High Strangeness: Little Green Men -- Part IV

Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Little Green Men -- Part IV


The police respond; the aliens launch a counterattack!



After a two-hour inspection of the house and the surrounding area, the only clues the police could find were what appeared to be bullet and shot holes in some of the screens, a few spent shell casings in the house and yard, some shot embedded in a door frame, and a luminous patch in the grass beyond the fence...

The luminous patch was about 18” across, and located near where one of the little men was supposed to have been shot. “(T)he patch was only visible from one angle,” Davis reported. “Greenwell and others examined the spot carefully, but at close range nothing at all was visible and the grass did not seem different in any way.”[1] No one seems to have thought to secure samples of the soil or foliage.
While there was no sign that the Suttons had imagined it all or tried to perpetrate a hoax, there was also no clear evidence that any creatures had attacked the house. Nevertheless, the lawmen felt a certain malevolence permeating the Sutton property. “In and around the whole area, the house, the fields, that night, there was a weird feeling,” Greenwell recounted. “It was partly uneasiness, but not entirely. Everyone had it. There were men there that I’d call brave men, men I’ve been in dangerous situations with. They felt it, too. They’ve told me so.”[2]

With so little to go on, a puzzled Chief Greenwell sent everyone home to bed and the Suttons reluctantly returned to the farmhouse.

Sleep did not come easily. “Mrs. Lankford, was resting in her bed... situated near a window. Again… all the lights were off… and she became conscious of something glowing at the window,” Ledwith reported. “She looked and saw the being watching her. It’s [sic] hands were again raised in that familiar position of about to be robbed, but it made no motion.”[3]
Scarcely able to believe that the creatures were back, Miss Glennie quietly woke the others. Lucky leapt to the window with his gun, but his mother stopped him.

“My grandmother was like, leave them alone, because maybe they don’t want to hurt us,” Stith said. “She believed there was good in everything. She wouldn’t want anything to be hurt or killed, even though they may have been something from another world!

“But my dad was not going to do that, because he was afraid that was exactly what they were there to do,” she went on. “They kept coming up to the doors and windows, and if they’re coming up to the doors and windows, what are they wanting? Do they want to get in? And what are they going to do when they get in? He wasn’t going to give them that chance.”

In the end, Lucky won the argument. He fired at the face at the window, and once again the creature disappeared.

            “The night wore on… and before daybreak the men dissapsared [sic] completely,” Ledwith related. “They left before the sun came up. The Sutton household, needless to say, didn’t sleep at all that night… and during the early morning hours the farm was crawling with the curious and sightseers.”[4]

            Although Chief Greenwell never cast any doubt on the Suttons’ accounts of what happened the night of the 21st, he did them a grave disservice by failing to secure the farm as a crime scene. There was never a comprehensive search for evidence, and because anyone and everyone could trespass on the property—and even get inside the house, which, it must be remembered, had no locks on the doors—no one could ever be sure whether there might have been evidence present that night that could have been stolen or destroyed by a curious reporter or tourist. To make matters worse, a downpour the next day turned the ground to mud; had there been any footprints left unmolested by the trampling feet of the police and sightseers, they would surely have been washed away by the rain.
“If things had been done right, there’s no telling what evidence they could have gotten,” Stith lamented.

Lucky thing, then, that when Bud Ledwith happened to come into the local radio station the next morning—Monday was his day off, but he needed to speak with the chief engineer—and heard talk of the invasion at the Sutton farm, he grabbed some drawing materials and drove straight out to the scene of the events. Ledwith, in addition to being an on-air personality and engineer at the station, was also an artist, and when he arrived at the farm he was able to persuade three of the women—Miss Glennie, Vera Sutton and Alene Sutton—to help him draw a composite sketch of the creature. If the police weren’t going to do a proper investigation or preserve evidence, Ledwith would. Turned out the women were more than happy to tell their tale to someone who didn’t make them feel embarrassed or insane, and after an hour and a half of intense discussion Ledwith produced a drawing of a misshapen goblin that met with their unanimous approval. So accurate was the drawing that Miss Glennie went outside so she wouldn’t have to look at it.

            The men had gone off in different directions for the day, and when Billy Ray returned to the farm, he took one look at Ledwith’s picture and said, “That’s it, that’s it, that looks just like it.”[1]

When Lucky arrived home later he “came in like a bear”[2]: the drive was blocked by cars and strangers were milling around in the yard. Ledwith was prepared to leave immediately, not wanting to add to Sutton’s stress, but when Lucky saw the drawing he grew silent, then he sat down and began to suggest corrections… “One could tell by the look on his face that we had struck home with that picture,” Ledwith reported.[3]

I’m sure it meant a lot to Dad that (Ledwith) listened to him and seemed to believe him,” Stith said. “Russell Greenwell believed it too; he never doubted. Anybody that would seriously come in there to talk about the situation and not make fun was high on my dad’s list. There was a lot more who didn’t believe him than did.”

To Be Continued...


[1] Ibid.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.




[1] Ibid.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ledwith, op.cit.
[4] Ibid.

No comments: