Psionics and the Hidden Network Controlling Non-Human Technology

In a revealing episode of Reality Check, Ross Coulthart interviews UFO whistleblower Jake Barber, who breaks a decade-long silence about his experiences at a UFO retrieval site. Barber, a former enlisted Air Force member and intelligence contractor for the U.S. government and private entities, claims to have been directly involved in the recovery of downed UAPs of non-human origin. His decision to come forward stems from a deep concern over what he describes as illegal and unethical secrecy within classified programs, which he refers to as “the program.” Despite the immense personal risk, Barber has already provided top-secret testimony in a SCIF (Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility) to Congress, fulfilling a commitment to fellow whistleblower David Grusch. He insists that the public deserves to know the truth about long-standing government knowledge of non-human intelligence, a reality he asserts contradicts official Pentagon statements. Coulthart acknowledges the immense implications of Barber’s claims, which challenge not only governmental transparency but also the broader understanding of NHI engagement with Earth. The interview, presented in its full unedited form for the first time, is a momentous step in exposing what Barber describes as a decades-long cover-up. His ultimate hope is that Congress and the incoming Donald Trump administration will take his allegations seriously and initiate formal investigations into the secretive UAP retrieval operations he has witnessed firsthand.

Jake Barber describes his journey from an enlisted Air Force member to an intelligence contractor, revealing the layers of secrecy surrounding his work. Recruited at just 17, he entered a specialized Air Force enlistment program with a decade-long commitment to Special Operations. After basic training in 1994, he moved into rigorous selection and training, known as “the pipeline,” which lasted two years. However, during this period, he was approached and encouraged to take on the cover of an aircraft mechanic, a role officially reflected in his discharge paperwork. While performing routine maintenance work at Pope Air Force Base, Barber simultaneously engaged in extensive training in various “clubs” that provided advanced skills in survival, parachuting, scuba diving, weaponry, piloting, and even foreign languages. These activities hinted at a deeper intelligence role beyond his mechanical duties.

Barber acknowledges the heavy constraints imposed by the Defense Office Prepublication Security Review (DOPSR), a classification system that restricts what he can legally disclose. He avoids specific agency names and military designations, as violating these secrecy agreements could result in life imprisonment.

As his training deepened, Barber transitioned into a more covert role, working as an Opposition Force (OpFor) member and later a Red Team expert. Opposition Forces, often described as “the bad guys” in military exercises, serve as simulated adversaries to test and challenge operational readiness. His involvement in these highly specialized roles suggests extensive preparation for unconventional operations, reinforcing his assertion that he had firsthand experience with classified programs. The interview sets the stage for further revelations about his exposure to non-human technology, government secrecy, and his decision to testify before Congress.

Jake Barber describes his evolution from a covert operative to a UAP whistleblower, detailing his role in opposition forces (OpFor) and his transition into classified intelligence work. As a member of OpFor, he specialized in stress-testing the capabilities of U.S. military forces, using his intuition and innovation to challenge conventional tactics. His background, though not formally as a Tier One operator, included a broad spectrum of advanced training and covert missions, including presidential support and security for high-value targets. Despite being recommended for a heroism medal during a classified Bosnia mission, the recognition was suppressed to avoid drawing attention to his covert role. His official cover remained that of an aircraft mechanic, a title that obscured his true assignments, including operations that placed him outside the conventional military rulebook.

His trajectory took a dramatic turn after 9/11, when he left the Air Force and transitioned into independent contracting, ultimately leading him to classified aerospace projects. Sent to California, he began working with defense contractors on emerging weapons technology, including early prototypes of pulse microwave weapons designed to disable enemy vehicles and aircraft. His interactions with aerospace personnel in the California desert set the stage for his exposure to UAP retrieval programs, a subject he insists is being concealed from Congress and the public.

Barber, a firm believer in the U.S. Constitution, emphasizes that his motivation for coming forward is rooted in his duty to uphold transparency and accountability. He argues that the American people are being misled about non-human intelligence, contradicting official Pentagon statements that deny extraterrestrial involvement. He asserts with certainty that alien craft exist and that he has personally participated in their recovery. For Barber, the reality of non-human intelligence is not a revelation but a fact he has long come to terms with—a truth he believes the government is actively suppressing. Despite the risks, he insists that disclosure is inevitable and that Congress must take responsibility for uncovering the full extent of what is known.

To reinforce his backstory, he enrolled in commercial pilot training, despite already possessing covert flight experience. Since his military training did not officially grant him a pilot’s license, he had to go through the motions of learning how to fly while masking his prior knowledge—a process he found amusing yet challenging. He also established multiple legitimate businesses to provide useful services to the government, reinforcing the depth of his cover. According to Barber, the most effective cover isn’t a shallow façade but a fully functioning, real enterprise that can serve as a gateway for classified work when necessary.

He reveals that he and a team of private individuals, backed by venture capital, are preparing to conduct independent retrievals of alien technology, circumventing government secrecy.

Barber’s journey took a pivotal turn when his work as a helicopter operator placed him in proximity to sensitive test sites, referred to as “the range.” His role primarily revolved around security and transportation for various government agencies and private aerospace partners. Initially, he observed a variety of advanced human-made technologies, including classified weapons systems and aerial craft that performed astonishing maneuvers. He explains that much of what appears anomalous at first can be attributed to undisclosed military technology, drawing parallels to modern drone light shows as an example of how complex human-engineered systems can appear otherworldly.

However, over time, he encountered objects that defied conventional explanation. At first, he rationalized these sightings as highly classified experimental technology, assuming that the U.S. military possessed capabilities unknown to the public. But as he continued to observe phenomena that aligned with what former Pentagon official Lue Elizondo called the “five observables”—instantaneous acceleration, hypersonic speeds, transmedium travel, anti-gravity capabilities, and stealth—he came to the conclusion that some of what he was witnessing was not of human origin. These encounters, combined with his direct involvement in retrieval operations, solidified his belief that non-human intelligence is actively engaging with Earth, a reality he is now committed to exposing.

Jake Barber recounts the pivotal moment when he realized he was involved in the recovery of a non-human craft, marking a turning point in his career. While much of his work in crash retrievals involved classified human-made technology, there was always a small percentage of cases that stood out as truly extraordinary. He describes witnessing objects displaying transmedium characteristics, emerging directly from ridges or mountains—phenomena that defied conventional understanding. Though he initially could not determine whether these anomalies were advanced human technology or something else, it became undeniable after a particular retrieval mission.

His team, trained for conventional recovery operations, was suddenly faced with an object that was unmistakably non-human. Communication protocols changed instantly, procedures were modified, and the reaction among his experienced team members confirmed that this was not an ordinary mission. Barber, piloting a helicopter with a long line, got within 150 feet of the object and saw what he describes as a “white egg” roughly the size of a large SUV. It was seamless, metallic, and pearlescent—features that immediately set it apart from anything he had encountered before. The sheer impossibility of its design, combined with its retrieval process, solidified the realization that they were dealing with something beyond human engineering.

His account is further validated by members of the UAP Task Force, who confirmed that what his team recovered was indeed known within high-clearance circles as a non-human craft. This revelation, however, raises profound implications, particularly regarding government transparency. While Barber refrains from directly accusing officials of lying, he acknowledges that many high-ranking individuals, including Pentagon spokespersons, may not even be aware of the full extent of classified UAP programs. His role, operating under NATO Top Secret clearances on high-value target (HVT) missions, allowed him access to sensitive operations, yet even within such assignments, strict compartmentalization ensured that only a select few had a comprehensive understanding of the reality behind these recoveries.

The secrecy surrounding his missions was deliberate, providing plausible deniability to those in charge. He explains how the U.S. government creates bureaucratic rules to maintain classified programs while simultaneously designing loopholes to circumvent those same restrictions when necessary. His clearance level, often issued on an as-needed basis, ensured that his covert role remained hidden, further obscuring the operations he was involved in. The retrieval of the oval UFO (flying egg) was a stark example of this, as the moment it appeared, the entire situation was instantly classified at the highest level, regardless of the prior clearance levels of those involved.

Before deploying for that particular mission, Barber and his team were told they would be performing routine range security. However, what they encountered that day was anything but ordinary.

Jake Barber continues his account by describing the profound emotional and psychic impact he experienced while recovering an octagonal craft, distinct from the previously discussed egg-shaped object. Initially, his work on retrieval missions followed strict protocol—his team would be assigned to collect classified objects, often assumed to be experimental military technology. However, as he approached the octagonal craft, something unprecedented occurred. He began feeling an overwhelming wave of emotions, a mixture of sadness, happiness, and an indescribable sense of beauty. These feelings intensified as he neared the object, to the point where he struggled to focus on piloting his helicopter. It was a deeply feminine presence, reminiscent of his mother and daughter, which seemed to reach into his consciousness, connecting with him in a way he had never experienced before.

This overwhelming sensation, which he describes as telepathic or psionic, convinced him that the craft had an ability to influence human emotions remotely. Though his crew members reported no similar effects, he was certain that whatever force was acting upon him was both sentient and intentional. The experience changed him, leaving an imprint that he believes continues to guide and protect him. He later came to understand that there is an established, classified research component in U.S. government programs dedicated to studying the psychic and emotional effects of UAP encounters. His experience, he believes, aligns with this research—suggesting that some recovered craft are not merely advanced machines but may possess an inherent consciousness or field of influence.

The topic of angels and demons emerged in a spiritual context, particularly in relation to the psionics involved in classified programs. Those with heightened telepathic abilities reportedly described the non-human intelligence (NHI) as a “they” in deeply spiritual terms, sometimes likening them to angels and demons. While the conversation suggested the existence of both benevolent and potentially malevolent energies, the interviewee clarified that, in his experience, he had not encountered any overtly hostile intelligence. Rather than adhering to a strictly religious framework, the discussion framed these entities through a blend of spiritual and metaphysical interpretations, hinting at a more complex and nuanced understanding of their nature.

Barber reflects on his past, questioning whether his involvement in the military and intelligence community was predetermined due to certain abilities he unknowingly possessed. He recounts how, as a child, he was enrolled in the Gifted and Talented Education (GATE) program, which he now suspects was used as a covert screening mechanism for individuals with latent psychic or intuitive capabilities. His grandfather, a highly influential figure in the education system, played a role in his selection for specialized testing, which included physical, psychological, and creative assessments. At the time, he believed these tests were standard; now, he questions whether they were part of a larger effort to identify individuals who could later be utilized in classified programs.

His expulsion from high school due to frequent fights led to an intervention by his grandparents, who guided him toward military enlistment. He recalls undergoing extensive aptitude testing at an office near UCLA, involving both mental and physiological evaluations. Looking back, he sees a clear connection between these experiences and his later role in retrieval operations. He now suspects that his intuitive abilities, whether innate or developed through training, played a crucial role in why he was selected for these high-risk missions. Furthermore, after speaking with others who were involved in similar programs, he discovered that many had parallel backgrounds in classified psychic research.

Barber’s revelations suggest a deeper, hidden agenda behind UAP retrievals—one that extends beyond technological secrecy into the realm of consciousness and human perception. His encounter with the octagonal craft was not just a physical recovery operation; it was a moment of personal transformation, forcing him to reconsider the true nature of the phenomenon he had spent years unknowingly interacting with. This realization, combined with his ongoing efforts in independent UAP research, fuels his commitment to exposing the truth about the government’s long-standing engagement with non-human technology.

Jake Barber elaborates on his growing realization that the recovery operations he was involved in extended far beyond just retrieving classified technology. As he began to understand the extent of the program, he encountered an entirely new dimension—one involving consciousness, telepathy, and what he refers to as psionics. He explains that his success as a red team expert was largely due to his intuition, creativity, and ability to make rapid, high-stakes decisions under pressure. He notes that many elite operators share similar traits, often displaying a blend of artistic sensitivity and warrior-like discipline. He speculates that recruitment into specialized military and intelligence roles may not be random but rather a highly structured process designed to identify individuals with unique cognitive and intuitive abilities.

His encounter with the octagonal craft profoundly shifted his perspective, leading him to uncover the existence of an organized psionic program within the UAP retrieval effort. This program focused on using individuals with heightened telepathic abilities to summon, communicate with, and even influence non-human craft. He reveals that some of these crafts were not forcibly brought down but instead responded to mental invitations from psionically gifted individuals. While he initially struggled to process his own experience, he later learned that such interactions were not uncommon. His team often worked alongside psionic specialists who were tasked with mentally engaging with these unidentified objects, a process that, in some cases, led to controlled landings.

Barber explains that the government does not exclusively rely on psychic techniques; high-powered microwave (HPM) weapons are also used to interfere with UAPs and, in some cases, force them down. However, he emphasizes that the intelligence behind these craft appears to be benevolent—exhibiting behavior that suggests a willingness to engage rather than hostility. He describes how individuals attempting to connect with these entities must be in a state of calm, love, and positive intent, as negativity or discord within a group can disrupt the process. This observation aligns with his own experience during the octagonal craft retrieval, where he felt an overwhelming presence of love and guidance.

His discussion takes a darker turn when he describes an incident involving the theft of Panasonic Toughbook laptops containing highly sensitive UAP-related data. Following 2018, his team was assigned to recover missing computers that were believed to contain incriminating video footage and sensor data from unauthorized recordings of retrieval operations. This task initially seemed routine, but as they recovered the first two laptops—buried in the High Sierra mountains—they discovered that the hard drives had been removed. Intelligence reports led them to a high-altitude lake, where they retrieved additional hard drives submerged 25 feet underwater in a sealed steel container.

As the mission progressed, Barber’s instincts warned him that something was off. The rhythm of their intelligence feeds changed, their usual contacts were replaced, and they were suddenly assigned an unfamiliar aircraft for their next operation instead of using their own. This shift in protocol raised alarms, making him suspect that competing factions within the intelligence community were working against each other. For the first time in his career, he and his team began questioning who they were actually working for and what the true purpose of the mission was. The tension escalated as they prepared for their next deployment, leaving them uncertain about whether they were being set up, manipulated, or potentially walking into a trap.

As Jake Barber recounts the final stages of his involvement in the high-value target (HVT) recovery operations, his suspicions about being set up intensify. The intelligence reports kept shifting unpredictably, and when his team finally deployed to the designated location, the targets were gone, and it was evident that shots had been fired. This discovery led him to question not only the motives behind the mission but also whether he and his team were being positioned as expendable assets—convenient scapegoats in a dangerous and highly classified game. Sensing imminent danger, Barber and his team withdrew immediately, returning to their base and cutting all ties with their handlers. He began to suspect that they were being used as pawns in a larger scheme—possibly even as unwitting facilitators of the leaks they were tasked with preventing.

His concerns only deepened when he started piecing together evidence suggesting that the true nature of their mission had been obscured. He realized that the organization he believed was employing them might not have been the one truly orchestrating events. This led him to arrange a direct meeting with the director of security at the private aerospace firm they had been working for, hoping to clarify whether their orders had come from legitimate leadership or from rogue operatives acting under false pretenses. The response he received was unsettling. The security director seemed unnerved, claimed no knowledge of the operation, and advised Barber to leave it alone. This response confirmed his worst fears—that there was an entirely separate, clandestine faction operating outside official channels, yet using the company’s resources and branding as cover.

Feeling betrayed and realizing that the highest levels of oversight were either unaware or unwilling to intervene, Barber sought help from what he believed to be his last remaining safeguard—the Senate Intelligence Committee. However, instead of finding support, he discovered that congressional investigators themselves were afraid. Some had been threatened, and they lacked the enforcement power to act against the secretive programs they were meant to oversee. This revelation was perhaps the most alarming moment in Barber’s career. It confirmed that not only were the deepest levels of the U.S. government operating without true accountability, but even elected officials tasked with oversight were powerless against the forces at play.

Barber then turned his attention to Dr. Steven Greer, whom he initially approached out of concern that Greer’s upcoming whistleblower event could be used as a platform to expose classified information contained on the missing Toughbook laptops. While offering his services to vet whistleblowers, Barber encountered former Marine Michael Herrera, whose testimony stunned him. Herrera described a 2009 incident in Sumatra where he and his team stumbled upon an enormous, hovering craft—one that seemed entirely alien in origin. Below it, a heavily armed paramilitary unit operated with impunity, seizing weapons from the Marines and threatening them into silence. Herrera’s account resonated with Barber on a deep level, particularly because of certain operational details that he recognized. He realized Herrera was likely describing a real event connected to the same shadowy infrastructure Barber himself had been entangled in.

Barber was especially struck by the paramilitary group’s behavior and the fact that they seemed to be operating outside normal military jurisdiction. He was aware of the existence of such groups but had never personally been involved in that kind of coercive operation. Still, he acknowledged that such factions existed, functioning in a space where legality and morality were secondary to secrecy and control. The realization that legitimate military personnel like Herrera could be subjected to such threats by what were ostensibly American forces further solidified Barber’s belief that a rogue element—one with immense power and resources—was at work within the U.S. government and defense industry.

Through his interactions with Herrera and Greer, Barber saw more evidence that the phenomenon of UAP retrievals was not limited to the U.S. government but extended into private, unacknowledged networks that wielded their own advanced technology. His own experiences, combined with Herrera’s testimony, painted a picture of a world where advanced non-human technology was actively being recovered, studied, and hidden—not just from the public but even from many within the military and intelligence communities. The deeper Barber investigated, the clearer it became that the control over this technology—and perhaps the nature of the intelligence behind it—was not in the hands of any single nation, government, or military branch. Instead, it resided within an opaque, factionalized network that operated in secrecy, answering to no clear authority.

Jake Barber’s revelations about the U.S. government’s secret programs and non-human intelligence (NHI) continue to push the boundaries of what is publicly known. As the interview unfolds, he looked deeper into the clandestine operations involving psionics, advanced propulsion systems, and the suppression of groundbreaking technologies. He confirms that the octagonal craft described by Michael Herrera matches a smaller version he encountered during his own classified operations. Barber explains that the containers Herrera saw were not used for drug running, as initially assumed, but instead functioned as mobile operating bases for psionic teams, complete with environmental controls to facilitate their work. This revelation reinforces his assertion that psionics—individuals with extraordinary mental abilities—play a crucial role in interacting with UAPs.

Barber insists that, despite the secrecy, the core of these operations is ethical, with the best and brightest minds working on these projects. However, he acknowledges that rogue elements within the military-industrial complex sometimes operate outside these moral boundaries, tarnishing the entire field. His discussion of psionics extends beyond recruitment in the U.S., confirming that the program actively recruits individuals from third-world nations, particularly indigenous communities with strong spiritual traditions. He refutes claims that this recruitment equates to human trafficking, emphasizing that those involved participate willingly and are well cared for, often taking pride in their abilities and roles.

As the conversation shifts toward technological advancements, Barber admits he has seen what appears to be hybrid human-extraterrestrial technology but cannot definitively classify certain craft as fully human-made or entirely non-human. He speculates that private aerospace firms have likely succeeded in reverse-engineering a craft but may have strategically misled the government to maintain control over their discoveries. He further confirms the existence of underground bases, though he remains tight-lipped about specific details. His experiences also align with long-standing cases like the Phoenix Lights, which he believes were legitimate encounters with non-human intelligence.

Barber’s revelations extend beyond technology to the human mind’s potential. He asserts that psionic abilities—long dismissed as pseudoscience—are real and actively utilized in classified programs. He notes that children, particularly left-handed individuals and certain demographics, exhibit a higher predisposition for these abilities. He describes the Esalen gathering, where high-profile scientists, billionaires, and mystics witnessed psionic demonstrations and even summoned UAPs. He portrays this moment as historically significant, a sign that disclosure is accelerating.

His decision to approach Congress marked a turning point. When he testified before the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, he found an audience eager to listen, extending the session well beyond its scheduled duration. However, he expresses disappointment in Congress’s inability to enforce real oversight, stating that government agencies are fragmented, with many departments unaware of what others are doing. He insists that secrecy is no longer sustainable and that disclosure is inevitable.

Perhaps most shocking is his admission that the U.S. government inadvertently validated his claims through the DOPSR (Defense Office of Prepublication and Security Review) process. By submitting a fictionalized manuscript containing classified details, he and his team forced the government to redact sections, inadvertently confirming their authenticity. This strategy allowed them to gauge the level of secrecy surrounding specific topics, further proving that an extensive classified program exists.

Looking ahead, Barber envisions a future where the suppression of advanced technologies and human potential ends. He foresees a world where psionics is openly studied, where UAP research is integrated into mainstream science, and where humanity harnesses free energy technologies. His optimism is unshaken, even in the face of potential threats from entrenched interests seeking to maintain secrecy. He dismisses the idea of fearing for his safety, claiming he is both protected by NHI and fully capable of defending himself. His final message is one of empowerment—he encourages people to seek their own direct experiences with the phenomenon rather than waiting for governments to disclose the truth. For him, the future is already unfolding, and it is filled with possibilities beyond anything the world has seen before.