Sometime after 2 a.m. on October 28, 1973, a police patrol on Highway 3 outside Bahia Blanca, Argentina, pulled in behind a big truck parked on the shoulder. The flat tire was plain to see. The jack was already in place, and the spare lay a few feet away. The cab was unlocked and tidy, with the documents stacked neatly in the glove box. The driver was nowhere to be found.
The officers called out and searched the dark ground around the truck. They found no one, no sign of a struggle, nothing at all. It was as though the driver had simply vanished.
A tire that could wait
The driver was Dionisio Llanca, 25, unmarried and still living in his parents' house in the province of Rio Negro. He'd done a year in the Argentine military without distinction or drama, then took up trucking, a job that seemed to suit him. He spent that evening at his uncle's home just outside Bahia Blanca, eating salad and steak in front of the American TV show It Takes a Thief, starring Robert Wagner. Around midnight he was due to set out on a two-day run hauling building materials to Patagonia.
Before climbing into the cab, he noticed one rear tire looked a bit low. He decided it could wait. He stopped for fuel, let it ride again, and pulled back onto Highway 3. Less than 30 minutes later the tire was going flat fast, and instead of a brightly lit service station he had a gravel shoulder at a spot called Villa Bordeu, about 11 miles from Bahia Blanca, with only a thin crescent moon for light. The road was deserted.
As he knelt and cranked the jack, an intense yellow light flooded the darkness. He figured it was an approaching car's headlights and kept working. Then the light turned bluish. He tried to stand and found his legs wouldn't cooperate. Twisting around, he saw an enormous, glowing, plate-shaped object hovering motionless about 20 feet off the ground. Standing close behind him were three figures. He hadn't heard a single footstep on the loose rock. When he tried to speak, his voice was as frozen as his legs.
The man with no name
Hours later a good Samaritan found a young man wandering the center of Bahia Blanca, asking over and over for the police station, and brought him to Bahia Blanca Municipal Hospital. Trauma specialist Dr. Ricardo Smirnoff found a patient with complete retrograde amnesia, the total loss of memories from before an event. He didn't know his own name or his parents' names. He was weeping and terrified. He had no bump, bruise or burn, yet he complained of severe pain in his head and flung himself backward when the doctor reached toward it. Smirnoff treated him for a possible skull fracture, though he couldn't see how a blow hard enough to wipe out a man's memory could leave no mark.
When his memory came flooding back, Llanca asked for his watch, his cigarettes and his lighter. In the 1970s, patients could still smoke in bed. None of those things were on him. He did have cash in his trouser pocket, which made a robbery hard to believe. He had come to on the ground about six miles from his truck, cold and queasy, and staggered toward distant headlights.
Under hypnosis and truth serum, Dionisio Llanca told the same abduction story four times, down to the words and gestures. It made him nothing and cost him his family and his fiancée. His only regret was ever telling anyone.
Four sessions, one story
A team of psychiatrists, two psychologists, a surgeon and a trauma expert studied him for more than 10 weeks. Starting November 6, they put him under hypnosis, in some sessions with sodium pentothal, the barbiturate nicknamed "truth serum." The drug leaves a person highly suggestible, and the American Journal of Psychiatry had condemned its use in criminal investigations back in 1954 as "doubtful value and unethical." Even so, across four sessions, Llanca told the same story with the same words and even the same gestures.
He said the three were two men and a woman, all with fair hair, high wide foreheads and large, slightly protruding eyes. They stood 5'6" to 5'8" and wore snug, dull gray jumpsuits, with gloves up to the elbow and boots the color of a chamois polishing cloth. They talked in something more like the buzzing of bees or radio static, with no vowels at all. One hauled him up by the collar, though not roughly, while another pressed a small device to the base of his index finger. He saw a few drops of blood, and his waking memory stops there.
Under hypnosis, more came out. He described being carried up a beam of light to the craft, which was yellow on top and purple underneath. Inside was a floor the color of lead and something like television screens full of stars. The beings spoke to him through a translating device and also inside his head. They said they had come from an unimaginable distance, had been visiting Earth for a very long time, and were collecting samples to make a record of life here for posterity. They were also testing whether humans could survive being moved off the planet, because Earth faced catastrophe if people did not change their behavior. They told him he was a good, simple person, and that they might come back for him.
He also described a cable running from the ship to the high-tension power line beside the highway. That night the local grid recorded a 10-ampere spike in demand, with none of the temperature rise that normally explains one. Air traffic controllers at a nearby naval air base reported a UFO on October 27. On November 3, six Navy personnel tracked another on radar for more than 20 minutes. Decades later, in 1995, the Bahia Blanca events turned up in CIA files declassified under President Bill Clinton.
What it cost him
Every session ended the same way: a being placed a hand under his left eye, then over both eyes, and the rest was black. Somewhere between 90 minutes and two hours were never accounted for. Hypnotist Dr. Eladio Santos concluded Llanca was telling his truth and that this was no hoax. Psychiatrist Dr. Eduardo Matta, who called him primitive and simplistic, said Llanca had no knowledge of UFOs and no interest in them. Matta floated Korsakoff syndrome, a condition that pairs amnesia with confabulation, meaning invented memories that fill the gaps. But no one found the theory convincing.
Llanca never sold his story or went looking for fame. He quit trucking. He cut off the girlfriend he had planned to marry in January 1974. His parents banished him from the family home, though all he had wanted in the hospital was to go back to his mother and father. In his seventies he gave one interview, told the same story, and said that if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't tell a soul.
