Nick Pope (journalist)|Nick Pope

It feels utterly surreal to be writing this, to say goodbye to Nick. Nick Pope – journalist, investigator, and the most wonderfully, stubbornly curious person I’ve ever known – slipped away on April 7th, 2026, after a valiant battle with esophageal cancer. He was 61. Honestly, it feels like a piece of the world has dimmed a little. I met Nick back in university, a chaotic whirlwind of tweed jackets, half-finished cups of tea, and an insatiable need to understand *everything*. He had this incredible ability to take the most baffling, seemingly outlandish ideas and dissect them with a sharp wit and a genuine desire to find the truth, or at least, the most interesting story. I remember one time, we were arguing about the possibility of ancient astronauts – a topic he’d been obsessed with for years – and he just looked at me, completely serious, and said, “Don’t you want to know?” That was Nick in a nutshell: relentlessly inquisitive, utterly charming, and always, always wanting to know. Nick’s career was a fascinating blend of the serious and the wonderfully weird. From his time at the Ministry of Defence, where he meticulously investigated UFO reports, to his appearances on shows like ‘Ancient Aliens’ and ‘UFOs Declassified,’ he brought a unique blend of skepticism and open-mindedness to the conversation. He wasn’t trying to convince anyone of anything; he was simply presenting information, asking questions, and inviting people to think. But beyond the public persona, he was a deeply loving husband to Sarah and a devoted father to Leo and Poppy. He adored them fiercely, and their laughter was a constant soundtrack to his life. He’d spend hours building Lego castles with Leo, patiently explaining complex theories to Poppy, and always, always making time for Sarah, his rock and his best friend. What truly fueled Nick, though, wasn’t just the pursuit of the unusual; it was the joy of discovery. He was a passionate reader, a terrible but enthusiastic gardener (his tomatoes were legendary), and he could spend hours lost in a good documentary about the natural world. He had this incredible ability to find beauty and wonder in the simplest things – a perfectly formed snowflake, a rare bird song, a particularly well-written sentence. He genuinely believed in the power of knowledge and the importance of questioning everything, and he instilled that in everyone he met. Nick’s impact on those around him was profound. He encouraged us to be brave in our thinking, to embrace the unknown, and to never stop asking “why?” He leaves behind a legacy of curiosity, kindness, and a healthy dose of skepticism. We’ll miss his infectious enthusiasm, his dry wit, and his unwavering belief in the power of a good story. Rest in peace, my dear friend.