The UFO Encounter that ALTERED My Reality| The Origin Story| Total Disclosure
🛒 Good Feels Cannabis Seltzer Get 20% OFF with code: DISCLOSURE https://shop.getgoodfeels.com/discount/DISCLOSURE
🛒 Strong Coffee Company - Protein Coffee 💰 Get 20% OFF | Promo Code: DISCLOSURE https://strongcoffeecompany.com/discount/DISCLOSURE
🔗 All Links & Platforms: https://allmylinks.com/total-disclosure
📺 Subscribe on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@totaldisclosure
🔻 SUPPORT THE SHOW
💰 Direct Support (No Fees – PayPal): https://www.paypal.me/TDPstudios767?locale.x=en_US
⭐ YouTube Membership: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCy2Cra7aLAAMVxkA9rSYCxg/join
🔥 Patreon (Exclusive Content): https://www.patreon.com/Total_Disclosure
🔻 FOLLOW & CONNECT
X (Twitter): https://x.com/DisclosurePod
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/DisclosurePod
Facebook: https://facebook.com/@ty.totaldisclosure
Business Inquiries / Media Use: 📧 [email protected]
🔻 LISTEN TO THE PODCAST
🎧 Spreaker (Direct Support): https://www.spreaker.com/show/total-disclosure-ufos-cover-ups-and-cons
🍎 Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-pop-culture-corner/id1544297063
🟢 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/0Yq6Iceyh7o24DG8tq4kvO
📦 Amazon / Audible: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08JJSX9GF
🔻 ABOUT THE CHANNEL:
Total Disclosure Podcast explores UFOs, government cover-ups, conspiracies, paranormal encounters, and hidden truths through interviews, investigations, and deep-dive storytelling.
Hosted by Ty Roberts of TDP Studios, bringing firsthand accounts, expert insights, and uncensored discussions to uncover what lies beyond the official narrative.
Special thanks to all supporters, members, and listeners—this show exists because of you.
<br...
Speaker 1: Today, I decided I wanted to do something well, a
Speaker 1: bit different. I realized recently in an interview with Connecticut
Speaker 1: State Representative Joe Hawk so that I had actually never
Speaker 1: told my story quote unquote from start to finish all
Speaker 1: the way through it. And it got me thinking, Easter
Speaker 1: just passed. That was when my mom had passed away,
Speaker 1: and it got me just reminiscing on my own experiences,
Speaker 1: internalizing those and trying to distrapolate as much as I
Speaker 1: could from it to inform my next couple moves. There's
Speaker 1: a lot of changes happening, whether it's you know, the
Speaker 1: studio or trying to go bigger and boulder with certain
Speaker 1: guests and getting them in here. A lot's been on
Speaker 1: my plate. The team's growing, and I thought, you know what,
Speaker 1: let's take it back to basics. Why do I do
Speaker 1: what I do? I hope you enjoy this, and I
Speaker 1: hope it gives you some person perspective on the conversations
Speaker 1: I have, why I do interview people the way I do,
Speaker 1: why I have the energy I have, and what it
Speaker 1: all really means. Why do I search for answers? And
Speaker 1: we definitely are standing on the shoulders of giants but
Speaker 1: the world has never been so connected yet felt so isolated,
Speaker 1: alone and cold. So let's take a moment, and I'm
Speaker 1: going to let you in. I'm going to let you
Speaker 1: into my head, to my experiences, and I'm going to
Speaker 1: show you a little bit of warmth step. The day
Speaker 1: started like any other. I woke up in the basement,
Speaker 1: rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and started getting ready
Speaker 1: for school like I had a thousand mornings before. But
Speaker 1: when I climbed those stairs that day, my mother was
Speaker 1: waiting at the top with that look in her eyes,
Speaker 1: the one that meant today was different. Every once in
Speaker 1: a while she'd pull one of us kids aside and
Speaker 1: offered the golden ticket stay home with me. No questions asked,
Speaker 1: and we never pushed for reasons we didn't want to
Speaker 1: jinx it. That day, that ticket was mine. She was
Speaker 1: a creature of habit, my mom, a stay at home warrior,
Speaker 1: queen of routines. Don't get donuts, coffee, hot rice depending
Speaker 1: on the season. Of course. Now I can't pin the
Speaker 1: exact date or time of year, but I remember that
Speaker 1: it was nice outside. I'd already watched Live with Ritis
Speaker 1: and Kelly at nine am, and with no phone, no Internet,
Speaker 1: and everyone else stuck at school. Boredom hit fast. Mom
Speaker 1: got bored too, so I grabbed the tennis ball and
Speaker 1: headed out back for the only game that ever worked alone.
Speaker 1: Off the wall, you threw the ball against either a
Speaker 1: wall or a steep roof, in my case, watched it
Speaker 1: pop off the gutter and caught it on the bounce. Simple,
Speaker 1: mindless mine. I wound up, eyes locked on the clear
Speaker 1: blue sky above, reared back with my left hand, and
Speaker 1: launched that ball skyward. The ball hung for a second,
Speaker 1: then something else caught the corner of my eye, a glint,
Speaker 1: a silver gun, metal gray. It snapped into focus at
Speaker 1: treetop level, oscillating, drifting straight over my head. Three circular
Speaker 1: protrusions jutted out, forming a perfect triangle. If you had
Speaker 1: connected them with a straight line each. The whole thing
Speaker 1: was a disk. It was flat, silent, and even at
Speaker 1: my young age, I knew impossible. No engine, roar, no wind, nothing.
Speaker 1: I grew up next to Hanscomb Air Force Base, and
Speaker 1: for the most part, I knew planes, I knew jets.
Speaker 1: I also lived through nine to eleven in the shadow
Speaker 1: of Boston, close enough to New York to feel that
Speaker 1: fear wholeheartedly. I knew what belonged in the sky and
Speaker 1: what didn't. This didn't. It glided over me like it
Speaker 1: had all the time in the world. My jaw dropped,
Speaker 1: the tennis ball, rolled off the roof, and thumped onto
Speaker 1: the grass. I didn't care. Time stretched thick and slow.
Speaker 1: I could have read symbols on it's hull if there
Speaker 1: were any. That's how close this thing was. And it
Speaker 1: passed directly over the house, over the exact spot where
Speaker 1: I'd been standing seconds earlier. I snapped out of it
Speaker 1: and sprinted around to the backyard, desperate for one more second.
Speaker 1: By the time I rounded the corner, it was gone,
Speaker 1: vanished into the canopy of trees, or simply blinked out.
Speaker 1: I stood there, chest heaving, scanning that empty sky for minutes,
Speaker 1: but those minutes felt like hours. It never came back,
Speaker 1: but it also never left me. I bolted inside, out
Speaker 1: of breath, words tumbling over each other. Mom calmed me,
Speaker 1: looked me dead in the eyes, and said the words
Speaker 1: that rewired my entire life. Tyler, what you saw was special.
Speaker 1: Not many get to see what you just did. She
Speaker 1: didn't dismiss it, but she also didn't force it into
Speaker 1: a box. She told me her truth. She said, you
Speaker 1: saw a UFO identified buying object, and humanity didn't have
Speaker 1: all the answers, and we barely had any when it
Speaker 1: came to the universe. I was ten or eleven, but
Speaker 1: young enough to believe her with our argument. I just asked,
Speaker 1: will you teach me? She smiled and said, let's do
Speaker 1: one better. We're gonna go to the library. You're getting books.
Speaker 1: That was the pivot, the day curiosity cracked me open,
Speaker 1: the day the world stopped being black and white and
Speaker 1: started living in the gray. And I've never left girls,
Speaker 1: friends life. Yeah, they did take the front seat as
Speaker 1: I grew up, but in the back of my mind,
Speaker 1: that silver dish never stopped hovering. I got back into
Speaker 1: it hard as an adult, at least by the state's definition, eighteen,
Speaker 1: devouring documentaries, books, every scrap of information I could find.
Speaker 1: But the stigma was still thick. You didn't talk about
Speaker 1: it out loud in real life. You whispered it at
Speaker 1: parties while passing the joint, staring up at the stars,
Speaker 1: hoping for one more glimpse. Mine didn't come for years,
Speaker 1: not until the worst day of my life twenty twenty.
Speaker 1: I was one year sober, one year clean after alcohol
Speaker 1: had owned me, and then pills and whatever else helped
Speaker 1: numb the anxiety and depression. I'd been drinking to function,
Speaker 1: not to feel good, and the shakes were real. The
Speaker 1: people around me were poison. Then the phone rang. My
Speaker 1: brother never called texts only I knew something was wrong
Speaker 1: before I had even answered the phone. And then I
Speaker 1: heard the words that I hope you'll never have to hear.
Speaker 1: He said, Mom was just diagnosed with late stage breast cancer.
Speaker 1: The world stopped. Every second stretched like the afternoon on
Speaker 1: the roof. I hung up and stared at the wall
Speaker 1: for ten minutes, maybe floridy, I'm not sure. A friend
Speaker 1: snapped me out of it because we had to record
Speaker 1: an episode, actually, our first episode of the Pop Culture Corner.
Speaker 1: What was weird was I said nothing. I shoved it
Speaker 1: down deep, the way I'd always done. You can still
Speaker 1: watch that episode. Actually, my eyes tell the whole story,
Speaker 1: even if my mouth never did. Thirteen months earlier, thirteen
Speaker 1: months later, April third, twenty twenty one, the day before Easter,
Speaker 1: I was in the middle of an interview with Owen Gleiberman,
Speaker 1: chief film critic of Variety. I'd spoken to Mom days earlier,
Speaker 1: promised i'd be by her side twenty four seven and
Speaker 1: just two hours for this one interview I needed now
Speaker 1: taking a mine and into consideration that they told us
Speaker 1: weeks not days. I was wrong, and if I could
Speaker 1: go back, I would have never left her side. But
Speaker 1: my phone started buzzing during the show. My sister first
Speaker 1: call Politico. She'd been calling a lot for miss calls
Speaker 1: in a row. Later, that's what I knew. I ended
Speaker 1: the interview mid sentence, told my co host keep rowing
Speaker 1: and ran. Those episodes still exist. I can't bring myself
Speaker 1: to delete them. For some reason. I see my own
Speaker 1: face in them, and I want to scream. When I
Speaker 1: spoke to my sister finally, I had told her that
Speaker 1: I was already waiting on the uber. When the uber
Speaker 1: got there, I begged the driver like my life depended
Speaker 1: on it. Logan, my service dog, my best friend was
Speaker 1: in the back with me. I was praying out loud
Speaker 1: the whole ride, you know, please wait, Mom, please, but
Speaker 1: if you have to go, I understand, but please please,
Speaker 1: if you can wait for me. A twenty eight minute
Speaker 1: ride and that driver turned it into seventeen wherever he
Speaker 1: is out there, Thank you so much. You're a legend,
Speaker 1: and I still owe you. I burst through the door
Speaker 1: at my parents' house. Hospice nurses said it could be
Speaker 1: ours or minutes. They'd lower her pain meds so we
Speaker 1: could each have one last moment while she was still
Speaker 1: loose it. One by one, my siblings went in. Then
Speaker 1: it was my turn. The room felt like a hospital
Speaker 1: hospital bed in the middle of the room. Logan, my pop,
Speaker 1: the dog, who had jumped into that bed with her
Speaker 1: for weeks at her own request, did something different that day.
Speaker 1: He laid down parallel to the bed, as close as
Speaker 1: he could get without being in the way, like he knew,
Speaker 1: he always knew. I sat down. I took her hand,
Speaker 1: and she was warmer than I expected. Her eyes opened
Speaker 1: and she spoke softfully words just for us, and she
Speaker 1: asked for a Logan. I lifted him into the chair
Speaker 1: beside me. He sat there, staring at her with those
Speaker 1: eyes on carried to my grave. The nurse came back.
Speaker 1: The time was up. There had to raise the meds again.
Speaker 1: She started slipping back. I stayed right there, holding her hand,
Speaker 1: and then it happened. I was looking at her face
Speaker 1: when my pocket started to buzz, and I glanced down
Speaker 1: for what could have only been in micro second, maybe less.
Speaker 1: When I looked back up, a ball of pure light
Speaker 1: streaked across my vision and hooked a sharp left and
Speaker 1: vanished straight out the window. And when I looked back
Speaker 1: at my mother, she was gone. Now I don't know
Speaker 1: if it was real. I don't know if it was grief,
Speaker 1: a fever dream, or the most beautiful goodbye ever given.
Speaker 1: But in that exact moment, total disclosure was born. She
Speaker 1: was the common thread in both of my experiences or sightings,
Speaker 1: whatever you want to call them, the one that opened
Speaker 1: my eyes as a boy, and the one that closed
Speaker 1: hers as she left this world. And I couldn't help
Speaker 1: but feel like it was her final nudge, this is
Speaker 1: your path, walk it. I was sober, but I had
Speaker 1: no purpose. Now I did every interview, every conversation, every
Speaker 1: stage I've stood on, every time I've walked her memory
Speaker 1: into the halls of Congress. It's not just for me,
Speaker 1: It's for her. All of it. The show, the mission,
Speaker 1: the fight for answers, the refusal to live in the
Speaker 1: black and white when the truth is gray and beautiful
Speaker 1: and terrifying. I haven't stopped, sir, I never will, not
Speaker 1: until I see her again, somewhere out there. I hope
Speaker 1: she knows and I do that. Everything I've built i've
Speaker 1: built for you. Mom. Thank you for the disc in
Speaker 1: the sky, thank you for the books, thank you for
Speaker 1: believing in me, and most importantly, thank you for the
Speaker 1: light that showed me the way home. The reason I
Speaker 1: wanted to tell this story is because I thought it
Speaker 1: was important for once for all to tell it start
Speaker 1: to finish. It's, of course a sad one in some ways,
Speaker 1: but it also is a happy one one that's filled
Speaker 1: with mystery, and maybe that will help some people understand
Speaker 1: why I choose to do what I do, why I
Speaker 1: interview a certain way. I'm looking, I'm searching, and I
Speaker 1: represent you because I am you. I want to know
Speaker 1: just as bad. I've seen things that I can't explain,
Speaker 1: and I don't try to. I saw a disc and
Speaker 1: a ball, but it's led me down a path that
Speaker 1: I can't I just can't even fathom. I can't believe.
Speaker 1: Some days I forget, I think we all do. How
Speaker 1: beautiful this world truly is, heaven hell, all of it?
Speaker 1: Does it matter? Right? Now we've got a paradise. Too
Speaker 1: many people spend their times looking ahead or over analyzing
Speaker 1: their past, and they forget all we have is the present.
Speaker 1: Stay humble, stay kind. We'll see you on the other side.
Speaker 1: Like that old and be nice.
Speaker 2: Shop me in his my head, Yeah, I thought it
Speaker 2: was gonna take you, you know, wear out, knocking you,
Speaker 2: riding with or something, just will wear money then more.
Speaker 1: W he's worked. I knocker. Oh him just laying the mouth.
Speaker 1: He sucks. He was face like a ship. He's trying
Speaker 1: to get away from you. Doesn't that tea you know
Speaker 1: or something? Buddy ouldn't have such an ugly playface. You
Speaker 1: guys have an ugly play face.
Speaker 2: I'm like Odin, I think I c a cry.
Speaker 1: Growers expect him
Podbean