In leaked emails from 2016 — obtained when Russian hackers breached the account of Hillary Clinton’s campaign chairman John Podesta — Blink-182 frontman Tom DeLonge described McCasland as a key advisor to his UFO disclosure project. DeLonge wrote that McCasland was “very, very aware” of classified material and that the general had helped assemble his advisory team. After his Air Force retirement, McCasland worked as an unpaid consultant on DeLonge’s media and fiction projects related to UAP disclosure. Whatever one thinks of DeLonge’s enterprise, the documented link between a sitting Air Force Research Laboratory commander and an organized effort to bring classified UAP information into public view is not nothing.
On February 27, 2026, McCasland walked out of his Albuquerque home during a one-hour window while his wife was at a medical appointment. He left behind his phone, his prescription glasses, and his wearable devices. He took his hiking boots, his wallet, and a .38-caliber revolver. Despite weeks of searches involving drones, dogs, helicopters, horseback teams, and the FBI, no trace of him has been found.
His wife has pushed back on theories connecting his disappearance to his classified history. She noted he had no active high-level clearances and no “special knowledge” about Roswell. She is almost certainly telling the truth about what she knows. The more pressing question is what she may not know — and what he knew that she was never told.
Then there is Monica Reza. In the early 2000s, working at Rocketdyne, she co-invented a nickel-based superalloy called Mondaloy — a material engineered specifically for advanced rocket engines, funded in part by the Air Force Research Laboratory. The same organization McCasland later led. Congressional investigators have flagged this overlap as unexplained. By June 2025, Reza was serving as Director of Materials Processing at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory. On the morning of June 22, she went hiking near Mount Waterman in the Angeles National Forest with a companion. They were roughly thirty feet apart on a well-traveled trail. The companion turned to check on her. She smiled and waved. He turned back. Moments later, he looked again. She was gone. No body has ever been found. No explanation has ever been offered.
The case of Amy Eskridge is the one that should stop every reader cold. Eskridge was 34 years old and held a double major in chemistry and biology from the University of Alabama in Huntsville, later earning a master’s in electrical engineering. She co-founded the Institute for Exotic Science with her father, retired NASA plasma physicist Richard Eskridge, with a stated and public mission: to bring anti-gravity propulsion research out of the classified world and into public discourse. In 2020, she announced she was prepared to present new foundational anti-gravity research — but required NASA authorization before doing so. She never received it.
In the years before her death, Eskridge gave public interviews stating explicitly that her life was in danger. She described years of escalating harassment — physical surveillance, alleged directed-energy attacks, and psychological intimidation. She told audiences she was “scared” and “tired” and felt compelled to disclose soon because “it’s like escalating.”
She enlisted a retired British intelligence officer, Franc Milburn, to document the harassment. Milburn concluded she had not committed suicide. On June 11, 2022, Amy Eskridge was found dead in Huntsville, Alabama. Authorities ruled her death a self-inflicted gunshot wound. No investigative report has ever been released to the public. No medical examiner’s findings have been made available. Independent investigators later presented Milburn’s findings to Congress, including testimony from journalist Michael Shellenberger that Eskridge was killed by a private aerospace company because of her involvement in the UAP disclosure conversation. After her death, the Institute for Exotic Science’s website went dark.
And then there is Moffatt — the twelfth name, the most recent, dying with his entire family on a clear April evening. The NTSB and FAA are investigating. No cause has been released. In isolation, a small plane crash is a tragedy. On a list that now includes a vanished general, a disappearing rocket scientist, and a dead anti-gravity researcher who predicted her own murder, it becomes something harder to dismiss.
