Former Skinwalker Ranch Owner Reveals What Really Happened On The Ranch

Now they start feeling better and the camera is is catching all this in multiple shots and it’s a cloud. There’s you can’t count them. There’s thousands and you can’t it’s in a cloud formation and only on the periphery are you able to start to see some individual ones.
When former Skinwalker ranch owner Robert Bigalow finally revealed what really happened on that property, he admitted one thing no investigator was prepared for. The paranormal phenomenon didn’t stay on the ranch. It followed people home into bedrooms, children’s rooms, and even the houses of federal officials who visited only once.
>> So, we’ve got the ridge line fairly well defined. And now, look at this.
>> There.
>> Wo wo wo.
>> There it is. Go back. Go back.
>> What is that?
>> And every time someone tried to investigate it, it got worse.
What Bigalow exposed didn’t just rewrite the investigation, it rewrote the risk.
And the most disturbing part, the ranch wasn’t the final destination. It was the starting point. This video breaks down exactly what Bigalow experienced, the government’s response, and why he believes the ranch is only the starting point of something far more dangerous, the phenomena.
From the moment Bigalow took control of Skinwalker Ranch, one fact became impossible to ignore. [music] The paranormal activity didn’t stay on the ranch. It followed people. Robert Bigalow was no ordinary ranch buyer. He was a Las Vegas hotel magnate turned aerospace pioneer. Someone who’d already funded research into consciousness, [music] UFO encounters, and unexplained aerial phenomena. When he purchased Skinwalker Ranch in the ’90s, he didn’t do it for cattle or land. He did it because he believed something there was real, and he was willing to spend millions to prove it. But even he underestimated what he had just stepped into. Investigators began noticing a pattern that set the property apart from every other alleged hot spot in the country. After spending extended time on site, Bigalow and members of his research team reported disturbances inside their own homes, sharp localized knocks, footsteps in empty rooms, and sudden impacts against walls with no physical cause. His wife described sensory events that could not be explained by temperature shifts, settling structures, or household appliances.
Then others started reporting the same thing. Researchers, contractors, and federal personnel who visited the ranch described unexplained lights appearing in their houses, abrupt noises that didn’t match mechanical sources, and sudden pressure changes in sealed rooms.
In several cases, the first disturbance happened within 24 hours of leaving the ranch. In others, the events appeared weeks later without warning.
Environmental testing found no electrical issues, no air pressure anomalies, and no structural faults.
Every possible conventional explanation fell apart. Bigalow later said, “Nobody believed me.” And for a while, no one did until unrelated personnel, interviewed separately and across different states, began repeating the same details he had once kept to himself. Once the pattern became undeniable, the team realized something critical. On-site monitoring would never capture the full scope of the phenomena.
Something had been running the ranch for a long time, possibly long before Bigalow ever set foot on it. And if Bigalow thought the activity on his ranch was intense, he had no idea what the previous owners had already survived. The transfer of ownership.
Before Bigalow ever set foot on Skinwalker Ranch, the land already had a reputation. and the people who lived there before him, the Sherman family, [music] were dealing with things no rancher anywhere could explain or prepare for. The trouble started with their animals. Cattle were found dead with surgical clean cuts, no blood, and no tracks leading to or away from the bodies. Predators leave a mess. These injuries looked deliberate, controlled, precise, and every loss pushed the family deeper into financial danger.
Then came the sky. The Shermans reported glowing shapes moving silently above their fields. Lights that changed direction instantly, brightened [music] without warning, and hovered low enough to illuminate the ground in perfect circles. Sometimes their equipment malfunctioned the moment the lights appeared. Engines died, batteries drained, tools stopped working, even when brand new. These weren’t isolated moments. Their stories matched decades of earlier reports collected across the entire Uenta basin. strange lights, animal injuries, electrical failures, and physical disturbances that didn’t follow any normal pattern. Ranchers, officers, and tribal residents all described the same things long before the Shermans arrived. This was the pattern Bigalow paid attention to because when he bought the ranch, [music] he wasn’t just buying property.
He was stepping into a place with a documented history of events that repeated across generations. The Shermans weren’t imagining things. They were living inside a hot spot. And Bigalow’s team would soon realize one thing. Everything that happened to the Shermans was only the beginning. Because the next development didn’t come from the ranch at all. It came from Washington. The contact. A major turning point in the investigation came when Bigalow got a verified call from James Latsky, a representative from the Defense Intelligence Agency. That moment shifted the project from something privately funded to something that now included involvement from the federal government.
The first confirmed case where strange activity followed someone home became the example that every later off-site report was compared to. The investigator had spent a full week on the ranch doing night checks, taking environmental readings, and setting up new equipment in the areas known for repeated events.
During his stay, there were several moments when heavy drumlike hits were recorded inside ranch buildings while he watched under controlled conditions. But when he went back home, the same thing started again. The hits landed on an inside wall that had no cracks or weak points. The rhythm was exactly the same as the pattern he had written down at the ranch. Two quick hits, a short pause, then one stronger hit. It lined up too perfectly to call it a coincidence.
He checked every part of his home. The support beams were solid. No pipes, vents, or moving parts ran through the wall that was struck. A licensed contractor later confirmed that the house couldn’t make sounds like that on its own. No heat expansion, no settling, and no appliance cycle could create that force or that repeated pattern. The hits started happening at different moments through the day, just like the unpredictable timing he had measured out in the field. Within 2 days, more strange things happened. His spouse, who had never visited the ranch, said the air in the hallways suddenly shifted with quick changes and pressure strong enough to make door frames move slightly. The floor sometimes felt like someone had taken slow, firm steps nearby, even though no one else was walking in the house. These things happened even when the investigator was gone and his spouse was completely alone. ruling out the idea that she was just influenced by his expectations.
The order of events, first the hits, then the pressure changes, was the same pattern the team had documented during the investigator’s rotation on the ranch that pushed the team into debate, especially when other investigators later reported almost identical experiences in different states. The homes were built differently and had no shared features, yet the same set of disturbances occurred. sharp local strikes, sudden pressure shifts, and movement in empty [music] rooms. These early cases made one thing clear. It wasn’t distance [music] that mattered, but exposure. Once someone had direct contact with the phenomenon, the activity could show up in their home, no matter how far away they lived or how unrelated the structure was to the ranch.
This realization forced the team to widen their approach and shaped the direction of the next stage of the investigation that took them off the ranch. Disturbances inside family homes.
The most serious changes in the investigation began when the strange activity started showing up inside family living spaces. Researchers who had just returned from working on the ranch reported odd events happening not in their offices or work areas but inside their children’s bedrooms and other shared parts of their homes. These rooms had nothing to do with the investigation. No tools, sensors, or field equipment had ever been stored there. The choice of location made it clear that whatever was happening wasn’t reacting only to research work. Instead, it seemed to follow people back into the most normal and private parts of their everyday lives.
Parents reported ceiling lights turning on by themselves, even when the wall switches were still flipped off. In several houses, doors [music] briefly bent inward as if pushed by a sudden change in air pressure, even though there was no draft, no open windows, and no heating or cooling systems running at the time. Some investigators also felt short bursts of vibration in their floors. These lasted less than a second, too quick to be explained by building movement, but strong enough to be clearly noticed. These sensations matched reports from the ranch’s barns, sheds, and monitored walking paths.
Because the events were happening in multiple homes, each with [music] different designs and different ages, independent checks were arranged.
Electricians inspected the wiring and found no faulty circuits. HVAC experts looked for pressure spikes and found none. Structural engineers examined the buildings and confirmed that none of them had weaknesses or defects that could cause these kinds of effects.
Homes built in different decades with no shared features showed the same tight pattern of disturbances. The most troubling information came from the children themselves.
Several mentioned seeing quick flashes of movement, feeling sudden changes in the air in their rooms, or sensing a brief awareness of being watched. None of the children knew anything about the investigation. Yet, their descriptions lined up perfectly with what field researchers had already documented, ruling out the chance that they were influenced or fed information. None of them knew what their parents did. None had ever heard of Skinwalker Ranch.
These developments raised major concerns within the team. The situation showed that it could appear on its own inside homes without any scientific equipment present [music] and without anyone trying to record it. Its presence in areas used by family members who had no involvement in the investigation crossed a line no one had expected to deal with.
And this created a new and serious problem just as government officials and contractors began visiting the ranch.
The same pattern.
Federal officials first approached their visits to the ranch as routine checks, expecting to review the claims using normal inspection procedures. None of them were warned that the strange activity might follow them home after they left the site. But within a few days of returning to their own houses, several officials began filing reports describing events that matched the off-site patterns already experienced by private researchers. These accounts came through internal safety channels, agency memos, and direct messages to project leaders, forming a separate set of data that developed without input from Bigalow’s team. One official said that objects in his home changed position within very short periods of time. These were heavy household items that would not move because of vibration, wind, or temperature changes. Infrared sensors inside the home picked up motion readings that lasted less than 2 seconds, too quick to represent normal movement, yet consistent with readings collected during earlier field events.
Security checks showed no signs of break-ins, no animals, and no environmental issues that could explain the disturbances. Another official reported visual distortions in the side hallways of his home. Interestingly, he never saw the distortion himself, but the sightings came from his children who knew nothing about the ranch or the purpose of his trip. Their descriptions matched what researchers had been hearing about earlier cases almost word for word. Quick flashes of movement, sudden shifts, and brief blockages in their line of sight that left no marks behind.
Even though the affected homes differed in layout, climate, altitude, and overall design, the disturbances still showed the same core features, they appeared briefly, affected small areas, and had no mechanical or natural explanation. Internal emails later showed that every federal visitor experienced something, even if the event was mild. A single unexplained knock, one quick visual glitch, or a short sensor alert still matched the same pattern seen in stronger cases. The consistency across different agencies showed that the phenomenon was reacting to personal exposure, not job status or government involvement. Being affiliated with the government didn’t make the effects stronger or weaker. It simply added more people to an already active system. As more departments acknowledged that their own personnel were experiencing off-site disturbances, investigators realized they had to widen their approach. Off-site events could no longer be dismissed as rare, random, or based on personal imagination.
They were now seen as regular extensions of whatever was happening at the ranch, requiring careful documentation and comparison with on-site reports. The situation became even more serious once researchers noticed that the strange activity increased whenever someone tried to record or measure it directly.
Direct experiments.
The moment the team tried to study the phenomenon under controlled scientific conditions, something strange happened.
The paranormal activity didn’t just react, it changed. To eliminate every normal explanation, researchers built a fully sealed test environment, a table inside a sealed trailer, photographs taken before the test started, motion sensors sensitive enough to detect movements smaller than a millimeter, and outside cameras watching every angle inside and out. [music] Nothing could get in. Nothing could touch the setup.
Everything was photographed, logged, and verified. [music] Then the impossible happened. When the team returned hours later, the jacks were no longer scattered. They were neatly grouped by color in perfect rows.
The ball had rolled to the opposite end of the table. No sensors had triggered, no temperature spikes, no vibrations, no door openings, no footsteps, nothing.
The trailer was still sealed. It was as if someone or something had moved the objects while avoiding every piece of equipment designed to catch it. And this wasn’t a one-off fluke. In another experiment, a sudden flash of light filled a sealed room and was captured on camera. The footage was clear until the camera died only after recording the flash. When the team tried to recreate it, nothing ever happened again. Other tests picked up narrow bands of freezing air moving across a room with surgical precision, 15 cm wide, traveling like an invisible ribbon before vanishing.
No vents, no AC, and no electrical interference explained it. Sometimes electromagnetic spikes appeared the moment researchers started a measurement, then dropped to zero the instant they stopped. It was as if the phenomenon responded to being watched.
The pattern became undeniable. The most dramatic anomalies happened only under strict controls. They appeared suddenly, ended instantly, and never repeated on command. And every time the team tried to observe more closely, the activity slipped just out of reach. Skinwalker Ranch wasn’t just producing strange events. It was behaving like something that didn’t want to be measured. And what came next forced the team to confront a new and disturbing reality.
The phenomenon wasn’t just interacting with their equipment. It was interacting with them. Termination of ownership. The moment investigators realized the phenomenon wasn’t limited to the ranch, everything changed. What they once assumed was a location quickly revealed itself to be something far more unsettling, something that attached to people. By the end of his 20-year involvement, Bigalow reached a line he could no longer cross. The phenomenon wasn’t just unpredictable, it was uncontrollable.
Anyone who spent time on the ranch, researchers, contractors, agency analysts, and even short-term federal visitors began noticing disturbances that continued long after they went back home. and the people experiencing them had one thing in common. They had spent time on Skinwalker Ranch or had been in contact with someone who had visited the ranch. This supported the idea that the disturbances followed people, not locations.
And the moment it began appearing inside investigators homes, especially near their spouses and children, the ranch stopped being a research site and became a liability he could no longer justify.
Bigalow realized something no safety protocol could fix. The danger wasn’t on the ranch. It was wherever the investigators went next. Personnel who had spent only brief periods on the property later reported the same disturbances seen in long-term cases.
Knocks, flashes of movement, pressure changes, and sensor triggers with no physical source. There was no pattern, no threshold, no warning. Exposure didn’t scale with time and it didn’t discriminate by role. A single visit was enough. That made the situation impossible to manage. You can restrict access to a ranch. You cannot restrict what follows people home. At the same time, Bigalow’s aerospace programs were expanding. They required strict timelines, regulatory attention, and constant oversight. All things the ranch could never offer. The phenomenon operated on its own schedule, appearing in irregular bursts that demanded immediate response. One project required complete control. The other offered none. Worse, the research itself was becoming more complex. Detecting the phenomenon accurately would require additional personnel, deeper monitoring, and more invasive data collection inside private spaces. Steps Bigalow could not ethically approve while the risk to families remained unresolved.
So he made the call. Ending ownership closed one of the longest privately funded investigations into anomalous activity in US history. It allowed Bigalow to step back, [music] analyze two decades of data, and avoid exposing new personnel to the growing off-site risk. The transfer also reset the environment, giving future researchers a clean slate and the freedom to approach the ranch without inheriting the same liabilities. [music] And when Bigalow finally looked back at everything that had happened, at the patterns, the cases, and the consequences, he reached a conclusion that changed the entire meaning of the ranch itself.
Bigalow’s final conclusion.
After 20 years of involvement, Bigalow concluded that earlier investigators had misunderstood the core of the problem.
The key factor was not the land itself, but the relationship between the environment and the people who entered it. In his view, the ranch acted as a starting point, a place where contact began, after which the phenomenon followed the individual into their own life, continuing far from the property.
This interpretation matched the entire collection of field reports. People with no shared history, working in unrelated roles, and living in completely different places, still experienced off-site disturbances that followed the same precise pattern. Living hundreds or even thousands of miles away from the ranch did not reduce the effects. Time spent on the property also turned out to be less important than expected. Some people experienced disturbances after being on the ranch for less than an hour. Others who worked there much longer dealt with extended activity afterward. These differences suggested that length of exposure wasn’t the trigger. Any presence at the ranch might be enough to start later effects.
Bigalow believed this showed that the ranch wasn’t a container holding the activity. Instead, it acted as an entry point into something much larger. The phenomenon did not rely on staying near the site, specific environmental conditions, or repeated visits. Once a person encountered it, everything that came afterward happened within their own surroundings. This idea differed sharply from earlier assumptions that strange activity could be studied by isolating a single hot spot. The conclusion reshaped the whole investigative model Skinwalker Ranch was still important, but not because it held the phenomenon inside its borders. Its importance came from being the first place where people made contact with something that could spread beyond any controlled setting.
Seen from this angle, the decision to sell the ranch was tied directly to the belief that the activity may have begun there, but it did not stop there. He eventually came to see the ranch as a doorway into a much larger system.
something spread out, active, and not tied to the land itself. What happened on the property was only the first layer. In later interviews, he repeated that he had tried telling people what was happening, but in his own words, “Nobody believed me.” The more serious effects appeared in the personal lives of those who worked at the site.
Exposure didn’t follow rules. It could happen without warning, and the effects often lingered for weeks or even months.
In several cases, the disturbances reached family members, including spouses and children, showing that the phenomenon wasn’t limited to the people who directly handled the research. With risks spreading far beyond the property, staying involved became impossible to justify.
Continuing the work meant taking the chance of increasing the intensity and frequency of events happening far from the ranch.
At that point, the scientific value of staying could no longer balance the practical and ethical problems created by something that detached from the land and followed people across the country.
Bigalow began describing the ranch not as the center of the phenomenon, but simply as the first point of contact.
That idea shaped his decision to step away and reshaped how later researchers approached the place. It was no longer viewed as an isolated hot spot, but as the entrance to a wider and still unmapped system of activity. And once the ranch was understood as a beginning rather than a boundary, the bigger questions became impossible to ignore.
If the phenomenon really reaches beyond the ranch, then what do you think it’s actually aiming for? Share your thoughts in the comments. Thank you for watching and we’ll see you in the next one.