of classified human technology? The U.S. has a history of using UFO stories as a smokescreen for secret projects. In the 1960s, the A-12 Oxcart, a Mach 3 reconnaissance jet, was tested at Area 51, its flights sparking UFO reports that the government never corrected. Ben Rich, former head of Lockheed’s Skunk Works, once hinted that their technologies were so advanced they could “take E.T. home.” If Wiggins’ tic-tac objects are human-made, they could be part of a new generation of hypersonic drones or transmedium vehicles—technologies so advanced they’d spark public outrage if revealed. Why? Because the money funding them comes from taxpayers, while schools crumble and healthcare remains out of reach for millions.

The financial stakes are astronomical. The Pentagon’s 2022 budget was $768 billion, dwarfing the combined defense spending of the next ten countries. Buried within are black budgets, unaccounted funds that even Congress can’t fully audit. In 2001, the Department of Defense admitted it couldn’t track $2.3 trillion in spending—a number that has only grown. Defense contractors like Lockheed Martin, Boeing, and Raytheon profit handsomely, developing technologies like anti-gravity propulsion or AI-driven surveillance systems that sound like science fiction. If Wiggins witnessed one of these projects, the Pentagon’s silence makes sense: revealing it would expose a web of unaccountable spending and corporate influence.

Then there’s the control factor. UFOs, whether alien or human, serve as the perfect distraction. When scandals erupt—economic crises, surveillance leaks, or political controversies—UFO stories conveniently dominate headlines. In 2023, as reports of toxic chemical spills and intelligence overreach surfaced, UFO sightings in Alaska, Canada, and Michigan grabbed attention. No debris, no clear answers—just enough mystery to keep the public chasing shadows. This tactic, honed since the 1947 Roswell incident, keeps people debating aliens while ignoring the real questions: Who’s funding these programs? Who’s profiting? And what are they doing with technology that can outmaneuver our best jets?

Wiggins’ testimony challenges this game. By stepping forward, he’s forcing a reckoning. If these UAPs are alien, the government’s secrecy betrays public trust. If they’re human, they expose a system where billions are spent on god-tier tech while ordinary Americans struggle. Either way, the truth is being withheld, and the cost is more than financial—it’s the erosion of trust in the institutions meant to serve us. Wiggins, a father of three and a dedicated sailor, isn’t chasing fame. He’s risking everything to demand transparency, not just for himself but for every service member silenced by fear.

The ocean, vast and mysterious, has always held secrets. But what Wiggins saw rise from its depths isn’t just a mystery—it’s a call to question the narratives we’ve been fed. Whether these tic-tac objects are from another world or a classified hangar, their existence points to a larger truth: the Pentagon’s grip on information is slipping, and whistleblowers like Wiggins are prying it open. As Congress debates his testimony, the public must decide what’s more unsettling: the idea that we’re not alone or the possibility that our own government is light-years ahead, hiding it all in plain sight.