Article by Hannah Shirley May 4, 2021 (duluthnewstribune.com)
• In the early morning of August 27, 1979, Marshall County Sheriff’s deputy Val Johnson was driving his squad car down a dark highway about 16 miles outside Stephen, Minnesota, near the Canadian border. Johnson saw a bright orb of light, about a foot in diameter and hovering 3 or 4 feet off the ground ahead of him. He drove right into the orb which crashed through his windshield and then traveled back out of the car. Johnson apparently blacked out.
• When Johnson came to at about 1:40 am and called his dispatch to report the crash, he realized that he had been unconscious for about a half hour. Both his wristwatch and his car’s clock were 14 minutes slow. “I don’t know what happened,” he said over the radio while he waited for an ambulance. “Something hit me.”
• The incident left the car’s windshield and one headlight smashed, and both antennas bent. Skid marks from the vehicle could be seen for 800 feet. After being examined by a physician, Johnson was diagnosed with “welder-type” burns on his eyes similar to those suffered by people exposed to bright lights. But investigators could never determine the cause of the crash.
• In the forty years since the “Val Johnson Incident”, the patrol car has become a permanent exhibit and the biggest attraction in the Marshall County Historical Society Museum. In recent years, interest in the car and Johnson’s story have only grown, according to Kent Broten, president of the historical society. However, Johnson has never actually claimed that he saw a UFO. He maintains that he doesn’t know what he saw.
• Chad Lewis, a self-described “researcher of the weird” has written extensively about the Val Johnson incident and spoken about it on numerous occasions at the museum. “Some said they were around at that time, and it was all blown out of proportion,” says Lewis. In 1979, “everybody had UFO fever.” But Lewis says that other people in the community were “down to earth, rural people, [who] weren’t quick to make up a ruse for publicity”, and believed that Val had seen something.
• Eventually, the world moved on and the Val Johnson Incident faded from a sensational headline to a quirky part of local history. The new, younger fans of the Val Johnson Incident aren’t as interested in Val Johnson himself so much as they are in the paranormal and unexplained. Some make the trip every year just to see the car.
• Today, the Val Johnson Incident is considered one of the more significant events in ufology due to the facts that the incident left damage to the vehicle, that the reporting party was someone as credible as a sheriff’s deputy, and that independent investigators examined the car and failed to come up with any explanation. The hallmarks of the case – the loss of time, the faded memory, Johnson’s strange injuries, the bright light – would all become common elements of future UFO “sightings”. “If [Johnson] was looking to make this up, he would have been hard-pressed,” said Lewis. “[U]nless he was very interested in UFO literature and folklore, [but] he probably wouldn’t have known that.”
• Many skeptics at the time pointed out other plausible explanations, even if none could be proved. Some believed that Johnson was hot-rodding his vehicle out on the county road that night, and made the event up to cover his misconduct. Others believe he actually encountered a plane smuggling drugs into the state from Canada. Lewis says that people would be surprised how often people in rural northwest Minnesota notice strange things in the night sky. “Most of the people that talk to me said, ‘I’m not saying what it was, it was just really weird…something I’ve never seen.’ I think people are not aware of how common these reports have become.”
WARREN, Minn. — Whatever you believe happened the night of Aug. 27, 1979, one
thing is certain: Val Johnson’s police cruiser hit something.
In the moments after the Marshall County Sheriff’s deputy awoke in his car in the middle of the night on a dark road, the front of his vehicle bearing obvious damage, that was the only thing he knew for certain, too.
“I don’t know what happened,” he said over the radio to a county dispatcher while he waited for an ambulance. “Something hit me.”
Johnson’s call to dispatch came at about 1:40 a.m. about 16 miles outside Stephen, Minn. Johnson didn’t know it yet, but he had been unconscious for about a half hour. The deputy was known for carefully setting his watch to match the dashboard clock in his cruiser b
efore every shift – but when he awoke, both his watch and the clock were 14 minutes
slow.
The details of the crash only got stranger. Johnson told the dispatcher that just before the crash, he saw a bright orb of light, about 8 to 12 inches in diameter and hovering 3 or 4 feet off the ground. The last thing he remembered was driving into the light, and seeing the orb enter the car through his windshield before going back out.
The incident left the car’s windshield and one headlight smashed, and both antennas bent. Skid marks from the vehicle could be seen for 800 feet. After being examined by a physician, Johnson was diagnosed with “welder-type” burns on his eyes similar to those suffered by people exposed to bright lights.
Investigators were brought in, but could never determine the cause of the crash.
Those who were directly involved in the night’s events couldn’t be reached – some loved ones told the Grand Forks Herald that after 40 years of cold calls, they had grown reticent about discussing what has come to be known as the “Val Johnson Incident.”
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