Garry Nolan Comes Clean About The Nazca Mummies (New Interview)

If you’ve been anywhere near UFO Twitter or anomalous archaeology lately, you’ve seen the Nazca mummies roar back into the spotlight. A new documentary from Jesse Michaels and a candid interview with Stanford’s Gary Nolan just poured fresh fuel on a fire that’s been smoldering since 2015. The question is deceptively simple: are these three‑fingered, three‑toed bodies from Peru genuine nonhuman beings—or cleverly assembled fakes crafted to mesmerize and monetize? The answer, as of today, sits in that maddening gray zone where curiosity, skepticism, money, and method all collide.

Here’s the quick version before we dig in. In 2015, a gravedigger reportedly stumbled on a cave near Nazca filled with more than 200 body parts and several intact bodies, many coated in diatomaceous earth. Researchers and enthusiasts now speak of three main “types”: tiny winged S‑types, geometric J‑types (some with supposed eggs), and the human‑sized M‑types that look most like hominins. The S‑types are widely considered hoaxes; the J‑types divide opinion; the M‑types have kept serious people interested—at least in principle.

What reignited the debate now? Michaels’ documentary compiles new imaging, testimony, and plans for fresh testing, while Nolan explained why, despite being asked many times, he has not taken the project on. His reasons have less to do with belief and more to do with process, resources, and what he calls the “circus” that scares off credible labs.

So where does that leave us? With tantalizing anatomy, messy provenance, inconsistent genetics, and a scientific community that refuses to play unless the rules of real science are followed. If you’re looking for certainty today, you won’t find it. If you’re looking for a roadmap to certainty, that’s the real story.

The Story So Far

According to accounts summarized in Michaels’ film, a digger named Leandro found a cave containing a trove of bodies and parts—heads, limbs, appendages—some allegedly with organs intact and radiocarbon dates overlapping the Nazca period. From this collection came three recurring forms:

- S‑types: very small, sometimes described as “winged.” Most researchers and even proponents treat these as fabricated. That alone should raise your guard for everything else recovered by the same chain of custody.

- J‑types (“reptilians”): 2–3 feet tall, boxy, stylized faces that evoke classic alien imagery. Some are claimed to have eggs in the torso. Imaging reportedly shows bones, vasculature, and fine structures that would be hard to fake—yet their cartoonish appearance triggers legitimate skepticism.

- M‑types (hominids): 4–5 feet tall bodies with tendons, cartilage, and bone arrangements that appear coherent. These are the specimens that keep anatomists engaged and where the strongest “maybe” lives.

What Makes These Bodies So Weird

On imaging, proponents point to tri‑dactyl hands and feet, unusual rib and pelvis configurations, and soft‑tissue details that suggest these aren’t simple Frankensteins of llamas and humans glued together. Some samples have reportedly produced protein and DNA signals; others come up muddy. If even one M‑type proved to be a single, coherent organism with consistent genetics across multiple tissues, it would be a headline for the ages.

And yet, unusual isn’t the same as authentic. Stylized morphology can be an artistic tradition. Clever reconstructions can embed animal parts in ways that fool the eye on first pass. Without ironclad provenance, clean sampling, and independent replication, “looks real” remains just that: a look.

The Red Flags You Can’t Ignore

A big one arrives early: if part of the collection (S‑types) is already acknowledged as hoaxed or “constructed,” why should we trust the rest from the same source? If you walked into a jewelry store and the first diamond turned out to be glass, would you buy the second on faith? The provenance problem haunts this case: who found what, where, and when; how the bodies were handled; and whether financial incentives guided how they’ve been presented.

Another red flag is narrative contamination. The debate often references viral oddities like the “Russian snow alien” video—an example that lives permanently in the low‑information zone. As Michaels himself concedes, gun to the head, that clip is probably fake. Using it as an analog risks importing noise into a conversation already drowning in it.

Then there’s the market. Multiple sources—including Michaels—say specimens or parts have been offered on the black market for serious money. If you’re selling, ambiguity is your best friend: keep the mystery alive and the price stays high. Conclusive “true” or “false” collapses the value. That incentive structure alone demands robust skepticism.

Gary Nolan’s Line in the Sand

If there’s one voice that helped clarify the stakes, it’s Gary Nolan’s. He’s been asked “a few dozen times” to study the mummies. He said no—not because he’s sure they’re fake, but because the conditions offered would make real science impossible.

- No reality‑TV science: One early requirement was that every moment of his work be filmed. That’s a hard pass for any serious lab. Science isn’t a movie set, and students, institutions, and collaborators won’t tolerate a media circus.

- Real budgets, real teams: Nolan estimated roughly $5 million to do it right. Not for fees, but to fund postdocs, bioinformaticians, anatomists, and multiple independent teams. The work would begin by assembling all existing data, auditing methods and instruments, and planning blinded, controlled follow‑ups meant for peer‑review—not YouTube.

- Chain of custody and silence while working: Credible labs will demand secure custody, contamination controls, and the ability to work without daily leaks to social media. Nolan cited a separate episode—an alleged “sphere” case—where agreed‑upon discretion collapsed overnight. That’s precisely the behavior that keeps top labs away.

In other words: if you want the A‑team, you have to play by A‑team rules. Otherwise, you get more noise, more doubt, and fewer willing experts.

The Money, the Market, and the Grift Problem

Michaels makes a sharp observation: grifters love liminal space. Keep a case unsolved and you can keep telling the story, selling access, and moving artifacts. Add black‑market offers in the “seven figures,” and you create a perfect storm where incentive and ambiguity reinforce each other.

Does that mean everyone involved is a grifter? No. It means mechanisms exist that can warp behavior and incentives, even among well‑meaning people. If buyers, dealers, and intermediaries are in the mix, every claim—positive or negative—deserves extra scrutiny.

Can Cutting‑Edge Genetics Help?

The documentary teases collaboration with high‑profile genetics groups to revisit the samples. The aspiration is welcome. But here’s the part the public rarely sees: world‑class ancient DNA work isn’t a single lab coat with a Q‑tip. It’s a multistage, multi‑institution effort with ruthless controls.

What would a credible plan look like?

- Non‑destructive imaging first: full‑body CT and micro‑CT to map anatomy, joints, sutures, and any seams or composites.

- Independent sampling: multiple labs agree on a blinded sampling plan; authenticated chain of custody from extraction to analysis; subsamples from bone, tooth dentin, and soft tissue where possible.

- Contamination controls: extraction in clean rooms; inclusion of negative controls; quantification of human and animal contamination; damage pattern analysis consistent with ancient DNA.

- Cross‑matching within a body: as Nolan suggested, DNA from hand, foot, rib, and tooth should match if the organism is real. If they don’t match, you’re looking at a composite.

- Replication and preregistration: independent labs replicate results; methods and analysis pipelines are preregistered and shared; data deposited for audit.

If you see those elements present—and see them survive peer review—you’ll know the field is moving from stories to science.

What About the “Anatomists Say It’s Not Constructed” Claim?

Supporters often note that anatomists who examined the larger bodies say they can’t see evidence of construction—at least in the limited samples they reviewed. That’s interesting, but it isn’t dispositive. Expert eyes matter; so do hard data. CT scans can miss subtle seams; skillful reconstructions can hide joins; and without matched genetics, anatomy alone can mislead. Treat anatomical assessments as necessary but not sufficient.

A Word on Viral Anecdotes and Presidential Wink‑Nods

A memorable anecdote circulating in this conversation is Steven Spielberg’s recollection of President Reagan thanking him for a screening and implying that “what you saw is true.” Whether Reagan referenced E.T. or Close Encounters, it’s a fun story—nothing more. Anecdotes make great icebreakers; they make lousy evidence. Enjoy them, but don’t build your conclusions on them.

So What Should Happen Next?

- Publish a transparent provenance: names, dates, locations, and custody from discovery to present—warts and all.

- Pause the press tours: if a serious coalition of labs signs on, go quiet until data are in. No drip‑feeding.

- Fund it properly: if this is the biggest find of the century, treat it like it. Budget for a full, multi‑year, multi‑lab study.

- Precommit to outcomes: if the data say “hoax” or “composite,” publish that without spin. If they say “unknown,” publish that, too—along with the raw data.

Where I Land Right Now

If you forced a verdict today, I’d say this: the M‑types are the only lane worth serious study; the S‑types should be set aside as hoaxes; the J‑types remain aesthetically suspicious even if some imaging looks impressive. The genetics so far are inconsistent and likely confounded by handling and contamination. The black‑market chatter is a stink that won’t wash out without radical transparency. And the scientific community’s reluctance has less to do with fear of truth and more to do with fear of the circus.

Final Takeaway

The Nazca mummies might be the story of our time—or the most sophisticated hoax in a century. We won’t know until the work is done correctly: pristine chain of custody, independent labs, blinded sampling, matched genetics across tissues, and peer‑reviewed publication. If you care about the truth, don’t reward ambiguity. Reward process.

Be curious. Be skeptical. And demand the kind of science that can withstand both. Until then, enjoy the documentaries as documentaries—and hold your strongest conclusions in pencil.

If you want to browse source material yourself, start with public repositories that gather scans and reports, insist on primary documents when possible, and keep an eye out for any future studies that meet the standards above. The moment hard data land, this debate moves from YouTube to history books—or to the ash heap of great cautionary tales.