In the hush of a chilly February evening in 1989, something extraordinary happened over the skies of Fyffe, Alabama—a sleepy little town nestled in the northeast corner of the state, home to fewer than 2,000 souls. It was the kind of place where the biggest excitement might be a high school football game or a trip to the Piggly Wiggly. That is, until the skies lit up and the phones at the Fyffe Police Department started ringing.
What followed was one of Alabama’s most talked-about mass UFO sightings—and it still has people talking, gathering, and sky-watching every year.
It all began on February 11, 1989, when a woman called the Fyffe Police Department to report an unusual object in the sky. She wasn’t hysterical. She wasn’t alone. What she described would soon be echoed by dozens of others.
Within hours, over 50 residents had reported seeing something strange—an object that defied easy explanation. People described it as hovering at an angle, silent, with bright lights glowing from the top, bottom, and center. Witnesses even claimed the edges glowed green, outlining a curved, almost craft-like form.
This wasn’t just the imagination of a few overzealous star-watchers. This was a shared, consistent description by an entire community.
When you’re dealing with UFO sightings, skeptics always want to know: Who saw it? Were they credible?
Well, how about this: Fyffe’s own police chief, Junior Garmany, and his assistant, Fred Works, responded to one of the many calls that night—and they saw the object too.
These weren’t attention-seekers or thrill-seeking teenagers. These were local lawmen. Trained observers. Men sworn to protect and serve, suddenly staring up at something they couldn’t explain.
Chief Garmany would later describe the sighting with the same vivid clarity as the townspeople: strange lights, eerie stillness, no sound of aircraft, and a sensation that something wasn’t quite… human.
News spread fast. Reporters, investigators, and curiosity-seekers descended on Fyffe like moths to a flame. People were scanning the sky with binoculars. MUFON was notified. The incident was even picked up by national media.
Rather than shy away from the spotlight, Fyffe leaned in—and embraced the mystery.
Today, the town hosts an annual event known as “Fyffe UFO Days,” a celebration of that unforgettable weekend. It features live music, food, arts and crafts, and of course—UFO-themed everything. It’s a quirky, cosmic celebration of small-town charm mixed with otherworldly fascination.
What started as fear and confusion has turned into tradition.
Fyffe isn’t alone. Alabama has a rich—some might say haunted—history of unexplained aerial phenomena.
Take, for example, the Chiles-Whitted UFO encounter in 1948. Two commercial airline pilots reported a glowing cigar-shaped object with windows and flames shooting out the back near Montgomery. The Air Force investigated. The conclusion? A meteor. (Of course, skeptics often say “meteor” when they want things to go away quietly.)
Then there’s the Falkville Photo Incident from 1973. Police Chief Jeff Greenhaw received a report of a strange figure on the side of the road. When he arrived, he snapped a photo of what he believed was a being in a metallic suit—an image that still makes the rounds in UFO communities.
And let’s not forget the Pascagoula Abduction—just across the border in Mississippi, but still part of the southern UFO lore. In 1973, Charles Hickson and Calvin Parker claimed they were abducted by robotic aliens. Their story has withstood decades of scrutiny and polygraph tests.
From mysterious crafts over cornfields to green-glowing silhouettes floating in the night, the South is no stranger to high strangeness. Fyffe’s 1989 sightings are just one entry in a long ledger of unexplained encounters.
And whether you believe in aliens, ultra-terrestrials, interdimensional travelers, or just good old-fashioned government cover-ups—one thing is certain: the people of Fyffe saw something. Something real. Something unforgettable.
So if you ever find yourself in northeast Alabama during UFO Days, look up. You just might see history repeating itself.
After all, once the sky opens over a town… it rarely closes again.