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Old January 18th, 2006 (5:36 PM).
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Zerro Zerro is offline
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    It was writen by Keith a demonologist from TAPS, discribing his eyewittness accounts. Let me hear your comments.

    The case actually originated during the first week of January 2004. Coincidentally, Sandra, myself, my brother Carl and Christopher Finch had just been investigating an alleged case of possession in RI, when we were contacted by our friends Bill and Nancy Washell of Maine Paranormal, to assist on a case possibly involving an inhuman entity, in Lewiston, Maine. (What a way to start out the New Year!)
    It was late afternoon on January 3rd that Sandra, myself, Jill R. and Brian H. started out on the trip from Warwick, RI to Lewiston, ME. Unfortunately, Brian had suddenly and unexpectedly been hit by a feeling of fatigue and illness. In fact, by the time we set out, he was indeed looking quite green around the gills. But, he insisted on making the trip anyway, and asked me to drive his car.
    Upon our arrival in Lewiston that evening some hours later, we found the roads to be completely iced over, making driving conditions extremely treacherous...not to mention that Brian's condition had progressively worsened along the way.
    After stopping at several different locations, however, we finally arrived at the correct residence. Bill and Nancy Washell were already there, along with another member of their investigation team.
    After greeting us, they introduced us to Leo and Marguerite, who from the start appeared to be a loveable, grandparent-type older couple, of French Canadian descent.
    After the introductions had been made, myself and the three other TAPS members were seated, and served hunks of homemade peanut butter fudge and soda. (Brian, still feeling queasy, declined the refreshments with thanks.) Also present in the room was Lisa, the fianc of Leo's and Marguerite's son Clifford. When Sandra had readied our video cam, the interview then commenced.
    As had been previously told to us by Bill and Nancy, the family had first moved into this condo in Lewiston a little over two years ago. When they'd first moved in, however, they'd discovered various satanic-looking symbols and inscriptions painted on the walls of the basement, as well as on the walls of some of the upstairs rooms...particularly the room which their son Clifford always kept padlocked, so they informed us. "Why does he keep it padlocked?" I asked.
    Lisa replied, "Well, Clifford feels that's where most of the evil spirits are in this house. And he's afraid that if we open up the room, they'll get out and do something terrible to us, probably kill us all."
    "From what I've been told, some rather frightening things have already been happening," I commented.
    Right after moving in, the family had painted over the santanic inscriptions on the upstairs and basement walls. It was shortly after this that they were informed by neighbors that a group of young guys, who were practicing members of a local satanic coven, had previously occupied their apartment, and that they'd been known to hold rituals there prior to being evicted. In fact, there was even a rumor that these cult members had robbed a grave of a French Canadian man from a local cemetery for ritualistic purposes, and then buried his remains underneath the basement!
    It was also shortly after moving in, that Leo, Marguerite and the rest of the family began being met with one seemingly inexplicable mishap after another...almost as if a dark cloud of misfortune were following them everywhere they went. To make matters even worse, over the past several months Marquerite herself would periodically go into spates of a trance-like state, where her normally gentle personality seemed to be completely taken over by some sort of malicious entity. Supposedly, this is the spirit of the French Canadian gentleman whose remains were rumored to be buried in their basement.
    "This is why we asked you guys to consult with us on this case," said Nancy. "Whenever this personality overtakes her, she certainly doesn't seem to be Marquerite. It really seems as though Marquerite temporarily leaves, and something completely alien to her takes over."
    Bill interjected, "Nan and I have both been here to witness it when it happens to Marguerite. In fact, the last time, I was holding Marguerite's hand, and all of a sudden she started squeezing my hand with a strength I couldn't believe. I cried out and was practically sinking down to the floor on my knees...and you know I'm not exactly what you'd call a small guy!"
    "And her eyes change, too; they get very dark and sinister looking," said Nancy. She then added, "Wait a minute, I just realized something. Marguerite, every time you're about to go under, you always take your glasses off. That's one sign that it's about to happen."
    "Do I?" asked Marguerite. "I don't really seem to remember much of anything afterwards, I just seem to sort of blank out. I guess I'm not really possessed though, like in 'The Exorcist', because I'm not like that all the time."
    "Well," I explained, "in most cases of actual possession, the afflicted individual is their normal self most of the time. The person usually only experiences temporary episodes of not being him or herself. Total possession is extremely rare; to my knowledge it almost never happens."
    "Really?" asked Marguerite. "Well, when it happens, I usually have to have other people tell me what I did. I know that one time my sister was over here visiting and I guess I scared her out of here. They say I suddenly looked up at her with this real mean-looking face, and I growled at her. She didn't want to stay around me too long after that, so she high-tailed it outta here!" Marguerite chuckled, and we all shared a momentary laugh.
    "And how often do these episodes happen to you, Marguerite?" I asked her.
    "Well, for awhile it was happening to me at least two or three time a week," she replied. "But, it hasn't happened for about two weeks now, so I don't think it's gonna happen tonight."
    "Now, to your knowledge has this place ever been blessed?" I asked.
    "Yes, a few months ago", said Marguerite. "We called in our local priest, and he did a general blessing of the house."
    "Did he bless every room in here?" I asked.
    "Well, I'm not sure," said Marguerite. She asked her husband Leo, who wasn't sure either. She then added, "I know he couldn't get into that upstairs bedroom, which Clifford keeps locked all the time."
    "Oh, I see," I said. "Well, is there anything you'd like to add?"
    "Yes", said Marguerite. "It was a few weeks ago now, in the middle of the night while Leo and I were upstairs in bed, when all of a sudden we heard this big boom, or banging Leo turned over, and in the doorway, was what looked like a man, standin' there lookin' at him! And that's when I fell out of the bed, and banged my head when I fell. I wasn't seriously injured, but it sure shook me up!"
    "What did this man you saw look like?" I asked Leo.
    "Well, it was in the dark, so I couldn't really get a good look at his face or anything, explained Leo. "But, from what I could see, he sorta' looked like an Indian fella. That's how I'd describe him."
    "Could you see if he was wearing buckskin?" I asked.
    "Yes, I think he was," said Leo. "And his face was very dark. He just stood there lookin' in on me for a few seconds, and then he was gone. And I had to make sure Marguerite was alright."
    Sandra asked, "Did you see him too, Marguerite?"
    "No, I didn't see him, just Leo did", she replied. "I was too busy falling out th' bed!"
    As our interview with the family concluded, I told them, "Now, I know that you've already had this house at least partially blessed...but Bill and Nancy have informed me that you'd like us to conduct a thorough blessing of your house. Is this still your desire?"
    "Yes," Marguerite replied without hesitation. "Another one certainly couldn't hurt."
    Leo replied affirmatively as well.
    "Before we commence, I want you to understand that I'm not a member of the clergy, nor do I claim to be, " I explained to them.
    "That doesn't matter, as long as you have faith," said Marguerite.
    "We really appreciate it," added Leo.
    "Good, I'll be glad to do it then," I said. Looking at my fellow investigators, I suggested, "Well, maybe we should start in the basement?"
    "Sounds good to me," Brian agreed.
    "How're you feeling, Bro'?" I asked him. "You sure you're up to this?"
    "Oh, yeah...I'm sure feeling better than I was earlier," he replied.
    Before we ventured downstairs, Marguerite briefly spoke to us about the beautiful, ornate statue of the Blessed Mother, encased in glass, which was displayed in her parlor. "It's temporarily on loan to us from the church," Maguerite explained.
    "I was noticing how beautiful it is," Sandra commented. "I mean, it looks almost alive."
    "Yeah doesn't it, though!", Nancy agreed.
    Brian also indicated a framed picture which hung on the wall, which we passed by on our way to the basement. "See that, Keith? It's Padre Pio."
    "Yes...he was quite a guy, very kind and loving to children," I said. "And a stigmatist, of course."
    "Of course," said Brian. "He also had the ability to bio-locate. Padre Pio truly was a saint."
    We then made our way downstairs as a group to the basement, with Marguerite, Leo and Lisa accompanying us. As Sandra was setting up the camcorder, Marguerite reminded us, "On the walls over there was where we found a lot of those symbols and strange writings, left over from those devil worshippers who lived here."
    "We'll begin with an 'Our Father'," I announced to all who were present. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."
    Throughout the prayers and supplications, Marguerite, who was standing over by the staircase with Leo and Lisa, devoutly held onto the Rosary beads which she'd brought with her.
    After the recitation of prayers and the reading of selected Psalms and various other Scriptures, Brian and I proceeded to anoint the basement with blessed water and blessed oil. At certain key points throughout this anointing, Sandra would catch orbs shooting about on video...mostly when either "Jesus" or "the Holy Spirit" were mentioned.
    Suddenly Marguerite began to react, becoming noticeably short of breath and stooping over. "Marguerite, what's wrong??" asked Nancy, naturally concerned for the older woman.
    "I...I don't think I can...stay down here for this any longer," Marguerite replied. "I...I think I better go upstairs now."
    "Is she going to be alright?" I asked. "Maybe we should discontinue."
    "No, I-I'll be alright," Marguerite answered. "I just have to go upstairs, and sit down for awhile...that's all." Maguerite was then assisted up the basement stairs by her husband and Lisa.
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    Old January 18th, 2006 (5:39 PM).
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    Zerro Zerro is offline
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      Realizing they would let me know if there was an actual emergency, I concluded the blessing of the basement, assisted by Brian and Sandra.
      Immediately after the blessing of the basement area was concluded, Sandra and I, along with Bill and his assistant, began comparing video evidence. "We were getting a multitude of orbs on digital and on video, too," said Bill. "We were getting them down here even before you guys arrived, but they really seemed to pick up while Keith was doing the blessing."
      With the family upstairs, Bill's assistant Harold, who also had extensive construction experience, took this opportunity to inspect the area of the basement floor where the remains of the French Canadian gentleman were rumored to be deposited. Shaking his head, Harold commented, "From what I can see, it just doesn't seem as though there'd be any way a body could be buried underneath here. There'd simply be more evidence of a recent disruption in the floor, plus the area's just not big enough."
      "I see," said Bill. "So, maybe it was just a rumor after all."
      Suddenly, Nancy's voice called down to us from upstairs: "Keith! Keith, get up here quick, we need you!!"
      Instantly I dashed upstairs, followed close behind by the others. "What is it?" I asked Nancy.
      "Marguerite's starting to go under!" she said. "I wanted you to see this."
      In the parlor Marguerite was seated in her favorite chair, her chin slumped upon her chest, screeching out something in French.
      Immediately I asked Sandra to recommence videotaping, as I quickly switched my small audio recorder back on.
      Nancy quickly reminded me, "Maguerite speaks almost entirely in French when this happens, which is her second language...although sometimes she uses some kind of garbled speech which we can't understand, that sounds like it could be Native American."
      Nancy then rushed over and knelt beside Maguerite's chair. Handing Marguerite her cherished Rosary beads, she began telling her, "Marguerite...'Hail Mary'...'Hail Mary'..."
      Uncharacteristically, Marguerite disdainfully flung the Rosary beads to the floor, as if the very touch of them was painful to her.
      As Nancy had earlier pointed out, Maguerite removed her eyeglasses when she'd begin going under. Observing her physiognomy, I noticed that Marquerite's narrowed eyes did indeed appear very black and serpentine, and that her head continually swayed back and forth as she spoke...a look which I myself had seen before.
      I glanced over at Sandra and caught her eye. She was still holding the camcorder- switching camera angles, as the situation became more intense. She was as always, the picture of calm. Still, I knew what she was thinking. This is as real as it gets.
      Taking a seat on the right side of Marguerite, her husband Leo began acting as translater for her.
      "What is your name?" asked Nancy.
      Maguerite continued screeching and shouting, until Leo deliberately asked her in French.
      "Edwaaaaard," Maguerite replied.
      "Edward who?" Nancy asked through Leo.
      "Pellitier," she said in a heavy French accent.
      In my own rudimentary high school French, I asked her age. In French, she replied "Eighty."
      "Why are you here?" asked Nancy. "What do you want, Edward? You need to speak English to us."
      Mageurite responded, and Leo translated: "She don't know how to say it in English."
      Hesitantly, as if with an effort, Marguerite said, "I-I...don't...know."
      She then began loudly spouting in French again. As she spoke, Maguerite's breathing became increasingly labored, and she began to salivate profusely over her mouth and down her chin.
      "Edward, did you live in Lewiston?" asked Nancy. "Are you from Lewiston?"
      She slowly shook her head no.
      "Where are you from?" Nancy asked again, and Leo translated.
      "Canada," Marguerite replied.
      "Where in Canada?"
      Marguerite slowly nodded, and began to cough.
      "Ask him if he's sick," I said.
      "Are you ill?'' asked Nancy.
      Catching her breath, Maguerite emphatically replied, "Yes! Oui!"
      "How did you get sick?" asked Nancy. "How did you get sick? What happened?"
      Maguerite made no reply, but simply continued to breath in a labored fashion.
      "What's wrong with you?" Nancy persisted.
      "Ask him if he's alive," I suggested.
      "Are you alive?" Nancy asked her.
      "No. No!" she replied. (She again began to cough, as if suffering from lung disorder.)
      "Why do you cough?" asked Nancy. "Why do you cough?"
      When Maguerite did not answer, I decided to begin subtly leading the questioning into another direction. "Ask if he's on the other side," I said.
      "Are you on the other side?" asked Nancy.
      Maguerite hesitated before replying in French.
      "She don't understand," said Leo.
      "Where is your body?" asked Nancy. "Where is your earthly body?"
      Marguerite motioned downward with her right hand, presumably indicating the basement.
      "Ask him if he sees other people there," I said.
      "Do you see others where you are?" asked Nancy. "Do you see other people?"
      Marguerite slowly nodded.
      "Yes? Who do you see?" asked Nancy. "Do you see your family?"
      Marguerite coughed, then replied in French.
      "She don't know that," Leo translated.
      I then intentionally began to lead the line of questioning into religious provocation. "Ask him if he sees angels."
      "Do you see angels?" (No reply.) "What do you see? Tell us, what do you see?"
      Marguerite shook her head, and again began to cough.
      "She don't know," said Leo.
      "Edward, you don't have this affliction any longer," said Nancy, as Marguerite continued to cough. "You don't need to cough."
      Addressing this personality directly, I asked. "Do you ever see Jesus?" (The coughing abruptly ceased.) "Is Jesus there with you on the other side?"
      "," Marguerite replied,
      "Who's there?" asked Nancy.
      Marguerite sighed, then replied in French, sounding increasingly distressed.
      "Leave her alone," Leo translated. "Leave me alone, leave me alone."
      Marguerite then began to loudly whimper, and writhe as if in pain.
      "Edward, you need to move on," said Nancy. "You're hurting Maguerite, why are you doing this? What do you want?" (No reply.)
      Now coming over to stand directly beside Nancy and Marguerite, I said, "Can you call upon the name of Jesus? Maybe Jesus will help you. Jesus shed His blood for the remission of sins." (Still no reply.) "We look to Jesus for the hope of the resurrection, and the life of the world to come. Jesus shed His blood for the remission of sins; the blood of Jesus, which was shed on Calvary. Jesus has the power to heal." (Marguerite gasps loudly, and again begins to writhe as if in pain, her teeth bared.) "Marguerite is a child of God. Marguerite is a child of Jesus."
      Marguerite then strangely seemed to be quietly struggling to the say the name of Jesus, but could not quite get the word out. "Je...Je..uh-uh...Jes...deh...desus."
      "How do you know Marguerite?" asked Nancy. "How do you know Marguerite? Where do you know her from?"
      "In the name of Jesus Christ, where do you know Marguerite from?" I asked.
      Without hesitation, Marguerite suddenly replied in a low, ominous tone: "I like her. I NEED her."
      "In the name of Jesus Christ," I asked, "are you human? Are you a human spirit?"
      "No," she softly replied. "No."
      "In the name of Jesus Christ, what kind of a spirit are you?" I asked.
      Marguerite then emitted a low, almost imperceptible laugh, seemingly more to herself than to us.
      "Tell us," I persisted.
      "THE DEVIL!!" she suddenly shrieked in a loud voice. "Deeeevil!"
      Nancy turned to look at us in shock.
      In a now husky and defiant tone, Marguerite began shouting at us in French, as her husband translated: "'Get the devil away from me! Get out of here!' That's what she's saying."
      I then said, "The word of God according to the Psalmist: 'Touch not my prophets, nor do my anointed ones harm.'"
      I turned to look at Brian. There was a hint of green to his pallor.
      He was obviously still feeling somewhat ill, for whatever reason and seemed, somehow disconnected from what was occurring around him.
      Jill remained seated beside him on the sofa. She looked from side to side, uncomfortably.
      This was one of her first investigations. She was unprepared for this.
      Sandra continued to videotape, holding the camcorder and shifting it's focus as the dialogue shifted from one person to the next.
      "Marguerite is a child of God, and you cannot remain in her," I said.
      Now enraged, she gave a deep-throated growl, followed by guttural gurgling sounds, while thrashing about in her chair.
      "You realize this?" More gurgling sounds.
      "In the name of Jesus how did you enter Marguerite?"
      Coughing, she shook her head from side to side.
      "In the name of Jesus Christ, answer," I commanded. "How did you enter?"
      Marguerite began to protest, loudly in French. Leo tried to translate but couldn't keep up with her.
      "In the name of Jesus, is your name really Edward?" No reply.
      Nancy looked up at me from her position on the floor next to Marguerite's chair, questioningly.
      "In the name of Jesus Christ, what is your name?" I tried again.
      More French.
      Leo translated, "She could give you all kinds of names."

      "In the name of Jesus Christ, what name do you choose to go by?" I asked.
      Although Marguerite did give some sort of a name, it was difficult to understand. At first she seemed to be saying "Mort" (meaning "Dead" in French). However, when I asked her to clarify, it sounded more to be a two syllable name...possibly "Morell". She then began making loud, pathetic weeping sounds.
      "You are suffering, aren't you?" I asked. "In the name of Jesus, why are you suffering?"
      She replied in French, and Leo translated "You won't leave her alone."
      "In the name of Jesus Christ, Marguerite is a child of God," I said. "In the name of Jesus, what do you want?"
      She then launched into a verbal assault directed at me, screeching furiously in a mix of English and French. Her cursings were intermingled with enraged, animalistic growls and gurgling noises: "OW!! Leave me alone!" (Then in French): "Go to the Devil! Get the devil away from me!! GRRRRRRRR!! AAAAAAARRRRRR!! YEEEEEEEEEEECCCHHH!!"
      Throughout this barrage, Nancy had continued to hold onto Marguerite's hand, in an effort to comfort her and maintain communication. At one point, however, Nancy's eyes suddenly widened and her mouth opened in pain, and Maguerite began tightening her hold on Nancy's hand in a vice-like grip.
      Fortunately, I was able to momentarily distract Maguerite and quickly pry her fingers off in a matter of seconds.
      Marguerite now began thrashing violently in her chair, growling and gnashing her teeth in frustration, as if somehow seemingly restrained by unseen bonds.
      Looking up at me with tears of concern in his eyes for his wife of so many years, Leo said quietly, "She's been through enough."
      "Yes," I agreed with him.
      My heart went out with compassion for this older couple...especially for Leo, having to see his beloved partner in life reduced to such a beastial level. Although I sensed that the entity may have been weakening its grip on Marguerite, there was simply no way, under the present circumstances, that I could submit her to anymore of this humiliation. Placing my right hand gently on her shoulder, I said, "In the name of Jesus Christ, you may go down now. In the name of Jesus Christ, go down, until you are called forth again. Maguerite, be at peace. Maguerite, be at peace."
      Maguerite's growling began tapering off as I spoke, replaced by a quiet whimpering. Her eyes closed, and with a sigh, her glistening chin slowly slumped down to her chest. When she again looked up and opened her eyes, they'd returned to their normal hazel hue.
      However, when Marguerite's own personality had fully returned to us, she was anything but at peace. Sobbing, she now once again held onto her cherished Rosary beads, which Nancy had handed back to her. "Mary," she said though her tears. "'Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee...'"
      Leo, Nancy and I all gathered around Marguerite in an effort to provide solace.
      "'Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.'"
      When Maguerite had finished her prayer, she held out her arms imploringly to the life-like statue of the Blessed Mother across the room, and called out though her tears: "Mary! I love you, Mary! I don't want to go with him, Mary! I don't want to go with that devil! Please, I don't want to go with him; I want to go with you!"
      "You don't have to go with him, Maguerite," I tried to reassure her. "I swear, you never will."
      " can make miracles," said Maguerite. "That's why they brought you here. Take him away, Mary, take him away! Help me, please, Mary. Give me a sign that he won't come back!"
      Over the next twenty minutes, Marguerite gradually regained her composure. There was some talk about her perhaps going to the nearest hospital because of the difficulty in breathing she'd experienced, although she and her family later decided this was unnecessary. During this time, her son Clifford also arrived home. He was a dark haired young man somewhere in his thirties, about average height, with a stocky build. When his girlfriend Lisa came over to join him, I introduced myself and the other TAPS investigators, and Harold of Maine Paranormal. (Clifford was, of course, already acquainted with Bill and Nancy.) We then briefed him in on what had just taken place during his absence.
      Clifford seemed pleased, even delighted to have us there. When we'd finished our brief explanation of what had occurred over the past few hours, he commented, "Yeah, I heard you guys from Rhode Island were coming tonight; I was hoping you'd still be here when I got back." Glancing around at us, he then asked, "So, which one of you is psychic?"
      Brian, Jill, Sandra and I all exchanged glances with each other, before Sandra replied, "Well, we're not really 'psychics' per se, if that's what you mean. We're basically just paranormal researchers."
      "Oh, really?" asked Clifford. "I was hoping that at least one of you would be psychic, so I could get your impression of what's down in the basement. There used to be some kind of witches or Satanists that lived here before we did, 'cause we found all of these strange writings and drawings on the basement walls when we first moved in."
      "Yes, so we've been informed," I said.
      "Are you sure you didn't get any impressions down there?" asked Clifford. "Because we had a psychic over here before, and he got this impression that there's the body of some French Canadian guy named Edward buried in the basement, and that he's at unrest because his grave was robbed."
      "And this is supposedly his spirit that takes over your mother's personality sometimes, correct?" I asked.
      "Yeah...and I guess you guys got to see it happen to her tonight, from what you've told me, right?" he asked. "I was beginning to think no one would believe us, an' that everyone would think we were crazy! I know Bill and Nancy have seen it happen before, too."
      "We certainly don't think you're crazy," I assured him. "As far as impressions go, I did get a very oppressive feeling while we were in the basement."
      "Oh yeah?" asked Clifford, with anticipation in his voice.
      "Yes, most definitely," I replied. "However, when I was questioning your mother while she was taken over by this personality, I used some religious provocation...and we found out that it might actually be an inhuman entity, which is masquerading as the spirit of someone named Edward."
      "Oh-really??" asked Clifford in astonishment.
      "From what she said, and the way that she reacted, we feel this may be a possibility," I told him. "But, what we'd like to do next tonight, is complete the blessing here. We've already done the basement. Is that alright with you?"
      "Yeah...sure, fine with me," he said. "I'd really appreciate that. Maybe I'd be able to get some sleep here at night for a change!"
      "Good," I said. "Now, I understand that there's a particular bedroom upstairs..."
      "Oh yeah," said Clifford, shooting an apprehensive glance at me. "All except that bedroom. I keep that room locked. I haven't even been in it myself since right after we moved in."
      "Why? What's in it?" asked Brian.
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      Old January 18th, 2006 (5:41 PM).
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      Zerro Zerro is offline
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        "Nothin'...nothin's in it," he quickly replied. "There's just...just somethin' evil in there. That's why I always keep it locked."
        "Yes, but that's why we're here, to try to alleviate that situation," I explained. "I'd really need access to that room as well, to complete the entire blessing of the house."
        "Clifford," Lisa interjected, "these people are here to help. They know what they're doing. Then you wouldn't have to worry about that room no more."
        "Trust me," said Brian, "you letting us into that room so Keith can bless it wouldn't do any harm. Just the opposite, in fact. It would expel whatever negativity is in there."
        The more we attempted to persuade him, however, the more emotionally agitated Clifford became...until it became apparent that he had a deep, personal psychological issue concerning that locked bedroom upstairs. "," he said, his voice beginning to tremble. "I-I can't...not now, not tonight. Maybe someday, but, I'm just not ready to take that chance yet."
        Seeing that we were not about to make any further progress in persuading Clifford, we decided to continue with the blessing of the rest of the family's residence. Before we set about this task, both Lisa and Leo insisted that we take a breather, and partake of more refreshments. During this time, Sandra informed me: "You know, while I was doing the video of you and Nancy with Marguerite, I noticed that there were occasionally some orbs shooting by. I don't think it was dust, because it seemed to be happening especially whenever you mentioned the name of Jesus Christ."
        "Really? That sounds as though it could be significant," I commented.
        After we'd completed a thorough blessing of the kitchen and the rest of the rooms, doors and windows in the downstairs area, all that remained was the staircase and the upstairs rooms...with the exception of the one bedroom which Clifford kept securely padlocked, of course.
        Lisa volunteered to lead us through the upstairs area. As Lisa, Sandra, Jill, Brian and I slowly ascended the stairs, I recited a prayer for protection, while Brian followed up by anointing the stairwell with blessed water. Then, in each of the open rooms in the upstairs area, I recited the Lord's Prayer, followed by a reading of Psalm 23, as well as various prayers and petitions for our protection, as well as for the family living there. Brian followed by spraying blessed water in each corner of the room, while I anointed the doors and windows with blessed oil.
        We then came to the padlocked bedroom door. After briefly examining the lock, Brian commented, "Well, there's obviously no way we're getting in there tonight."
        "You're right," I agreed with him. "I suppose the best we can do is anoint the door itself."
        Leaning close and cautiously whispering to us, Lisa said, "Clifford doesn't want anyone even touching the door. But, if he doesn't know..."
        "What he doesn't know, won't hurt him," I said.
        Brian suggested, "Maybe we can spray some holy water underneath the crack at the bottom of the door. That will at least get some in there."
        "This is true," I said. While Sandra videotaped, I again led everyone in the Lord's Prayer...then followed by anointing the padlocked door with blessed oil in the form of a cross.
        "Holy cow!" said Sandra, as she continued to videotape. "When you just did that, I could see two large orbs shoot out from underneath the door."
        Brian then proceeded to spray a generous amount of holy water underneath the padlocked door...the premise being that hopefully, enough of the positive vibrations would permeate into the room to counteract whatever negativity the room harbored. (Privately, I could not help but wonder what Clifford's reaction would be, when he noticed the cross-shaped smear from the anointing oil which I'd left on the locked bedroom door!)
        When we returned back downstairs, I announced to the family that the blessing of their residence was now complete. "Thank you so much," said Maguerite. "Somehow, it does feel more peaceful in here."
        "Yes, thank you," said Leo. "We appreciate everything you've done for us."
        Clifford asked, "So, are the spirits gone now? I remember the psychic we had here said there are at least two other spirits here, besides the one named Edward."
        "I wouldn't say they're completely gone, but that they've been rendered inactive for the time being," I explained. "But I've also attempted to introduce positive vibrations into the rooms of this house to counteract the negative, through prayer and by anointing the rooms with blessed water and blessed oil. I've also said special prayer outside of the locked bedroom, that the Holy Spirit will enter and keep everyone safe from harm."
        Sandra added, "Through your faith and by maintaining a positive attitude, I believe you'll be able to keep whatever negative spirits that may be here at bay. We've also prayed for angelic protection over everyone who lives here."
        "God bless you for that," said Marguerite. Clifford also appeared to be at least somewhat relieved.
        As we were conferring with the members of Maine Paranormal over our findings and theirs, Bill told us, "I think there's something you may want to see. This digital snapshot was taken by me while you guys were in there blessing the kitchen area. Take a look at this large aquamarine colored orb which appeared on the back of Sandra's neck."
        Sure enough, there in the digital snapshot of Sandra and myself, with Sandra's back inclined toward the camera, was a large bluish-green cylindrical shape on the nape of her neck.
        Sandra gasped, "I don't like the look of that."
        "Did you feel anything at the time, like maybe a tingling sensation on the back of your neck?" I asked.
        "No, not at all," she replied.
        Bill added, "It looks as though it's riding piggy-back on her!"
        "It sure does," I agreed. I then explained the possible significance, "The nape of the neck is sometimes considered to be an entry point for demonic spirits. But there is no cause for alarm; since Sandra didn't feel anything at the time, it obviously didn't enter. It seems more to have been probing her for weakness it didn't find. Wasn't this soon after Marguerite had come out of her state of possession?"
        "You're right, it was right afterwards!" Sandra recollected.
        "I've been in situations where the demonic was involved, where a demonic possession was involved, where the spirit was systematically probing other individuals in the room at this exact spot...including Carl. They actually felt a tingling sensation but it wasn't able enter. To be on the safe side, I thing I'd better anoint you with some oil."
        "Yes, I'd very much appreciate that," said Sandra.
        I anointed the back of Sandra's neck with oil and recited a brief prayer of protection for her.
        She met my gaze and smiled, "Thank you, I do feel safer now."
        Once again, the family expressed their heartfelt gratitude to us. Bill and Nancy of Maine Paranormal also thanked us for driving the distance to Lewiston on this icy, early January night to confer with them on their investigation.
        "If there are any updates in the situation," Bill told us, "we'll be sure to get in touch with you and let you know. Thanks again for everything, guys!"
        Before leaving, I took the precaution of performing a general blessing upon everyone involved.
        During the return trip to Rhode Island, Sandra offered to take the first shift driving Brian's car (also affectionately dubbed the "Bro'-mobile"), while Brian himself passed out in the back seat next to Jill.
        "Thank you again for anointing the back of my neck with the blessed oil," Sandra told me. "it's somewhat disturbing to think something may have been searching for weakness in one of the two known points of entry for the demonic. Glad it didn't find any."
        She turned around to look at Brian and smiled, "So, what's our next case, Bro'?"
        In the back seat Brian grunted and shifted position so that his head was in Jill's lap but didn't answer.
        Jill looked at him and rolled her eyes, "So what will happen to the family, now?"
        Knowing this was all somewhat new territory for her, I tried to explain, "What I attempted to do, in this case, was to move the existing negativity into a dormant state. In other words, I put it down- I did not drive it out. It's the best we could do with the limited time we had. I have a feeling we will be returning to Lewiston."

        PART 2

        It was on a seasonably hot and humid August afternoon in 2004, as Case Manager Brian Harnois welcomed my brother Carl and I into TAPS Headquarters. Present also was Grant Wilson, Co-Founder of Taps. “Heeeey, guys!” Brian greeted us with a hearty handshake. “Right on time!”
        Grant also enthusiastically welcomed our arrival. “Carl! Keith! Great to see you again, guys!” he said, warmly shaking our hands.
        Brian then informed us, “Jason should be joining us in just a few minutes; he had to spend some time with his family. I know Grant’s already seen the footage from the Lewiston case. Now all that remains is to pitch it to Jason himself. Hopefully, he’ll be responsive to the idea of us making a return visit there to tie up ‘loose ends’.”
        Within the next fifteen minutes Jason did arrive, and greeted us all with his accustomed easy-going familiarity, as if we were family members rather than merely close friends and associates. After the initial pleasantries, it was time to get down to the business at hand. “So, what’s the scoop here, guys?” asked Jason.
        Enthusiastically, Brian H. began the “pitch”. “As you and Grant know, Jason, the Roy family up in Lewiston, Maine, have recently been in touch with me, asking that we make a return visit to their home. So, just a few days ago, both Carl and I took a drive up there, and spoke with Marguerite in person. All things considered she seemed to be doing well, and she was really glad to see us.”
        “What specifically do you mean by ‘all things considered’?” Jason wanted to know.
        “Well, since Keith and Sandra and Jill and I were up there back in January, she says she hasn’t been experiencing any outright spates of ‘possession’…meaning that her personality hasn’t been taken over. However, she feels that some negative spirit is still inside of her, like she’s not entirely alone, so to speak. Plus, the family is still experiencing some activity in their apartment.”
        “Such as?” asked Grant.
        “Such as disembodied footsteps in the upstairs area and on the staircase now and then, the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, especially in the basement, along with personal items disappearing,” Brian explained.
        “There’s also something else,” Carl added. “A couple of months ago, one of Marguerite’s two sons unfortunately was fatally shot. He was only in his late twenties.”
        “Geeze…I’m sorry to hear that,” said Jason.
        “There’s more, “ said Carl. “Just a little over week ago, Marguerite claims to have seen the apparition of her recently deceased son standing on the staircase. She told us he didn’t say anything…but simply stared at her for a moment, and then vanished.”
        “Really?” asked Jason, cocking an eyebrow.
        Grant then said, “Wait a minute…this isn’t the son which you guys met when you were up there, is it? The one who kept the bedroom padlocked upstairs?”
        “No, not Clifford,” Carl replied. “This was his younger brother. Clifford wasn’t there when we visited Marguerite earlier this week.”
        “But does he still keep that bedroom padlocked upstairs?” asked Grant.
        “Oh, yeah,” said Brian. “And he’s still just as paranoid about it. According to Marguerite, Clifford won’t let anyone in the house even go near that bedroom door!"
        “I see,” Grant acknowledged. He then suggested, “Well maybe now would be a good time to view the video of Marguerite. I’ve already seen it once, but I guess Jason’s the only one here who hasn’t.”
        “You got it,” said Brian, popping the videotape of the footage, which Sandra had taken back in January, into the VCR. “Now, I’m afraid we’ll have to temporarily shut off the AC, so we can hear the sound properly.”
        “Oh, brother,” Jason commented. “You know how quickly this enclosure heats up without the AC, especially on a day like this.”
        “It’ll only be for just a few minutes, trust me,” Brian assured him. He then quickly reached over and switched off the AC, thereby eliminating the background hum.
        “Alright,” said Jason, with a shrug of resignation. “It’s just hard for me to put up with this humidity which we’ve been experiencing lately. It just won’t seem to let up.”
        Teasingly, I told Jason, “It’s your fault, for having that Germanic blood.”
        “Tell me about it,” Jason agreed, already wiping a hand across his brow.
        As the tape began to play, Jason patiently folded his hands together and leaned his forearms on the table while viewing the TV screen. “Check this out, Dude!” said Brian, as the image of Marguerite seated in her large easy chair came on. “I know it’s hard to see it on the small screen here…but this woman’s eye’s just blacked out completely! Not only that, but she was salivating down over her chin the whole time.”
        On the screen, as Marguerite’s head swiveled back and forth in a serpentine manner, she began to cough and sputter. Nancy Washell of Maine Paranormal, who knelt beside her, said, “Edward, you don’t have this affliction any longer; you don’t need to cough.”
        Marguerite (speaking in the guise of Canadian Frenchman while her husband Leo translated for her) became increasingly defensive and perturbed, as I deliberately steered the conversation in a religious vein. Eventually I asked outright: “In the name of Jesus, are you a human spirit?”
        “No,” she quietly replied. “No.”
        “In the name of Jesus, what kind of spirit are you?” I asked. “Tell us.”
        “The DEVIL!!” she suddenly shrieked defiantly. “Deeevil!”
        As Marguerite’s manner became increasingly hostile and aggressive, I took the precaution of quoting Scripture. “The word of God according to the Psalmist: ‘Touch not my prophets, nor do my anointed ones harm.’”
        Marguerite began to thrash about violently in her chair, growling, sobbing, and cursing in French, then shouted in English, “Leave me alone!!”
        “So you are not ‘Edward’. You are a spirit of Perdition,” I said. “Release this child of God from pain!”
        Marguerite then became still and took on a more deliberate tone of speech, spouting ominous-sounding epitaphs in French with a low, husky voice. (At no point during the entire ordeal, however, did she make eye contact with me.)
        Finally, Leo glanced up at me with an imploring expression in his eyes, and quietly told me, “She’s been through enough.”
        After nodding in agreement, I gently placed a hand on Marguerite’s left shoulder, and said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you may go down now. Marguerite, be at peace.”
        It took three times of my repeating this before Marguerite’s eyes closed, her head slumped down, and her normal personality began to reemerge. When she did come to, Marguerite broke down and wept, praying to the Blessed Mother through her tears to take “this devil” from inside of her…as Leo and Nancy and I gathered around her, attempting to offer comfort to the older woman.
        “Well, that’s it,” said Brian, nimbly shutting off the VCR and switching the AC back on, almost in a single move. “We concluded that night with Keith doing a thorough blessing of the entire apartment…except for the locked bedroom upstairs, of course. All he could do there was anoint the outside of the door.”
        In the short time we’d been viewing the video footage, the inner section of our enclosure had already become rather stifling. “Awww, man, that AC sure feels good!” said Grant, stretching.
        Glancing over at Jason, I observed that his entire face was now beaded with perspiration. “Well,” he announced, “let’s break out some refreshment, before going over the rest of our findings.”
        After bottles of water and fruit juice had been passed around, the five of us reviewed the EVP I’d captured on audio tape while in the basement. Basically it was undecipherable, although it definitely sounded like a male voice briefly whispering some sort of chant. There was also the photo taken by Bill Washell of my wife Sandra, with the aquamarine colored orb seemingly “riding piggy back,” as he’d put it, on the nape of her neck. After each of us had closely examined the enlarged print of the photo, we still had to admit that it was inconclusive.
        Adopting a matter-of-fact attitude, Jason then addressed Brian: “Well, now that we’ve reviewed the particulars of the case, I understand that the Roy family has requested that we conduct a follow-up investigation at their home, at our earliest convenience. Is this correct?”
        “That is correct,” Brian confirmed. “What they’re asking is that we not only document the activity, but that if at all possible, we rid them and their apartment of the activity they’ve been experiencing altogether. Also, I explained to them what our upcoming TV show is all about, gave them the possible option of having this investigation filmed, and they’re very open to the idea of this being included as an episode of ‘Ghost Hunters’.”
        “Well, “ said Jason, “this being a very sensitive subject, I’d certainly have to present this to Production, and discuss it with them. Naturally, the family involved would have to understand that we’d be going into this situation with the mindset of attempting to disprove the activity they claim to have been experiencing. You think they’d be okay with that?”
        “Oh yeah, they seemed very receptive to us conducting the investigation in whatever way we want to handle it,” said Brian. He then added, “Oh…and there’s one more thing. Marguerite would like Keith to do another session with her, and if at all possible, to hopefully rid her of this entity once and for all.”
        “Yes,” Carl also confirmed, “while we were there the other day, Marguerite specifically asked if Keith could conduct a deliverance session for her, when we come for our follow-up investigation.
        Grant asked, “What, you mean she’s requesting that Keith perform an exorcism for her?”
        “You got it,” said Brian.
        Turning to me, Jason asked, “What’s your opinion of this, Keith? Based on your experience there, and having spent some time personally dealing with Marguerite’s situation first hand, do you feel this warrants a deliverance session?”
        “Well…let’s put it this way,” I said. “At this point, I feel it would help Marguerite more than cause her harm…even if I were to just do a prayer session with her. It might help put the rest of her family more at ease as well.”
        Now fixing me with his gaze, Jason said markedly, “Next question: Do you personally feel that you’re up to this?”
        “Yes…God willing,” I replied.
        With just the trace of a smile, Jason reached over and firmly squeezed my wrist reassuringly.
        Grant then said, “There’s just one other thing we have to discuss, before we decide exactly how we’re going to handle this. What about the bedroom door which Marguerite’s son Clifford keeps locked? Because if we’re going to conduct a proper investigation, as well as have Keith do a complete blessing before we leave, we simple HAVE to gain access to that room.”
        “Agreed,” said Jason. Glancing over to Brian and Carl, he asked, “What do you guys think? Is there any possibility of convincing her son Clifford that we definitely must be allowed entrance into this room, if we’re going to effectively deal with this situation? Based upon what you’ve told me, this guy’s probably convinced himself that he’s keeping Satan himself locked away up in that bedroom.”
        (Briefly, I was reminded of the plot of an old “Twilight Zone” episode.)
        It was Carl who spoke up: “Obviously, Clifford has some deep psychological issues, and his mother is reluctant-perhaps even scared-to go against his wishes about not opening the door. As it is, Clifford doesn’t want anyone even so much as touching it. But, I also think that there’s a good possibility of getting through to him, especially if we can convince Clifford that it will put an end to the evil lurking in that house once and for all. We might even enlist his girlfriend Lisa to try and coerce him, since it’s ultimately for his own good.”
        “Alright, then,” said Jason. “If everyone’s agreed, and if there are no further questions…let’s get things started.”
        That weekend, Jason and Grant, Carl and myself, Brian Harnois, Steve Gonsalves and Andy Andrews, along with several production members of Pilgrim Films, set out for the vicinity of Lewiston, Maine. There were actually two “possible possession” cases to be documented and filmed as segments that weekend, the first being on the way to Lewiston…and both cases required the participation of my brother Carl and myself.
        Several days before, I had spoken at length over the telephone with our first client, who’d contacted us complaining of spiritual problems which were seriously affecting her ability to function normally in everyday life. The very next day both Carl and Brian had arrived at her house during their day trip to Maine (prior to their visit with Marguerite), and had conducted a lengthy preliminary interview with her. She was a slim, attractive woman in her early forties who’d been divorced a number of years. Although she lived alone, she kept in touch regularly with her teenage and young adult children, who often came there for extended visits. For the past five or so years this woman had been troubled by predominately male voices in her head. Recently, these male voices had assumed a harsh quality and increased the frequency of communication with her, to the point where it was now almost constant. As a result, this woman had become convinced that she was now under “possession’ by these intrusive entities. She’d also willingly agreed to the idea of having a film crew present during our upcoming investigation.
        When we arrived that weekend she cordially welcomed us into her home. After the film crew had set up their equipment in her parlor, Carl an Grant conducted an official interview…after which I joined them, and asked the woman a series of questions related to the supposition that her psyche was being invaded and partially manipulated by spirits. At the conclusion of my own interview with her, I recited certain select Scripture passages, and then asked her to please join with me in prayer, which she did.
        Suffice it to say, we found no overt or convincing evidence to indicate she was experiencing actual episodes of possession, demonic or otherwise. She seemed painfully sincere, and I believe she may have truly been experiencing these intrusive male voices, which lately had been practically denying her a moment of peace. However, she reported having experienced no loss of self, or episodes of time unaccounted for. There was no reaction at all to religious inference. She may indeed have been undergoing some level of spiritual oppression, for which I did pray with her. Then again, she may also have been suffering from some sort of mental illness. We explored a number of possibilities with her, off camera and confidentially, which of course I cannot divulge. At any rate, our function as paranormal investigators in any given situation is to look for possible evidence of paranormal activity, and to honestly and objectively evaluate our findings, or lack thereof. After subsequently evaluating our data, in this case we came up negative.
        However, this of course does not mean we simply abandoned our client. Rather, both Grant and Carl spent a good amount of time personally reassuring her that no matter what she may be experiencing, we were still only a phone call away, day or night. Grant also offered that if she wished, he could personally put her in touch with a support group through which she could communicate with individuals who had, and in some instances were still experiencing, similar phenomena to that which she was experiencing. As Grant explained, these would be individuals who, along with offering compassion and understanding, could also point her in the right direction, for a possible solution to her problem.
        It was then time for us to set out for our next destination.
        Arriving at Pine Hills in Lewiston, we were greeted by Marguerite’s son Clifford, who was attired casually in a checkered shirt, hunting cap and faded jeans, and his girlfriend Lisa. “Hi, guys” he said, shaking hands with Carl and myself. “Thanks for coming all this way.”
        “Yes, it’s really nice to see you again!” added Lisa, who was also attired casually, yet neatly.
        Leo, dressed in his customary rumpled white shirt, suspenders and black trousers, was also delighted to see us. As I made introductions, Leo, Clifford and Lisa explained to us that although Marguerite had not been feeling well earlier that day, she said that she was feeling much better now, and was certainly anticipating our visit. When Marguerite did slowly enter the parlor to greet and welcome us, she was wearing a violet colored housecoat over a nightgown, and slippers. “Thank you so much for coming,” she told me. “Now…you’re not the one who was here several days ago?”
        “No, that was my brother Carl over here,” I said. “He was here with Brian.”
        “My goodness, you and your brother do look alike,” she said with a chuckle. “So you’re the one who was here back in January.”
        “Yes, that’s right,” I said.
        “Now that I see you both together, I can see the difference. Your hair’s a shade lighter than Carl’s,” said Marguerite.
        Lisa then asked me, “But where’s your wife, Sondra?”
        “Sandra? I’m afraid she was unable to make it this time,” I explained, feeling a pang of separation. “Anyway, Marguerite, I’d like to introduce Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson, the Founder and Co-founder of TAPS, respectively.”
        “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marguerite,” said Jason.
        “Yes, it’s indeed a pleasure, Marguerite”, said Grant, adding, “Keith has certainly told us a lot about you, and we’ve been looking forward to finally meeting you in person.”
        “Ah, you’ll have to excuse the housecoat,” she apologized. “I’m afraid I’m not properly dressed to be meeting you people, but I’m sure my family’s told you, I wasn’t feeling well earlier.”
        “That’s quite alright,” Jason assured her. “I just hope you’re feeling up to our visit today.”
        “Oh, I’ll be okay,” Marguerite said with a slight wave of dismissal. “Besides, I’ve been looking forward to your visit. I guess now I’d better go upstairs and make myself look presentable.”
        “Marguerite, are you sure you’re feeling up to this today?” I asked her.
        “Oh, yes…just give me a few minutes, and I’ll be back down stairs,” she replied. Marguerite then shuffled over to the staircase, and began slowly ascending the stairs while holding onto the railing for support. Lisa rushed over and asked Marguerite is she needed assistance, but she assured Lisa she’d be fine.
        By the time the production crew had set up most of their equipment, Marguerite came back downstairs, now looking freshened with her hair done nicely, and wearing an attractive flowered dress. “You look very nice, Marguerite,” I complimented her.
        “Yes, you do,” Brian agreed.
        “Oh, thank you,” she told us. “I wanted to look at least halfway presentable. Sorry I wasn’t fixed up when you first arrived.”
        “Oh, by the way, Marguerite, this is Andy Andrews,” I said, introducing him.
        “Hi, Andy,” she said, shaking his hand. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
        “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Marguerite; I’ve heard so much about you,” said Andy.
        After we’d introduced the members of the production crew to Marguerite, we of course expressed our sincere sympathies to both her and Leo, on the loss of youngest son. They both thanked us very much for our concern, explaining that an unknown assailant was responsible, although the local police might have some leads. Marguerite added, “I suppose you’ve been told, that the appeared to me recently, standing there on the stairs.”
        “Yes, Carl and Brian informed us,” I said gently. “Exactly how long ago was this?”
        “I’d say about two weeks ago now,” she replied.
        “Perhaps this was what’s sometimes what’s referred to as a ‘crises apparition’,” I suggested.
        “Now, when you saw him, Marguerite, did he say anything to you, or attempt to communicate in anyway?” Andy wanted to know.
        “No…no, he didn’t say anything at all,” said Marguerite. “He just stood there looking at me for a moment, and then he was gone.”
        “Residual, maybe?” asked Brian.
        “Maybe not…especially if he was intentionally making eye contact with her,” I said. “This suggests that he was probably aware of her presence.”
        “Good point,” Brian agreed.
        Meanwhile, somehow, neighbors from an apartment across the parking lot had received word that the “Ghost Busters” had arrived…and they themselves were also desperately in need of some assistance. Having managed to momentarily catch Steve Gonsalves’ attention while he was outside in the rain unloading equipment, a young woman had waved him over, calling out, “Hey! We need help over here!”
        After quickly alerting Jason and Grant to the situation, Steve, along with Brian, responded to the cry for assistance. Upon returning several minutes later, Steve informed us that it had turned out to be nothing more than a ruse apparently intended to lure him into the apartment. “There was a woman sprawled on the sofa, obviously completely stoned out of her mind”, Steve explained. “She could hardly even hold her head up, let alone talk straight. And she and some girl, who I assume was her teenage daughter, were telling me to come inside and help them out, because they had ghosts. They said their neighbor from the next apartment over had told them that a group of ‘ghost busters’ were here!”

        With the cameras, sound and lighting equipment now in place, we were ready to commence the initial interview with Marguerite. Jason and Grant proved very adept at putting the older woman at ease, as she sat comfortable in her favorite chair and related the chain of bizarre events, which she and her family had experienced since moving into their present location. “I know that the rest of my family has still been experiencing things in this apartment,” Marguerite told them. “We always get an uncomfortable feeling down in the cellar. Of course, Leo and I don’t go down there much anymore, especially since it’s so difficult for us to make it up and down those cellar stairs. But one time we had a psychic over here, whose name was Vickie, to see if she could pick up on anything…and this psychic told my son Clifford that there’s a man whose body is buried down in the cellar. And I suppose if it’s true, that could be one of the spirits here”
        When it came to the rather sensitive subject of Marguerite’s episodes of suspected demonic possession, both Jason and Grant approached this topic with tact and courtesy. After she’d related the basic details to them, Grant asked, “And when this happens to you, how much of it do you actually recall, once you’ve come out of it?”
        “Well, not much of it. Most of it’s hazy, and some of it I don’t really remember at all. I have to rely on other people to tell me afterwards everything I said and did. I’ve been told that my eyes become real dark, and mean looking,” she explained.
        “When was the last time you experienced one of these episodes, Marguerite?” asked Jason.
        “Well, it hasn’t happened in quite awhile now,” said Marguerite. “But, I don’t feel that it’s completely left. I still get the feeling sometimes that I’m not alone, and that it’s still with me…inside of me sometimes.”
        Grant then asked respectfully, “Marguerite, would you mind sharing with us about the recent sighting which you experienced on the staircase?”
        Marguerite replied, “Well, it was one night just about a couple of weeks ago, I was coming around the corner intending to go upstairs, when all of a sudden, I saw my recently deceased son, standing right there on the stairs in front of me. He didn’t say anything, but just stood there looking right at me…and then was gone.”
        “Did you attempt to communicate with him at all?” asked Grant.
        “No…I was just too shocked, it all happened so fast,” said Marguerite. “One moment he was there, and the next, he wasn’t.”
        Jason asked, “Did he look like he did in life?”
        “Yes, exactly…except he didn’t have any facial expression, just a blank stare,” she replied.
        Gently, Grant asked her, “Do you feel as though he was trying to tell you something?”
        “Well…I don’t know,” Marguerite said with a sigh. “He died so suddenly…maybe he’s still here, or…maybe he just came back, to say good bye.”
        “Thank you, Marguerite,” said Grant. “Now, in conclusion, I’d like to ask…what would you personally like to see accomplished from our visit here today?”
        Reflectively, Marguerite replied, “Well…for one thing, I guess I hope you find some proof that these things are really going on here, and that we’re not all nuts.” (They all shared a laugh.) “And, I hope that whatever spirits are here can finally be put to rest…and that if there is a spirit inside of me, it can be gotten rid of once and for all.”
        “Well,” said Jason with his reassuring smile, “that’s what we have Keith here with us for.”
        “Oh, yes…I like Keith, very much,” said Marguerite.

        Next on the agenda would be a tour of the house itself, which Lisa would lead us on…starting with the basement. As the members of the production crew were repositioning their equipment, Marguerite asked me, “By the way, Keith, where is the other member of your team that was here before, uh, Sandra? She isn’t with you this time?” Leo wanted to know as well.
        “Unfortunately, she couldn’t make it this time,” I replied. “I really miss her being by my side.”
        “Oh, that’s a shame; she’s your wife isn’t she?” asked Marguerite.
        “Yes”, I replied.
        Leo added, “You just make sure you come up to visit us again, and that you bring her with ya!”
        “I certainly will, Leo,” I assured the kindly older gentleman with a smile.
        Downstairs in the basement, the atmosphere did feel rather thick and oppressive, although I’m certain that the added humidity was at least partly responsible. After making a methodical sweep throughout the basement with a digital thermometer, Steve announced, “The temperature down here seems to be holding steady, at seventy-four degrees…except over here near the stairs, where it goes down to seventy-two.”
        When Brian and I pointed out the small section of the basement floor, where the visiting psychic had claimed to sense the presence of human remains, I explained to everyone else, “A member of Maine Paranormal who has experience in laying foundations examined this area. And he claimed that it’s extremely doubtful, if not impossible, that a complete body could be buried underneath here. If there is anything, it would have to be partial remains.”
        Brian held his Gauss meter over the area, which indicated only a slight energy spike. “Could even be a minor electrical current under here, although nothing to write home about,” he concluded.
        Next, Lisa led us to the upstairs area where the bedrooms were, including the room which Clifford kept securely locked. Turning to Jason and Grant, Brian announced, “So, guys…this is the infamous locked bedroom door.”
        “That it is,” Jason agreed, examining the padlock.
        Huddling closer to us, Lisa whispered, “Clifford would have a bird, if he knew we were even up here touching the lock.”
        In a lowered voice, Jason asked her, “And am I given to understand, that’s he’s had this door locked ever since he and his family first moved in here?”
        “Yes, almost right after they first moved in, I’d say in the first week,” Lisa confirmed in her hushed tone.
        “Lisa’s right about Clifford,” said Carl. “He’s completely obsessed, and adamant about keeping this room securely locked at all times, for fear of what’s inside.”
        “A proverbial ‘Pandora’s Box’,” I added.
        “Well, what IS inside?” asked Grant.
        “Supposedly, just some junk,” I said. “Nothing more, according to Clifford.”
        Nervously, Lisa began urging us on, saying, “We better not stay up here too long, or Cliff might start gettin’ suspicious.”
        Ignoring her, Brian swept his Gauss meter along the crack underneath the door. “I’m definitely getting some spikes from underneath here, Dude!” he commented to Jason.
        “Yeah, but that could be anything,” said Jason. “I mean, we can’t even get inside the room to investigate.”
        Grant agreed. “And what’s more,” he said, “we definitely need access to that room, for Keith to properly conduct a thorough blessing.”
        “Well…all I can say is, we’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Jason. We then moved away from the padlocked door and continued on our tour of the upstairs area, causing Lisa to breathe a temporary sigh of relief.
        Back downstairs, it was almost time for me to begin the deliverance session with Marguerite. Earlier, Andy and two members of the production crew had asked me if I could explain why Marguerite’s eyes had appeared to “black out” when she’d been under apparent possession. “When a person is in a full state of possession,” I told them, “the eyes will often be wide and staring, with what could be described as a wild, unearthly look of hatred. However, there are also times where the afflicted individual’s eyelids with be narrowed, and the eyes themselves will assume a darkened, almost serpentine appearance, which was apparently the case with Marguerite while she was under. At other times, the person’s eyes will simply roll upward until only the whites of the sclera are visible…or, the eyes will roll around wildly, as if in spasm. Grant has also witnessed this in the eyes of the possessed. Now, the reason for this is that the possessing entity is desperately attempting to avoid eye contact. If someone is conducting any sort of deliverance over a possessed individual, direct eye contact seems to lend greater control to the person performing the deliverance.”

        Glancing up from my open Bible, which rested on the kitchen table in front of me, I saw both Jason and Grant approaching. “Well…you ready for this, Buddy?” Jason asked me. “Everything’s all set up in there.”
        “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, rising from my seat.
        “I know you can do this,” said Jason, reassuringly placing a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I have total confidence in you.”
        Placing a hand on my other shoulder, Grant said, “We’ll both be right there in the room with you, my friend.”
        “Thank you, guys,” I told them with a smile. “That means a lot to me…and I’m glad you’ll both be there. I appreciate your support.”
        We were now ready to begin. With Marguerite once again seated comfortably in her cushioned parlor chair, I was positioned in one of the smaller parlor chairs beside her, allowing me to face her. Leo was seated in the background, in case he was needed to translate for Marguerite like the last time.
        After checking with Dave who was manning the camera, sound technician Frank announced, “We’re good to go.”
        “Whenever you’re ready, Keith,” said Jason.
        “Alright, Marguerite,” I began, “I understand you haven’t had an episode of being completely taken over for awhile now, is that correct?”
        “That’s right, I haven’t. Not completely, the way it used to happen,” she replied.
        “But, you personally feel as though it’s still with you, oppressing you?”
        “Yes, I definitely feel that it’s still with me. I don’t know if it’s just been laying low for awhile, or what.”
        “And you’d like me to help you to rid yourself of it, and stop it from further oppressing you?”
        “Yes, if possible, I’d like you to.”
        “Very well, Marguerite. Then if you would, please join with me in prayer. Let’s begin with an ‘Our Father’.” Noticing that she was holding her cherished Rosary beads in her right hand, I gently took hold of her free hand, and began reciting the Lord’s Prayer. Marguerite closed her eyes, bowed her head, and prayed along with me.
        At the conclusion of this prayer, Marguerite looked back up at me, with her accustomed peaceful expression. “Now, Marguerite, I’d like to read some Scripture, from the New Testament,” I said, turning in my Bible to the Book of Hebrews, Chapter 9.
        After reading verses eleven through fourteen, I asked her, “How are you feeling?”
        “Alright,” she said quietly. (Although there was a somewhat distant look to her eyes, no dramatic change was apparent. Also, one indication that she was about to go under was that she’d remove her glasses. But since she was not now wearing her glasses, I could not use this as a warning sign.)
        “Now, Marguerite, I’d like to pray over you.” Placing my right hand lightly on her shoulder, I began an invocation. “In the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, whose blood was shed for us at Calvary for the remission of our sins, we ask that if there be any unholy spirit inside of Marguerite, it reveal its presence to us now. In the name of Jesus, we ask that, without harming Marguerite or anyone else in this room, this invading spirit give us a sign of its presence. Amen.”
        Still, Marguerite displayed no overt reaction. Deciding that this might be a good time to attempt a direct confrontation with the entity, I said, “Marguerite…I’d now like for you to maintain eye contact with me. I’m going to try to bring the spirit forward now. Do you understand?”
        “Yes…I understand,” she replied almost dreamily.
        “Good,” I said. As a precaution, I first quoted the Psalmist: “‘Touch not my prophets, nor do my anointed ones harm.’” Gazing intently into her eyes, I then said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I am now addressing the unclean spirit inside of Marguerite. Come forward, now. By the authority of the shed blood of Jesus Christ, come up…come up to the surface, and reveal yourself.”
        For a moment, Marguerite’s gaze slowly began to drift away from me. “Please continue to look at me,” I said. (She did as instructed, her eyes now appearing vague and slightly clouded.) “In the name of Jesus Christ, let that which is unholy, and not a part of Marguerite, come forth.” (A pause.) “Come forth out of hiding now, and reveal yourself to us.”
        Almost imperceptibly, Marguerite’s eyes began to narrow, and her upper lip curled into a slight sneer. Sensing that I was now making progress, I continued: “In the name of Jesus, are you the spirit who has been oppressing Marguerite, and invading her body?”
        When Marguerite did not reply, I asked again, “In the name of Jesus Christ…are you the unclean spirit who has been oppressing Marguerite, and taking over her personality?”
        “Yeeeees…yeeeees,” she answered.
        “What is your name?” I asked. “In the name of Jesus, identify yourself.”
        “I…don’t…know,” she said quietly.
        “But you are the spirit who has been residing inside of Marguerite? In the name of Jesus, answer truthfully.”
        “Yes”, she replied without expression.
        Now positioning my right hand slightly above Marguerite’s head, while maintaining close eye contact, I said, “Then in the name of Jesus Christ, I declare that you must leave Marguerite, now! Depart from this temple of God. In the name of Jesus, may you now be cast out of Marguerite, never to return to her!”
        Marguerite’s eyes closed for a moment, then reopened…still with that somewhat vacant look. “In the name of Jesus Christ,” I asked, “who are you?”
        “Marguerite,” she replied quietly, almost as if hypnotized.
        “In the name of Jesus Christ, are there any unclean spirits still inside of you?” I asked.
        “No,” she said flatly.
        “Marguerite, how do you feel now?”
        “Peaceful,” she replied in the same flat tone. “I feel at peace now.”
        “Do you feel that the oppressing spirit is now gone from you?” I asked her.
        “Yes…I feel it’s gone from me now. Thank you, very much,” she said quietly.
        “I’m so glad, Marguerite,” I told her, resting my hand on her shoulder. “God bless you.”
        All through this, Clifford had been sitting upon the parlor sofa, observing in silence. Although he made no comment now, Lisa - who’d been standing by the stairs - approached us and said, “For a moment there, Marguerite, I saw your face startin’ to turn mean, just like it used to! Right then I thought that you were gonna start freakin’ out again!”
        “It did?” Marguerite asked her with a light chuckle.
        “Yes, I noticed it too,” said Carl, also coming forward.
        “Well, I guess this time I wasn’t as wild actin’ as usual,” said Marguerite, in a subdued tone.
        Grant asked, “But you do feel better, Marguerite?”
        “Oh, yes…much better,” she replied. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”
        “Well, that’s understandable,” said Grant, rising from his seat. “Well done, Keith!”
        “Yes, great job, Keith!” said Jason, also rising from his seat.
        “Thank you, guys,” I said. “And thank you for being here.”
        “Not a problem,” Jason assured me.
        Leo suggested, “Maybe you’d like to go upstairs and take a nap for awhile, Marguerite?”
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        Old January 18th, 2006 (5:42 PM).
        Zerro's Avatar
        Zerro Zerro is offline
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          “Oh, no, I think I’ll just sit here for awhile,” she said.
          Coming over to me, Carl said, “Yes, that was extremely well done, Keith. How are you feeling now?”
          “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little drained, I suppose, but alright,” I told him.
          Jason then announced, “I think we could all use a little breather. How about we take a few, and allow Keith a chance to get his second wind? Then afterwards, Keith can start blessing the house before we leave.” Addressing Marguerite and Leo, Jason verified, “That is what you people would like, right?”
          “Oh, yes,” replied Marguerite.
          “Yes, definitely,” confirmed Leo. “Keith does a good job at that.”
          Glancing over at Clifford, I noticed him flinch slightly.

          “God, I wish Sandra was here with me now,” I whispered to Carl as we sat together at the kitchen table. “I really need her on these types of cases.”
          “I know,” said Carl. “And, I know I'm not the one you're used to working when it comes to deliverance but please let me know if there's anything you need.”
          Lisa then came over with two large glasses of soda, with plenty of ice, and set then down before us. “Here ya go, guys,” she said pleasantly.
          “Thank you, Lisa,” said Carl. “These will sure go down well right about now.”
          “Yes, thank you very much, Lisa,” I told her.
          “You’re welcome, guys,” she said with a smile.
          As soon as she’d walked away, I leaned toward Carl and whispered, “But the thing is, I need Sandra to be here with me now; I need her support, as well as her experience with this case.”
          “Yes, I know, and I sympathize, Keith,” Carl whispered back. “Just remember, after filming this case there shouldn't be any reason why you should ever have to be on an investigation without Sandra by your side."
          Lowering my gaze, I nodded resignedly.
          Very quietly, Carl then asked me, “What did you think of the way Marguerite reacted, during your deliverance session with her?”
          Leaning closer to him, I whispered, “Well, it certainly wasn’t like when we were here in January, and she went off. I mean, there were no bells and whistles, so to speak…no blackening out of her eyes this time, no cussing me out in French, no labored breathing…no excessive salivating. I mean, in a way it’s fortunate that it wasn’t as traumatic, especially since she wasn’t feeling well earlier.”
          “Yes, I noticed that she was considerably more subdued than on the video,” Carl agreed. “And how would you account for that? You think the fact that it’s daytime might have limited the spirit’s ability to function?”
          “Yes…that could have had something to do with it,” I said. “Possibly the atmosphere in here today, too, with so many unfamiliar people here. But, remember when Marguerite’s facial expression started to change for just a moment?”
          “And she briefly took on that sinister look? Yes, I noticed,” said Carl.
          “Well, right after that, when I was actually addressing the entity, I had the impression that the spirit personality was only partly coming through…and that Marguerite’s personality was also present, simultaneously. It hadn’t completely taken over her, like it has in the past. You know what I mean?”
          “You’re suggesting she may have only been in a state of ‘partial possession’,” said Carl.
          “Exactly,” I whispered.
          “Well,” said Carl, “as you know, my personal belief is that in cases of severe oppression, when an actual spirit entity is involved…and this especially goes for cases of possession…there’s almost invariably a psychological factor involved as well, regarding the afflicted individual. There has to be some psychological or emotional vulnerability, to allow an incorporeal intelligence to invade the psyche. Maybe even if, say for example, someone’s developed an emotional dependence for an ‘unseen friend’, who they met through using a Ouija board. In fact, in the majority of cases I believe it’s ninety-eight per cent psychology, and two per cent parapsychology. ”
          “Hm-hm,” I acknowledged. “Well, we can only hope and pray that Marguerite’s affliction doesn’t reoccur…especially since we don’t happen to have a psychoanalyst available.”
          “Well…we’ve got Brian,” Carl suggested with a casual shrug.

          A minute or so later, Jason came over to me and asked, “So, you doing okay Buddy?”
          “Sure…ready to start the blessing, whenever you’d like.”
          “Listen, before we start the blessing, I’m going outside for a cigarette and to chill out for a moment; how about joining me?” asked Jason.
          “Sure, I could use a breath of fresh air right about now,” I replied.
          Outside the rain had tapered off to a light drizzle, as Jason and I leaned our forearms on the metal railing, outside on the front steps. Casually glancing around the parking lot, Jason said, “So…like I said before, you and me have sure been through a lot together over the past several years. And we’ve certainly come a long way.”
          “You said it,” I agreed. “And again, I’d like to say how much it meant to me, to have both you and Grant in the room there with me, while I was going through the session with Marguerite. Now, I guess all we have to do is the cleansing of the house from room to room, before we wrap things up for the day.”
          “Yeah…speaking of which, we’ve really got to try and convince Marguerite’s son Clifford that we positively, absolutely need to have access into that locked bedroom, if we’re going to complete what we came here to do,” said Jason.
          “Well, that won’t be easy, knowing how paranoid Clifford is about keeping that room locked,” I said. “And both Leo and Marguerite have given Clifford final say about that room, so they certainly won’t dare to override him.”
          “Well, then we’ll just have to work on Clifford,” said Jason. “Anyway, getting back to the session with Marguerite…how did you feel about that, the way she was reacting, and how she came out of it?”
          “Well…actually, to be honest, it all seemed a bit too easy,” I said. “First of all, she didn’t put up as much resistance as she did back in January. And also, this time she didn’t really seem to have totally gone under, like she last time…and she didn’t seem to have fully come out of it, either. She seemed like she was dazed, or something…both during and after.”
          “Yeah, I noticed that too,” said Jason. “And you’re right, it did seem to go a little too easy this time. So…are you wondering the same thing I am?”
          Glancing over at him, I said, “That perhaps the entity only pretended to leave Marguerite, and it could still be inside of her??”
          “That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” said Jason, now turning to face me as well. “Something just didn’t feel right about it.”
          “Well, that certainly is a demonic strategy,” I said. “It does happen sometimes, in cases of possession…a spirit only pretends to leave at first, hoping that if it simply hides itself for awhile, everyone will naturally just assume it’s gone!”
          “And you and I have been around these sort of things too long, to simply give up and leave without a fight, if we’re not totally convinced the situation’s been taken care of,” Jason reminded me. “So, if you’re feeling up to it, I think we should ask Marguerite if she’d mind you trying one final test, just to make certain that everything’s totally gone. What do you think?”
          “You don’t have to ask twice, Jason,” I told him. “I’ll just announce to her that it’s simply something we normally do in such situations, just as a final precaution.”
          “Alright, Buddy!” said Jason, smiling and slapping me on the shoulder. “Like I said before, I have total confidence in you. Hopefully we’ll be able to wrap things up and get out of here within the next few hours; I know you’re anxious to get home, and so am I. Now let's go back in there and do this."
          After praying for success in this endeavor, as well as for the protection of everyone involved, I approached Marguerite and explained to her that I would like to do one brief, final prayer session with her. “This is just a standard precaution we take, to make certain once and for all that the invading spirit is completely gone. Would you be agreeable to this?” I asked her.
          “Oh yes, that seems like it would be a good idea”, Marguerite readily agreed.
          “Good,” I said with a smile. “Then let’s all gather around exactly like we did before. This shouldn’t take long at all.”
          (Indeed, beforehand I had resolved that this would be over as quickly as possible. For one thing, owing to Marguerite’s weakened condition, I had no intention of putting her though the ordeal of a prolonged struggle, as had happened back in January. For another thing, if I could succeed in provoking the demonic personality to manifest, I was determined that this time, it would not elude me before I’d dealt with it!)
          After once again taking my seat beside her, as she sat comfortably in her large, cushioned easy chair, I said, “Alright, Marguerite, we’ll begin with an ‘Our Father’, just like we did before. Please pray along with me, as we recite the prayer, which Jesus gave to us: ‘Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name…”
          Again holding her Rosary beads in her right hand, Marguerite prayed along with me flawlessly. “Amen,” we said together, at the conclusion of the Lord’s Prayer.
          Then turning to the New Testament, I announced, “Next will be a reading from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter Ten, verses seventeen through twenty: ‘The seventy-two returned with joy and said, ‘Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.’ He replied, ‘I saw Satan fall like lightening from heaven. I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.’”
          Next, I chose to once again read from the ninth chapter of Hebrews, making certain to place emphasis on the sections where the blood of Christ was mentioned. “‘How much more then, will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living God!’”
          Closing my Bible at the end of this Scripture reading, I looked up and smiled pleasantly, at the same time making certain to closely scrutinize Marguerite’s facial expression. Just as I’d hoped…there was the barely perceptible, glazed look of unrest to her eyes. “And now, Marguerite, I’d like to pray with you again,” I said. “Jesus, our Lord and Savior, in Your name we ask for angelic intervention. In Your name, we ask that this daughter of Abraham be set free from any unclean spirit, which may be oppressing her. Send Your Spirit down upon Marguerite, Lord, and touch her with Your healing power. May she be covered with Your blood, which was shed for us on Calvary. Amen.”
          Although Marguerite’s eyes did not black out, they had now become quite glossy. “The blood of Christ be upon you, Marguerite,” I said. “The blood of Christ be upon you.”
          Marguerite’s breathing suddenly became noticeably labored. The sneering expression returned to her face, and she dropped her Rosary beads onto her lap. “In the name of Jesus Christ, are you Marguerite?” I asked her.
          “No,” she replied in a husky voice, between intakes of breath.
          “In the name of Jesus Christ, who are you?”
          “Edward who?”
          “Where are you, Edward?”
          “Down,” she wheezed, motioning downward with her left hand in a clawed position. “Down…there.”
          Refusing to further indulge these delay tactics, I then asked directly, “In the name of Jesus Christ, is your name really Edward?”
          She cast her glance downward, and began to turn away.
          “Look at me,” I said firmly. “In the name of Jesus Christ, are you really Edward? Are you a human spirit?”
          “No,” she grudgingly replied.
          “In the same of Jesus Christ…what kind of spirit are you?”
          She again averted her glance. “In the name of Jesus Christ,” I repeated, “What kind of Spirit are you? Speak truthfully.”
          “A devil!” she hissed with an air of defiance.
          “So, we have established that you are not Edward, but that you are instead a spirit of Perdition,” I said. “Why are you doing this to Marguerite? Why are you inside of her?”
          “I like her,” the entity replied. “I need her.”
          “In the name of Jesus Christ, do you have a legal right to be inside of Marguerite?” I asked pointedly.
          After a moment’s pause, she reluctantly replied, “No.”
          “Then why are you inside of her?” I asked.
          “I need her body, to live through,” she replied.
          Noticing that her breathing was now slightly less labored, I decided to briefly pursue this line of interrogation. “But by staying in her, you’re also inflicting great discomfort on Marguerite. Why are you doing this to her? In the name of Jesus, answer truthfully.”
          “Because…because of…because…” she murmured, her voice trailing off. She then began to cough.
          “Because of what?” I asked as soon as she’d caught her breath. “Answer, in the name of Jesus Christ.”
          She then replied, “Because of…Clifford.”
          “Because of Clifford? What about Clifford??” I asked.
          “Because…she cares about Clifford. Marguerite loves Clifford, and cares about him. And-I-want-her-all-for-myself!” the entity declared.
          (So…Marguerite’s emotional attachment to her son Clifford was the key! Carl’s theory about the psychological/emotional vulnerability factor had proven correct!)
          “In the name of Jesus Christ…do you have any connection to the bedroom which Clifford keeps locked upstairs?” I asked.
          “Noooo,” she replied.
          “Are you ever in that upstairs bedroom?”
          “On the authority of Jesus Christ, are there more than one of you inside of Marguerite?”
          “No…I’m the only one.”
          “On the authority of Jesus Christ, are there ever more than one of you inside of Marguerite?”
          “No. Only me.”
          For a moment, I suddenly discerned that the entity was once again beginning to retreat. “In the name of Jesus Christ,” I said quickly, “on the authority of His shed blood, do not go down! How did you first enter Marguerite?”
          “I just entered her,” the spirit reluctantly answered.
          Marguerite again began to avert her gaze. “Look at me,” I directed. “In the name of Jesus–”
          “I HATE YOU!!” she suddenly shot back, now turning to face me again.
          “You hate me?” I asked. “Well, the time has come, and you are now going to have to leave this child of God. And when you leave, in the name of Jesus Christ, you will give me a sign of your departure.”
          With a sigh she again began to turn away. “Look at me,” I said, commanding the entity’s attention. “By the power of Jesus Christ, you are now compelled to leave this child of God. You will go to Jesus, to be dealt with as He will. Let the Holy Spirit now descend, and free this daughter of Abraham.”
          "I'm strong!" the entity told me in an effort to intimidate.
          "You may be strong, but the power of Jesus Christ is ultimately stronger," I said.
          Gritting her teeth, Marguerite began to writhe, although the ferocity she’d previously exhibited was no longer apparent.
          “In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit,” I prayed, “let Marguerite be covered in the precious shed blood of Jesus Christ. Covered by the blood, covered by the blood, covered by the blood. May a mighty warrior angel of God be present with us, Lord, and may Your servant Marguerite be set free…”
          Suddenly closing her eyes and throwing her head back, Marguerite let out a long, baleful cry: “AAAAAAAAAWWW!!” She then slowly raised her head, opened her eyes and blinked.
          “Marguerite?” I asked. “Marguerite, are you alright?”
          The look in her eyes and the tone of her voice were now altogether different, as she quietly replied, “Yes…yes, I’m alright.” She then smiled at me, with such an expression of serenity to her face that she truly seemed to be free of her oppression.
          “How do you feel now, Marguerite?” I asked her.
          “I feel very peaceful, and relaxed,” she replied.
          As a final precaution, I handed Marguerite back her Rosary beads and said an additional prayer, asking in the name of Jesus that if any oppressing spirit remained, it reveal its presence. Since Marguerite demonstrated no adverse reaction whatsoever, I asked her to join me in a prayer of thanksgiving.” Joining hands with her, I prayed: “Almighty God we praise and thank you, that through Your divine mercy, Your servant Marguerite has been delivered from the captivity of this spirit of darkness. Let the precious blood of Your Son Jesus continue to cover her, and the Holy Spirit continue to dwell within her. In your holy name we pray with thanksgiving…amen.”
          “Amen!” Marguerite repeated with conviction.
          Grant then asked, “So, Marguerite, how are you feeling? Better?”
          “Yes, I’m actually feeling much better,” she replied. “It does feel something like a weight off of me.”
          Smiling delightedly, her husband Leo remarked on just how clear her eyes now appeared.
          Grant agreed. “Yes, Marguerite, your eyes do look so sparkling and clear!”
          “There’s even a certain radiance to them,” I added.
          Marguerite blushed slightly, and chuckled with embarrassment at all the sudden compliments she was receiving.

          As my brother Carl and I began to prepare for the final blessing of the residence, both Jason and Grant pulled their chairs up in front of Marguerite to further interview her. In his personable manner, Jason asked, “So, you’re feeling better now than you did before, Marguerite?”
          “Oh, yes, so much better,” she replied.
          On my way into the kitchen area to join Carl, I happened to glance at Clifford, who was seated on the sofa with Lisa beside him. Because he’d been in and out a few times over the last hour, I really had no idea just how much of the deliverance session he’d paid attention to. However, since he’d now removed his hunting cap and his jacket, it appeared as if he planned on remaining inside for now.
          When both Brian and Steve then emerged from the basement after having taken some EMF readings, they paused for a moment to converse with each other in hushed tones. At one point, I overheard Brian quietly mention the words “upstairs, next”…which Clifford had apparently also overheard, since his head instantly turned to their direction.
          Because Jason and Grant were presently being taped interviewing Marguerite in the parlor, it was arranged that cameraman Dave would accompany Carl and I down into the basement.
          Once the three of us were in the cellar, Dave commented, “It’s hard to breathe down here; the air’s really thick.” He then asked us, “Are you guys feeling anything unusual down here?”
          “There is a noticeable heaviness to the atmosphere in this basement,” Carl agreed. “How about you, Keith? Are you feeling anything?”
          “Yes, it does feel somewhat oppressive,” I said. Turning to Dave, I explained, “When Marguerite and her family first moved into this place, they found satanic writing on the walls down here…references to satanic worship, the number ‘666’, and all sorts of blasphemies and anti-religious symbols. So, presumably, the people who lived here just before they moved in were involved in satanic worship of some sort, and they obviously introduced negative energy into this place.”
          “It’s really focused down here?” asked Dave. “You’re feeling it really heavy?”
          “I feel it very heavily right now,” I said. “And I sense it may be with us down here now…although sometimes these things do tend to move about.”
          Carl added, “One thing about inhuman demonic entities, is once they’re invited in, they’re hard as hell to get rid of. They don’t necessarily leave when you tell them to. They’re easy to bring in; hard to expel.”
          Dave then wanted to know exactly what I happened to be experiencing at that precise moment. “I’m feeling pressure around me,” I said. “A little difficulty in breathing…the air down here seems quite heavy. It’s as though whatever’s here is issuing a warning for us to proceed no further…that we’re infringing upon its territory. We have no right to be here. That’s the impression I’m getting, very heavily, right now.” Since I already had my tape recorder going, I said, “I’m asking that if you have any messages…please give them now.”
          Standing at a certain spot near the center of the room, Carl commented, “You know, I like to consider myself not given to fancy, or suggestion. But right here, it’s palpable, electric. It doesn’t feel so much evil or oppressive to me right now, but as soon as I stepped into this radius here, a sensation like an electrical current went down through my thorax, and through my left arm.”
          “Are you feeling the heaviness, like a weight?” I asked him.
          “I’m not feeling that; it was more like a tingling sensation,” said Carl.
          In a further attempt to possibly obtain an EVP, I asked, “Is there something you’d like to say?” After a pause, I asked, “Does the name Edward mean anything to you? Please give a message or some sort of sign, now.”
          Upon reviewing the audio tape, however, the EVP session yielded nothing definitive.
          When we were prepared to commence with the blessing of the basement, Dave asked, “What have you got there, Carl?”
          “I’m going to pass Keith the cross he uses to conduct a blessing,” Carl explained. “He’ll also be using holy water and blessed oil.”
          “Thank you,” I said as Carl passed these items to me.
          Carl said, “If you don’t mind, Keith, I’ll be following you around with the digital recorder.”
          For some reason, I was now getting the distinct impression that whatever unseen force might be down here in the basement with us was now moving about. Focusing upon the area directly over the floor where human remains were rumored to have been deposited, I held the cross in my right hand, ready to proceed with the blessing. Suddenly, my brother Carl began to appear a bit unsteady. As Dave and I both shot a questioning glance in his direction, Carl explained, “Now I feel it…that sensation of electricity; I feel that so strongly right through my legs, making my knees weak…”
          Realizing that I’d never seen Carl react in quite this manner before, I rushed over to him to offer assistance. Carl then became so off balance, his knees began to buckle. Dave instantly grabbed a nearby aluminum chair and slid it over to us. Leaning upon my arm for support, Carl apologized and said, “I’ll tell ya, Keith, I’ve never felt anything just like this.”
          “No?’ I asked, easing him down into the chair.
          “No, it’s…it’s just since I moved into that radius, where you were feeling oppressed before,” replied Carl.
          “It seems to be moving around, building,” I remarked.
          “What do you mean, ‘building’?” Dave wanted to know.
          “The energy seems to be building,” I replied. “It’s almost as if it’s getting ready to do something…even if it’s just to keep in motion.”
          “It’s like a surge of electrical energy,” Carl reiterated. “And I agree, it does seem to be moving, almost as though it’s playing a game of cat and mouse with us.”
          It was then I announced, “In the name of Jesus Christ, I bind you to the framework of this cellar, and command that you will not leave, until you are dealt with according to His divine justice!”
          As Dave readied his camera, I then began the blessing of the basement area by reciting Psalm 23. “The Lord in my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…”

          When the blessing of the entire basement had been completed, we returned upstairs to find Jason, Grant and Clifford in the parlor, all three of them standing directly in front of the entrance to the kitchen. Lisa sat nearby on the sofa, glancing up at them with apprehension registering on her face. Apparently, Grant was involved in some heated discussion with Clifford, which was obviously what we’d been overhearing while still in the cellar. Carl, Dave and I shared a look with each other, as if to silently ask,
          “What’s going on now?”
          As we listened, Grant was telling Clifford, “Listen, if we’re going to do this properly, we absolutely need access into that bedroom upstairs. Nothing’s going to hurt you, but we need to get into that room.”
          Jason added, ‘He’s right, Clifford. In order to complete our investigation properly and wind things up here, you have to let us into that room.”
          However, it instantly became obvious that they were making no leeway with Clifford whatsoever. “No, I…I can’t do that,” he said, nervously shifting his glance between Jason and Grant. “M-Maybe next time, guys, but not now. It-it’s just too dangerous.”
          His frustration obviously mounting, Grant told Clifford, “I understand you feel that there are dangers involved, and I respect that. But you have to understand our position as well…we can’t proceed any further with our investigation, or with Keith’s blessing for that matter, unless you let us have access into that room. Now look, we’ve come a very long way to help you, and none of us can guarantee that we’ll be able to shoot right back up here if the same problems start up again.”
          “Grant does have a point, Clifford,” Jason emphasized. “If you think everything’s going to be hunky-dory and all activity will automatically cease, just because you’re keeping that door locked, you could be opening a whole can of worms here. I mean, Keith did a blessing here last winter, and the activity gradually started up again, and just maybe that was because you wouldn’t let him bless that one room. If there is anything inside that bedroom, then I’m sure you have to have to admit to the illogic of believing that you can keep a spirit safely locked away in there.”
          “So, what do you say, Clifford…huh?” asked Grant. “You know we’re only asking this for your own good, and for the safety of the rest of your family.”
          “Yeah, but, I…I can’t,” replied Clifford. “I don’t feel I’m ready yet. Maybe next time…next time you come down here, y’know? Then maybe I’ll be ready.”
          “Look, Clifford”, said Grant, “first of all, we came ‘up’ here from Rhode Island, not down. And secondly, like I said, we came all this way to help you and your family, and I simply can’t promise that anyone’s going to make another three-hour trip to Lewiston just to re-bless this entire house. Especially when there’s no guarantee that you’ll even let them in that bedroom next time.”
          “Oh yes I will,” Clifford quickly responded. “Because I’ll probably be better about it by then. So next time you come here, I promise you’ll be able to get in, because I’ll let you in!”
          “Yes, but Clifford,” said Jason, “I’m not going to lie to you. You’re playing cat and mouse with something you can’t even see, because you think you’ve gained some level of control over it by keeping a door locked upstairs. But how do you explain all the other things that your family reports have been going on in this house for months? Plus, religious provocation’s been done here, so I really would advise you to allow Keith to complete the blessing. What can it possibly hurt? Besides, Keith knows exactly what he’s doing.”
          “Please, man, just listen to reason” Grant attempted to persuade him one last time. “We need you to let us into that room, today, before we leave, if only to be on the safe side!”
          “N-No, I canna-no do that!” Clifford stammered. “Next time you guys come down here - or up here - I’ll probably feel more comfortable about lettin’ you in that bedroom!”
          Finally, Jason suggested to Clifford, “Alright…listen…why don’t you just chill for a few minutes, and allow yourself some time to think about the situation a little more? Talk it over with your girlfriend Lisa for awhile. In the meantime, the rest of us will take a break, and have a little group discussion ourselves. Sound good, guy?”
          “Y-Yeah…that sounds like a good idea,” said Clifford, with a momentary sigh of relief. “Me an’ Lisa’ll talk it over, while you guys go discuss.”
          “Fair enough,” said Jason.
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          Old January 18th, 2006 (5:43 PM).
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            After Jason had called us all together, he and Grant, along with Steve, Brian, Andy, Carl and myself, stood gathered in a group outside by our parked vehicles. Leaning against the TAPS van, Jason told us, “Alright, guys, here’s the scoop: Obviously, as much as we like these people, we don’t want to wind up having to make a trip back up here every other month. But, in order to wrap things up properly here today, we positively need access into that padlocked bedroom. Now, I don’t know if you’re all aware of the situation, but Marguerite’ and Leo’s son Clifford was just on the verge of freaking out in there, because he’s absolutely terrified about opening the door and letting us in there.”
            Andy asked, “Excuse me, Jason but…what exactly is he afraid will happen if he does open it for us?”
            “Oh, he probably thinks he’s got Satan himself locked up in that bedroom, and Armageddon will be unleashed if he opens it!” said Jason.
            (Once again, I was reminded of that old “Twilight Zone” episode.)
            Straight-faced, Steve suggested, “Of course, we could always just kick the door in, and tell them it was an accident.”
            Brian chimed in, “Believe me, Dude, that thought crossed my mind!”
            “There’s the cop in you speaking up, guy,” Grant told Steve with a smile.
            “Which brings up a point,” said Jason. “Me and Grant have been discussion our possible options, and this is what we’ve come up with: Steve, as part of your police tactical training, you’ve had to be trained in negotiations, haven’t you?”
            Waxing serious, Steve affirmed, “Yes, that is part of required training at the police academy.”
            “Good,” said Jason. “So what I need from you, Steve, is to use your negotiating skills, to try and convince Clifford into letting us into that room. Would you be willing to do this?”
            “Absolutely,” Steve replied without hesitation. “I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”
            “Excellent, Steve,” said Jason. Turning to me, he added, “Keith, I’d like you to be with Steve when he talks with Clifford, since you tend to have a calming effect on people.”
            “Will do, Jason,” I assured him.
            Turning to the others, Jason said, “Andy and Carl…I’d like the two of you to keep both Leo’s and Marguerite’s attention diverted away from what’s going on with Clifford, as much as possible. Just keep them focused on discussing their situation and what’s being done about it, or whatever. Meanwhile, since we can’t be sure exactly how Clifford will react, Grant and Brian and I will be keeping a close watch over everything that’s going on, including making sure the film crew’s out of harm’s way should anything happen.” Sweeping a serious glance over each of us, he asked, “Alright, is everyone clear on exactly what his position is?”
            We all agreed that Jason’s instructions were perfectly clear. Each one of us understood exactly what was expected.
            “Alright then, guys…let’s go in there as a team, and take care of this situation once and for all,” Jason told us.
            “Let’s do this, guys,” added Grant, giving us a double thumbs-up. He and Jason then led us back inside the apartment.

            As soon as Andy and Carl had successfully managed to engage both Leo and Marguerite in conversation, Steve and I approached Clifford, who was seated beside Lisa on the sofa at the other end of the parlor. Smiling politely, Steve asked, “Hi, Clifford? Would you mind if we just had a word with you for a few minutes?”
            “Uh, sure, no problem,” he replied.
            “Good,” said Steve, as we both pulled up chairs in front of him. “So, how’re you doing, Clifford?”
            “Oh, I’m doin’ okay, just fine,” Clifford replied.
            Glancing at Steve’s arms, Lisa smiled and commented, “Say, those are some pretty neat tattoos you got there!”
            “Thank you,” said Steve.
            “Yeah, I was just noticing them too,” said Clifford, who was obviously also impressed.
            “What exactly are they of?” asked Lisa.
            “Mostly Star Wars illustrations,” said Steve, holding out his arms to enable Clifford and Lisa a closer inspection.
            “Wow…did you get ‘em all at once?” Lisa asked.
            “No, this was actually over the course of three years,” Steve explained. Casually folding his hands together, he then said, “So, Clifford…would you mind if I asked you a question, about that upstairs bedroom?”
            “Uh…no, I wouldn’t mind, “ he said.
            “Why do you feel that it’s necessary to keep it padlocked?”
            Hesitantly, Clifford replied, “Uh…um…for everyone’s safety.”
            “Why for everyone’s safety? I don’t quite understand,” said Steve.
            “Because there’s evil in there,” said Clifford.
            “Why, what exactly is in that room?” asked Steve.
            “Nothing…really. Just a bed, and some cardboard boxes…that’s all,” said Clifford.
            “So, what’s so evil about that?” asked Steve.
            “There’s evil spirits in there,” explained Clifford. “That’s why I keep it locked all the time, so they can’t get out.”
            “But you still have a key to that padlock, right?” asked Steve.
            Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Clifford replied, “Yeah, but I never use it. I haven’t been in there myself for over a year now…y’know?”
            “Hmm…must need some serious dusting in there by now, wouldn’t you think?” asked Steve, with his pleasant smile.
            However, Steve’s light-hearted tension breaker was lost on Clifford. “But you have to understand, I never go in there, for any reason, ever,” he said.
            “Well, I do understand that you keep that bedroom off-limits to everyone,” said Steve. “But, you know, Clifford, just because you keep the door padlocked, that doesn’t necessarily mean that whatever spirits may be in that room can’t still effect you and your family. Now, Keith’s pretty much blessed the rest of the entire house here…and I feel that if you were to let him in to bless that one bedroom that’s left, it might take care of the problem once and for all.”
            Becoming defensive, Clifford said, “But if I open that door, that’ll allow ‘em to escape.”
            “Allow who to escape, Clifford?” asked Steve.
            “The evil spirits,” Clifford replied. “I’m afraid that they’ll get out, and then they’ll kill us all!”
            “But I’m telling you, Clifford, that Keith’s had years of experience doing this, and you can trust him to handle the situation safely,” said Steve.
            “That’s right, Clifford, this can be handled safely,” I also tried to assure him. “You wouldn’t even have to be right there, if you don’t want to. In fact, if you’d prefer, one of us could unlock the door, and it would take less than ten minutes for me to properly bless the room.”
            Clifford glanced apprehensively from me, to Steve, and then to Lisa for support. “Listen to them, Clifford,” she gently urged him. “They’re only trying to do what’s best for you and your family. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about that room up there no more.”
            “No…no, I’m not ready to open that bedroom door yet,” he told us. “Maybe I’ll be ready next time you guys come over here.”
            Steve attempted to reason, “But why not let us do it today while we’re all here, and get to over with? Like Lisa said, then you wouldn’t have to worry about the spirits escaping from the bedroom anymore.”
            “That’s right,” I said. “Then I could spiritually seal the room, through prayers and with blessed oil.”
            “So what do you say, scout?” asked Steve, lightly patting Clifford’s arm in a friendly manner.
            “I…I say, I don’t think I’m ready for this right now,” he replied, becoming visibly more agitated. “Next week, I’m supposed to start seeing a new doctor, so hopefully she’ll be able to help me. Then maybe I’ll be ready to unlock the door.”
            “You were seeing a doctor regularly before?” Steve asked him.
            “Yes,” said Clifford. “I used to be on tranquilizers, for hypertension.
            “But you’re not taking any medications now?” asked Steve.
            “No. But, I’m pretty sure my new doctor will prescribe some new medication for me. So next time, I should be ready to unlock the door for you guys,” Clifford explained.
            “Clifford…there’s no guarantee that there will be a next time,” Steve reiterated. “So, that’s why we feel it’s imperative that you grant us access to that room before we leave today. So, listen…if I might offer another suggestion, do you think that maybe you’d feel more comfortable, if you just gave us the key to the lock, and you and Lisa waited outside while Keith blessed the room?”
            “No,” Clifford was adamant. “Because then the evil spirits would be loose in the house when we came back in.”
            Steve asked, “What if Keith and I were to give you a guarantee, that the spirits would be completely gone by the time you came back inside?”
            “Well, no,” said Clifford, “because they might come back in and attack us after you guys have left!”
            “That wouldn’t happen, Clifford,” said Steve. “Not if Keith does his job thoroughly, which I know he will. You see, I’ve been with Keith when he’s done these types of spiritual cleansings before. That’s how Keith and I first met, when I asked for his assistance in a case which involved evil spirits.”
            “So please, Clifford,” I implored him. “Your mother and father want this to happen, so they can sleep peacefully at night. Lisa wants this to happen. And I promise that none of you will be attacked while I’m doing this, or after we leave. The most that will happen is that the spirits will simply move on to someplace else. So, what do you say?”
            “It’s just up to you now, Clifford, to give us the go-ahead,” said Steve.
            Now beginning to stammer and hyperventilate, Clifford replied, “No! N-No! I-I…like I said, maybe…maybe after I’ve seen my new doctor next week. But I-I just feel that I’m not ready…I’m not ready for this yet!”
            Steve then instructed, “Clifford, listen to me. Right now, I just want you to take a deep breath. Can you do that for me, Clifford? Just take a deep breath…and then let it out slowly. Okay?”
            “Okay…okay,” Clifford panted.
            Demonstrating mutual support, both Steve and I breathed in deeply along with Clifford…held it for a moment…then slowly exhaled together. “Very good, Clifford,” Steve told him. “Now, are you feeling any better? Any more relaxed?”
            “Yeah…I’m feelin’ a little more relaxed,” he replied.
            “Good,” said Steve. “Now, without getting upset…I just want you to calmly consider what we’ve been discussing, about possibly allowing access us into that bedroom upstairs.”
            However, as soon as the locked upstairs bedroom door was mentioned again, Clifford’s paranoia returned with full intensity, this time accompanied by whining/wheezing sounds between intakes of breath. In fact, he appeared completely and utterly terrified, as if he were about to be led to his own execution. Realizing that Clifford was now on the threshold of a potentially violent panic attack, Steve and I finally relinquished our attempts to coerce him into permitting us access into the upstairs bedroom.
            “It’s alright, Clifford,” I told him, lightly patting his shoulder. “Just forget about it right now. No one’s going to force you into anything. Be calm…be still.” Gently taking hold of Lisa’s hand and placing it into Clifford’s, I added, “You have someone right here who loves you…and you’re among family, and friends. It’s alright now.”
            “Thank…thank you…Keith,” said Clifford, his breathing gradually becoming slightly less labored.
            Lisa then clasped his hand in both of hers, and told him, “It’s okay now, Cliff. It’s okay.”

            Upstairs once again, with Carl assisting me, I began the blessing of the bedrooms and the hallway with the Twenty Third Psalm, followed by Psalm Ninety One. At the top of the stairway, I also recited a prayer for the spirits of the deceased: “Merciful Jesus, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest. Merciful Jesus, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest. Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant them rest eternal. Amen.”
            There was then nothing left, but the padlocked bedroom door in front of us. Carl commented, “It seems the best that you can do, Keith, is to simply anoint the outside of the door, and hope it takes effect. Unfortunately, I guess we’ll never know the exact cause of Brian’s EMF reading of one-point-nine…although the explanation was most likely mundane.”
            “Most likely,” I agreed with a sigh. “Well…we may as well commence, and then the blessing of the apartment will be completed, as far as we can go.”
            Smearing the blessed oil onto the front of the door in the shape of a large cross, I said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, we bless and seal this door, declaring that anything unholy which may be connected with it be nullified, and rendered inactive.” After also anointing all four corners of the door, and all along the edges, I tossed some holy water underneath the door, as far into the room as it could possibly reach. “In the name of Jesus,” I said, “may anything unholy which dwells within this room be cast out. And in its place, we ask that an angel of God be sent to watch over this room, and to guard against any evil presence which may attempt to dwell within.”
            By now, I was feeling emotionally spent, and overwhelmed with frustration over being denied access to the locked bedroom…combined with the fact that I was acutely missing having Sandra by my side, to lend her support and professionalism. Leaning both my hands against the bedroom door, I began pushing against it, as if it would somehow automatically open for me this way. Carl, sensing that I was about to collapse from exhaustion, placed his hands on my shoulders and told me, “Keith…you’ve done all that you can. It’s over now.”
            After lowering my head and nodding in agreement, I slowly backed away from the door.
            When Carl and I had returned downstairs to the first floor once again, we reported to Jason and Grant and the others that the blessing of the upstairs area was now complete. “At least, to the extent that we were allowed,” I added. (Still seated upon the sofa beside Lisa, Clifford appeared greatly relieved.)
            Grant then told us, “Listen…before we wrap things up, I’d just like to go downstairs into the basement for a few minutes, by myself, off camera. It’s a personalized type of blessing I’d like to perform, which I believe will help.”
            “Sure, Grant,” Jason gave him his approval. “If you’d like to add to the blessing in your own way, that’ll be great. Go for it.”
            As Grant also looked at me, I told him, “The Lord be with you, Grant. We’re certainly blessed with your experience.”
            “Thank you, Keith,” said Grant, placing his hand on my shoulder in a display of mutual faith. He then proceeded downstairs to the basement by himself.
            When Grant emerged from the basement several minutes later, he acknowledged to Jason, Carl and myself that his own additional blessing was completed, and that everything had gone well. Since this was obviously something personal to him regarding his faith, I respected his method and experience without asking him for details.
            Approaching Leo and Marguerite, Jason then told them, “Well, this pretty much wraps up our investigation here today. As you know, Keith has blessed the entire apartment, with the exception of the upstairs bedroom which Clifford keeps locked. What we’ll do now is go back to TAPS Headquarters in Rhode Island, review our evidence, and then our next step will come back and let you know our findings. Now, do either of you have any questions at this time?”
            “No,” said Marguerite, “I think that pretty much covers it all. We want to thank you all very much, for all that you’ve done for us. Thank you!”
            “Yes, thank you so much!” said Leo, gratefully shaking hands with Jason.
            “You’re very welcome; we’re glad to help in any way we can,” Jason told them both.
            He then came over to me and warmly shook my hand as well. “Thank you, so much,” he told me. “Come see us again. And you make sure you bring your lovely wife with you next time!”
            “That I will, Leo,” I promised him.
            Marguerite placed her arms around me, and said, “So good to see you again, Keith. And thank you, again, for everything you did for me today. Tell your wife we missed her, and we look forward to seeing her again.”
            “She’ll be glad to hear that, Marguerite,” I said. “And it’s been so good seeing you again, too.”
            Marguerite then asked Jason and I, “So, when can we expect to see this episode on your new show…what’s the name of it again?”
            “‘Ghost Hunters’,” replied Jason. “And as of yet, I really have no idea exactly when this particular episode will air. But, as you know, the series itself will be premiering in mid-October.”
            Coming over to join us, Carl said. “And we’ll certainly keep in touch, so we’ll be sure to let you know.”
            “Yes, do that,” said Marguerite, embracing Carl. “And you make sure you come up and visit us again, like we were just telling your brother. In fact, I’ll make spaghetti for you when you come up again!”
            “Oh, sounds delicious!” said Carl. “We’ll be sure to be back, now.”
            Marguerite also gave Brian an embrace, telling him, “So good to see you again…and I’m glad you didn’t get sick this time!”
            “Me too, believe me!” Brian told her.

            As I was packing up, Clifford (who was now considerably more at ease than he’d been scarcely an hour earlier, when the pressure had been on him) approached me, and began socializing. In fact, he even appeared anxious to share with me the details, about how his only sister had met with her untimely demise a few years previous. “They initially tried to rule it as a suicide,” Clifford informed me. “But after examining her, the coroner declared that not only was she shot, she was also severely beaten beforehand.”
            “I’m so sorry to hear that, Clifford,” I commiserated with him. “Where was her body found?”
            “Actually, not too far from here,” said Clifford. “She was found along a path right down in the woods nearby. I go walking there sometimes.”
            “So, did they ever find out who did it?” I asked.
            Shifting his weight back and forth, Clifford replied, “Well, they figure it was drug related, an-an’ there was a lot of cover-up involved. An’ the coroner was supposed to testify, and reveal his findings to the court. But, he himself died, less than a week before he was supposed to reveal his report on my sister’s death.”
            “Died? How??” I asked.
            “He himself was murdered, shot to death, although they never found out who did it,” said Clifford. “In fact, I even got copies of the newspaper articles about it all. I’ll give you a copy, to take home with ya!”

            In the kitchen just before we left, both Lisa and Marguerite insisted that Carl take a container of Chinese food along with him, for the long ride home. They also spoke with both Carl and I about their impending eviction, which was partially due to a sudden and dramatic rent increase. Carl asked, “How long are the landlords giving you, before the final decision is made?”
            With a sigh, Marguerite replied, “Well, we’ve only got until the first of next month to get this resolved, which I know is only a couple of weeks from now. But don’t worry, we’ll fight this in court if we have to!”
            Unfortunately, another reason the family was facing possible eviction, was the result of Clifford’s stubborn refusal to allow the housing authorities into the padlocked upstairs bedroom for a full inspection. However, both Marguerite and Lisa seemed to feel confident that they had valid legal grounds, for denying the housing authorities access into the room.

            Outside in the parking lot several minutes later, as Carl and I were loading equipment into the van, we discussed some basic aspects of the case. Carl asked me, “Do you personally feel that there’s validity to Clifford’s claims, about there being dangerous demonic entities sealed up in that padlocked bedroom?”
            “Personally…no,” I replied. “At least, I doubt it. But, who knows? I could be wrong. I just didn’t sense any ‘pulsating evil’ emanating from the bedroom door.”
            “Well, I tend to agree with you on that point,” said Carl. “It’s most likely nothing more than Clifford’s own personal psychosis. The main problem is, Leo and Marguerite and Lisa are diametrically opposed to disagreeing with Clifford on this issue…and they’re also under the disillusionment that they can somehow use this in court, to prevent a full inspection of the apartment.”
            “Do you think they actually believe that the court will accept Clifford’s testimony, that this room is dangerously haunted?” I asked.
            “Well, from the way Marguerite was talking about it, she seems to feel they have a pretty good chance,” said Carl. “Of course, when Marguerite told me that, I initially wanted to quote Lieutenant Colombo, by telling her, ‘I wouldn’t count on it, Ma’am…I wouldn’t count on it.’ But of course, I kept it to myself.”
            “Just as well,” I said. “Hopefully, when the reality of the situation sets in, they’ll see reason. Anyway, we’ve all done our part; now all that remains is for us to review and collate our evidence.”
            “Which I’d hoped would be somewhat less ambiguous,” said Carl. “Of course, the ‘Holy Grail’ of a paranormal investigator would be to capture a full-bodied apparition on film or video.”
            “You say that after every on-site investigation,” I reminded him. “And I agree, that’s true. Unfortunately, the apparition of Marguerite’s youngest son didn’t appear to us on cue, while we were all there with the cameras rolling. Anyway, I wonder what Jason’s opinion is, of everything that went on today.”
            “Hey, guys!” said Jason, suddenly stepping over to join us, and slapping his hands on our shoulders. “Did I just hear my name mentioned?”
            “Hey, Jason, speak of the devil!” I said. “Yes, we were just discussing how the entire investigation went today, and wondering what your take is on everything that went down.”
            “Well,” said Jason, “as you guys were just discussing, we’ll have to go over all the footage from today. And it’s unfortunate, Keith, that Marguerite’s son Clifford wouldn’t allow us access in that locked upstairs bedroom, so you weren’t able to complete the blessing. But, I want you to know, as always, you guys both did a great job today…and I really appreciate everything.”
            “Thanks, Jason,” said Carl. “So glad we at least were all kept safe.”
            “Yes, thanks, Jason,” I said. “It’s always great working together with you on a case.”

            Just outside of Lewiston on our way back home, we stopped for refreshments at the first pizza restaurant we came to. By now, I was fortunately beginning to feel considerably less drained than before. As I shared a table with Steve, Andy and Brian, Steve commented: “Whatever Clifford has stashed inside of that bedroom upstairs, there was just no way of convincing him to unlock it for us. In fact, the more Keith and I tried to get him to see reason, the more paranoid and defensive he became, until it got to the point where he was one moment away from totally freaking out.”
            Munching on a slice of pizza while shaking his head, Brian added, “That dude Clifford needs to be on some serious medication, or something. I could tell he was on verge of loosing it. He was just as paranoid about not letting anyone in that room, back in January when were there. Right, Keith?”
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            Old January 18th, 2006 (5:49 PM).
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            Zerro Zerro is offline
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              “Oh yes, that’s been an ongoing issue with him,” I agreed. “And obviously, even though Leo and Marguerite pay the rent, neither they nor Clifford’s girlfriend Lisa will dare to disagree with him.”
              Of course not; they’re obviously too scared to disagree with him, “ said Brian. “They’d rather face eviction, than go against his wishes.”
              Andy then said, “I’d give anything to know what Clifford really has hidden inside that bedroom! It’s gotta be something illegal in there, for him to react that way.”
              “Believe me,” said Steve, “if their apartment had been within my jurisdiction, I’d have seen about possibly obtaining a search warrant. In fact, while we were there, the thought of contacting the local authorities had even crossed my mind. But, unless Clifford’s family can be persuaded to see reason, that’s the final step their landlord will be forced to take.”
              Still munching on his pizza slice, Brian said, “Like we were discussing earlier, Dude…we should’ve just kicked the door in while we had the chance.” (“Gulp.”)
              At the conclusion of our “gourmet meal” at the pizza restaurant, I briefly stepped outside into the parking lot for a breath of fresh air, and to clear my mind just a little. As Jason had told us, we’d all put in our best, and in that we could rest assured. Soon we’d all be back home with our families, with an interval to rejuvenate ourselves before our next upcoming case…whatever that may turn out to be.
              Suddenly, I heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching me from behind. Swiftly turning, I recognized the figure of sound man Frank, hurrying toward me with a look of consternation on his face. Before I had the chance to ask him what was wrong, Frank touched my left arm and asked me, “Keith…just before we left the house, who did the family give that container of Chinese food to? Was it you, or your brother Carl??”
              “Well, it was Carl,” I replied.
              Without another word, Frank turned and dashed off in the opposite direction, in search of Carl.

              THE REVEAL
              Three days later, Jason and Grant, along with the film crew, returned to Pine Hills in Lewiston. When they were seated at the kitchen table with Marguerite, Leo, Clifford and Lisa, both Jason and Grant told the family how good it was to see them again. “It’s nice to see you fellas again, too,” Leo said affably.
              Marguerite asked, “Where’s everybody else this time?”
              Jason explained, “Well, this is just the reveal, where we share our findings with you. If it were an actual investigation like the last time we were, then we’d naturally have the rest of the team with us.”
              “Oh, I see,” said Marguerite.
              Grant then told the family, “So, we’ve reviewed our findings, and as Jason has just explained, we’re here to go over them with you. First of all, I’d like to ask you people how things have been here, since our last investigation which took place three days ago.”
              Marguerite answered, “Oh, things seem to have quieted down quite a bit here; we haven’t experienced anything at all for the past few days…not even at night.”
              Leo added, “It seems you guys really took care of the problem, and we really appreciate all that you did!”
              “Yes, thank you, very much,” Lisa added with a smile.
              “You’re entirely welcome,” said Grant. “That’s what we’re here for. And Marguerite, how have you been feeling?”
              “Oh, quite well, I’ve gotten most of my energy back by now,” she replied.
              “And how are you doing with the spiritual oppression you were experiencing?” Grant asked her. “Have you experienced any more of those attacks, where you feel your personality’s been taken over?”
              “No, not at all,” said Marguerite. “Ever since Keith prayed over me the other day, I’ve been feeling so much better. It seems that evil spirit, or whatever it was, is really gone from me now.”
              “Well, I’m very glad to hear that, Marguerite,” said Grant. “Keith really knows what he’s doing, and he and his brother Carl have been with us a long time. Now, as far as our other findings are concerned, we did manage to pick up some rather high readings on our Electro Magnetic Field detectors, both in the basement, and in the upstairs hallway…particularly right outside the padlocked bedroom door.”
              Jason then said, “As I’m sure you’re all aware, the main problem is that we couldn’t properly complete our investigation of the entire apartment…or Keith’s blessing of your home…because of Clifford keeping that bedroom closed off. This being the case, I’m afraid we’ll have to rule our findings as inconclusive.”
              Turning to Clifford, Grant said pointedly, “I’m going to ask you outright, Clifford…what is it that you’re concealing in that room?”
              Nervously, Clifford replied, “Uh, n-nothing. I’m not concealing anything in there.”
              “So what’s in there? Why keep it locked?” asked Grant.
              “It’s…it’s just like I told you before,” said Clifford. “There’s nothing in there but some clutter…an’ some boxes of junk, mostly old magazines. I just keep it locked, so the evil spirits which are in there won’t be released.”
              “Alright, Clifford,” said Grant, “I’m going to appeal to you one last time, and to the rest of your family as well, to allow us into that bedroom. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then there should be no problem. And as Jason, myself, Steve and Keith have already explained to you, no evil spirits are going to attack you for opening that door. I can guarantee, that’s something that’s all in your mind. So…what do you say?”
              Now beginning to hyperventilate once again, Clifford replied, “I-I’m sorry, guys, but…but I just don’t feel I’m ready for that yet. But I-I had an appointment with my new doctor yesterday afternoon, an’ she might wanna put me on some new medication…s-so maybe next time I can do it. But not now.”
              “Final answer?” asked Grant.
              “Y-Yeah…final answer,” Clifford panted. Apologetically, he added, “Sorry, guys.”
              “That’s all right, it’s cool,” Grant told him. Glancing around at the others, he asked, “And how do the rest of you feel about this?”
              Following an awkward moment of silence, Marguerite spoke for the rest of her family: “We’ll, it’s up to how Clifford feels about it. As you can see, it would obviously terribly upset him.”
              “Yes, it would, “ Lisa agreed.
              Leo remained silent, and appeared somewhat befuddled.
              With a shrug, Grant told them, “Good enough. That’s your decision, and we respect that.”
              (With a sweep of his hand, Clifford wiped away the perspiration, which had begun to bead on his forehead.)
              Jason added, “Of course, this being the case, we can’t give you any guarantees that whatever entities which may have resided here are completely gone. But, then again, there are few absolutes in this field of investigation, anyway.”
              “In the meantime,” said Grant, “as both Keith and Carl explained to you, the best possible way to prevent the activity from reoccurring, is to maintain a positive atmosphere within your home. Work together as a family as much as possible, to lend each other support.”
              “We will”, Marguerite assured Jason and Grant. “And once again, I’d like to thank you and the rest of your people, for all you’ve done for us.”
              Leo added, “Yes, thank you all so much! And just remember, you’re all welcome back here to visit us, anytime!”
              “You’re entirely welcome,” said Grant. “And we just may take you up on that offer sometime.”
              “If you need anything at all,” said Jason, “just give us a call. Okay?”
              “Will do, young fella!” said Leo.
              Lisa added, “Yes, and be sure to keep in touch with us.”
              After the cameras were turned off, Clifford asked Jason and Grant, “So, you guys said that you got some high readings while you were in the cellar, right?”
              “That’s right,” said Jason.
              Sounding somewhat anxious, Clifford told them, “Y’know, that’s where the psychic we had over here said that body’s buried…so there might still be something there. I-I mean, I still don’t like to go down there by myself.”
              Grant reminded him, “Well, you know, Clifford, both Keith and I did a thorough spiritual cleansing in the cellar, the last time we were here. If anything, I’d be concerned about the bedroom upstairs, which you wouldn’t allow us access to. But, as I said, that’s entirely your call.”
              Lisa then asked, “So anyway, when can we expect to see this episode? You said the show starts sometime in mid-October, right?”
              “Yes, that’s correct,” replied Jason. “Although I’m not exactly certain when this particular episode will air, we’re hopefully shooting for the premiere episode to be aired on Wednesday evening, October 6th.”
              “Great!” said Clifford. “I’m really lookin’ forward to it!”

              During the drive out of Lewiston, with Jason behind the wheel of the TAPS van and Grant in the passenger’s seat, Jason commented, “Well…this has to fall under the category of one of the most bizarre cases we’ve ever been involved with. We certainly didn’t find much in the way of concrete evidence, which is what it seems the family was hoping for.”
              “I agree, they were really looking for us to provide verification of paranormal activity,” said Grant. “As Carl likes to say, the ‘Holy Grail’ would be finding a full bodied apparition. Unfortunately, that just didn’t happen here.”
              “Also, you have to take into account that there’s undoubtedly mental illness involved in this situation, which complicates matters,” said Jason. “One thing I intentionally avoided mentioning to the family, was their impending eviction. And the primary reason for their eviction, is their stubborn refusal to go against Clifford’s wishes about that locked bedroom. Let me ask you something, Grant. Did you get the impression that the entire family is frightened of Clifford?”
              “Honestly, yes, I do,” said Grant. “In fact, I get the impression that they’re just as terrified of opposing Clifford – this includes his girlfriend, Lisa - as Clifford is of someone going inside that bedroom.”
              “Yeah…that’s exactly my impression, too,” said Jason. “Unfortunately, there’s obviously just no way of getting through to Clifford about this. He’s definitely an unstable character, and he won’t see reason.”
              “Well anyway,” said Grant, “if nothing changes in their situation, then in a few weeks it’ll be out of their hands entirely. Clifford can’t prevent the bedroom door from being opened, if he and his family have been evicted from the premises.”
              Turning off an exit ramp, which led to the main highway, Jason said, “I don’t know, Grant, this whole situation gives me an uneasy feeling. Not just with Marguerite’s alleged possession, which Keith seems to have helped her with. And don’t get me wrong, both she and Leo seem to be very nice people. But then, there’s this business about the sister being murdered, and then the medical examiner meeting with foul play as well. And in between the first investigation back in January and now, the other son violently meets his end.”
              “I hear ya,” said Grant. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what develops from here.”
              “In the meantime, as least the family seems to have been put at ease, for now,” said Jason. “And that’s the important thing, knowing that we all did our best, to give them some measure of reassurance.”
              “Yep,” Grant agreed. “When all’s said and done, that’s what it’s all about.”
              Several days later, my brother Carl received a telephone call from Clifford’s girlfriend, Lisa. “Oh, hi Lisa,” he greeted her. “How’s everything been going there?”
              Lisa explained, “Well, as you probably can guess, the landlord’s really been pressuring us, for Clifford to unlock that bedroom upstairs so the inspectors can do a complete full house inspection.”
              “Yes,” said Carl, “you must really be getting down to the wire by now. I hope with this ultimatum of unlocking the bedroom or facing eviction, Clifford will finally be persuaded to see reason.”
              “Oh, no, Marguerite and Leo are planning to fight it in court,” Lisa informed him.
              “What, the eviction?” asked Carl.
              “No, the inspection,” Lisa lightheartedly replied. “We figure that if we can prove in court that the apartment is haunted, then Clifford won’t be forced to unlock the bedroom door.”
              “Uh…Lisa…just how to you intend to prove in court that the apartment is haunted?” Carl asked her.
              Almost cheerfully, Lisa said, “That’s where you and your brother Keith come in. You see, we’ll need you both to testify at the hearing, that the apartment is haunted. So then, hopefully, they’ll leave Clifford alone about opening the bedroom door once and for all.”
              Patiently, Carl explained to her, “Well, Lisa, I can tell you right now, that what you’re asking is an impossibility. No court is going to accept an alleged ‘haunting’ as legal grounds for denying a required property inspection.”
              “Well, you and Keith did get proof of the haunting while you were here, didn’t you?” she asked.
              “Keith did get what seems to be a brief EVP on tape,” said Carl. “But what little evidence we did get is ambiguous, at best. Certainly no court of law is going to accept that as proof of a haunting, Lisa.”
              “Well, that’s it then,” Lisa persisted. “All Keith has to do is play the tape of the EVP, and then you and he will both testify that the place is haunted.”
              Finding this almost humorous, Carl advised her, “Lisa, I suggest to speak with whatever attorney will be representing Marguerite and Leo and Clifford, and hopefully the attorney can impress upon you that this is just not feasible. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we just can’t make a trip up there and testify on Clifford’s behalf.”
              “Well, I’m gonna get in touch with Keith, and see what he says about it,” Lisa told him.

              Later that same day, I also received telephone call from Clifford’s girlfriend Lisa, who asked me what evidence I had from our two investigations at Pine Hills. “Well, there’s of course that photo of Sondra, with the large aquamarine colored orb which appeared on the back of her neck,” I told Lisa. “And that one EVP, which is also from our first visit. It’s unclear exactly what it says, but it’s audible.”
              “That’s great!” said Lisa. “Like I was telling Carl, all we need you to do now is appear in court here in Lewiston, and when they ask you to testify, just show them the picture of Sondra and play the EVP, to prove that the apartment is haunted. Then they won’t force Clifford into opening the bedroom door.”
              “Uh, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work that way, Lisa,” I informed her. “A orb in a photo would not be considered tangible evidence in court, and neither would an EVP, even if it were perfectly clear. I mean, haven’t any of you discussed this with a lawyer as yet?”
              “Well, actually, you’d be sticking up for Clifford,” said Lisa.
              “Say, what??” I asked. “But, I’m certainly not a lawyer, Lisa, by any stretch of the imagination! You’d better talk to Leo and Marguerite and Clifford, about having a lawyer appointed to represent them.”
              “Oh, yes, well, they would actually have a lawyer, I’m sure,” Lisa clarified. “But, the lawyer will be calling both you and Carl up to testify that you investigated the apartment, and that you know for a fact that it’s haunted.”
              “If only it were that simple, Lisa,” I said. “Unfortunately, it’s not. Even George and Kathy Lutz were unable to produce any proof of what they’d experienced, when they fled the Amityville house in January of 1976. And they went through a number of legal battles afterwards.”
              “Really? I didn’t know that,” said Lisa.
              “And then, some years later, there was a murder case which took place in Connecticut, where the defendant was supposedly under demonic possession. Ed and Lorraine Warren became involved in this case.”
              “Who are Ed and Lorraine Warren?” asked Lisa.
              “They’re two very well-known paranormal investigators who live in Connecticut, and who also investigated the Amityville house,” I explained. “Ed’s also recognized as a Demonologist by the Catholic Church, and he and Lorraine are personal friends of mine. Anyway, in this murder case in Connecticut, Ed was called to testify as an expert witness, since he and Lorraine were personally involved in the investigation. As a Demonologist, Ed was supposed to help prove that the defendant was ‘not guilty, by reason of demonic possession.’ They were actually hoping to set a legal precedence in this case. Unfortunately, the court refused to allow any paranormal testimony into the defense proceedings.”
              “Oh, I see, “ said Lisa. “But, at least you have the EVP, and the picture of Sondra with the orb you can show in court, too.”
              With a sigh, I told her, “Well, Lisa…all I can advise you, is to speak to the lawyer who’s representing Clifford and his family in their eviction case. I’m sure he tell you pretty much the same thing as I just explained to you.”
              The following day I received another telephone call from Lisa. This time, she informed me, “So, a lawyer from here in Lewiston will probably be calling you soon, asking about the evidence you found of a haunting in Marguerite’s apartment.”
              “Why, have you people spoken to a lawyer about this yet?” I asked.
              “No, but after we speak with one, he’ll most probably be calling you,” said Lisa.
              “Well, you know, Lisa, as Carl and I have both explained to you, no reasonable lawyer is even going to take paranormal evidence into consideration,” I reminded her. “However, I would be very interested in hearing what Leo’s and Marguerite’s lawyer has to say, once you present this to the her or him. Now, are Leo and Marguerite both in agreement about this?”
              “Oh, yes,” Lisa replied. “In fact, Marguerite’s sure that once she explains the entire situation to a lawyer, there’s no way that the housing authorities are gonna be able to evict them, and there’s no way they’ll force Clifford into opening that bedroom door. So, you can expect their lawyer to be calling in a day or two.”
              “Sure, Lisa. I’ll be waiting,” I told her indulgently.
              Not surprisingly, neither Carl or myself were ever contacted by a lawyer from Lewiston.

              A few days later in Lewiston, both Lisa and Clifford were out enjoying an afternoon walk along a familiar wooded pathway, not far away from the apartment complex. As they rounded a corner, Clifford mentioned that they happened to be approaching the exact spot where his sister’s lifeless body had been discovered some time before. Suddenly, Clifford came to an abrupt halt. Noticing that his face had taken on a peculiar expression, Lisa asked him, “Clifford? What’s wrong?”
              Instead of immediately answering, he slowly turned to face her with a somewhat wild, unsettling look to his eyes. Then, in a hoarse sounding voice, he muttered, “Lisa…don’t you ever! If you know what’s good for you…!”
              Growing alarmed, Lisa said, “Clifford! What’re you talking about?? You’re not making any sense!”
              Now trembling with rage and taking a step towards her, Clifford snarled, “You…b***h!! Don’t you ever…try to come between us! Don’t you ever!!”
              “Clifford!” Lisa exclaimed. “What the hell’s gotten into you?? For God’s sake, snap out of it!!”
              As Clifford made a grab for her, Lisa stumbled backwards, losing her balance. Although the impact of her body hitting the ground was somewhat cushioned by the accumulation of dried leaves and brush, she was nonetheless winded, and scraped on her arms. Shielding her face and attempting to gather enough breath for a scream, Lisa suddenly realized that Clifford was now simply standing there, gazing down at her. Appearing somewhat dazed and confused, Clifford pointed a shaking finger at her, and said, “It…it’s up to you, Lisa…if you wanna follow after me.” He then turned and unsteadily began trudging away from her, not bothering to look back.
              After Clifford was a relatively safe distance away, Lisa managed to gather herself up from off of the ground…and began limping away in the opposite direction, still catching her breath. Since she was not exactly a slight-framed woman, she’d hit the ground rather hard, and could now feel the bruises and scrapes on her arms and back. Picking the leaves from her disheveled hair as she continued on, and wiping away the tears which were blurring her vision, Lisa promised herself that from now on…no matter what…she would no longer support or defend Clifford, in his obsession over the locked bedroom door!

              The day following the eviction of Marguerite, Leo and Clifford from their former apartment, Lisa agreed to meet with two of the housing inspectors, to assist in gathering whatever remaining items the family might have left behind. While Lisa went around from room to room throughout the apartment, gathering up various items and stuffing whatever would fit into the cardboard storage boxes she’d brought along with her, the two agents from the housing authority thoroughly did their job of inspecting the basement and the entire downstairs area.
              When it came time for them to inspect the upstairs area of the apartment, one of the two inspectors approached Lisa and asked, “Uh, excuse me, Lisa…you wouldn’t happen to have a key for that infamous upstairs bedroom door, would you?”
              “No, I’m afraid not,” she politely replied. “Clifford never gave me, or any member of his family a key. He had the only one.”
              “Why am I not surprised?” the inspector said with a smirk. Turning to his associate, he said, “Hey, Mike…it looks like we’re gonna have to wind up cutting that stupid lock after all.”
              “Yeah, I figured as much,” said Mike, as he headed towards the door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
              A moment later, Mike returned from their truck with a large pair of metal cutters in his hand. “All set, Joe,” he said to his associate.
              Turning to Lisa, Joe told her, “Uh, Lisa, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna ask you to come upstairs with us for this. Just in case we find any personalized items you or the family might want.”
              “A-Alright,” she replied, in a slightly nervous tone of voice. “I don’t think there will be anything, but…hey, ya never know.”
              “Thanks. We appreciate it,” Joe said expressionlessly.
              The two inspectors then began making their way up the staircase, with Lisa following close behind.
              When they’d reached the top of the stairs, Mike turned to the locked bedroom door, and announced, “We might as well get this over with now. That okay with you, Joe?”
              “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” Joe agreed.
              After positioning the metal cutters against the lock, Mike paused just long enough to face Lisa and ask, “You sure you got no idea what’s in this room? I mean, Clifford never mentioned anything to you?”
              “No,” replied Lisa, having to clear her throat. “No, like I already told everyone…Clifford never discussed it with me, an’ he wouldn’t even let me ask him about it.”
              With a hint of drama to his voice, Mike said, “Well…we’re sure as hell gonna find out. Stand back, Lisa.”
              After taking a deep breath, Mike gave a forceful heave on the metal cutter handles, obviously hoping to make a quick, clean cut on the first try. Failing to accomplish this, he then tightened his grip on the handles, and began twisting back and forth, while wincing with the effort. “Son-of-a…!” he hissed through his clenched teeth.
              Suddenly, the lock finally gave way with a loud PLINK! and clattered to the floor, causing Lisa to involuntarily jump back a step further.
              “Ah…there!” said Mike, taking a few seconds to regain his breath. “Well…here goes.” As Lisa held her own breath, she and Joe watched as Mike then turned the doorknob, and pushed. The hinges gave an ominous sounding creak, as the door slowly swung open.
              As Mike peered into the room and did a visual sweep, Joe asked him, “Well, Mike…anything hazardous in there, that you can see?”
              “Uh, no, nothing hazardous,” Mike replied, taking a step into the room. “It just sorta’ stinks in here…real musty, y’know? Not surprising, considering how long this bedroom must’ve been kept closed up.”
              Mike then stepped into the bedroom all the way, followed by his partner Joe, and lastly by Lisa. Inside was a bed frame with an old, somewhat stained mattress, upon which rested a few cardboard boxes, which had been set there in no particular order. Upon being inspected, these boxes were found to contain nothing more than old magazines…long outdated issues of National Geographic, Time Magazine, TV Guide, Playboy, etc.. Strewn upon the floor in a haphazard manner were several other cardboard boxes, also containing stacks of outdated magazines as well as some old, musty clothes, both male and female attire. In the one large bedroom closet were several empty coat hangers as well as a few upon which were hung some old men’s sweaters and shirts. The once white curtains on the bedroom window were covered with dust and cobwebs, the drawn shade yellowed and cracked, yet both were intact.
              ‘Whew!” said Joe, brushing a hand in front of his face. “You’re right, Mike, it does stink in here. All I can smell is mold and mildew. It’s not exactly a healthy atmosphere in here.”
              “This rooms sure gonna need a lot of cleaning and disinfecting, before it’s habitable again,” Mike commented. “Let’s see if the light switch still works.” He then reached over and switched on the ceiling light, thereby dispelling some of the gloom within the bedroom. “At least that still works,” he said, quickly wiping the residue of grime from his fingertips against his trousers.
              Dropping onto his hands and knees, Joe took a look underneath the bed. Along with the anticipated accumulation of dust mounds, there were a few scattered magazines and newspapers under the bed as well. “Just more of the same exact crap underneath there,” said Joe, pushing himself back up into a standing position and brushing the dust from his work clothes.
              After thoroughly scrutinizing the entire bedroom, the two housing authority inspectors found nothing, which could have been construed as occult related symbols or paraphernalia. With a chuckle, Joe commented to his partner, “Y’know…I almost half expected to find some sort of devil worship alter in here, or at least some signs of witchcraft, like a stuffed raven or something.” Turning to Lisa, he asked, “Well, Lisa, do you see anything in here you think you might want to take with you?”
              With her hand placed over her nose, Lisa replied, “No thanks. Everything in here looks an’ smells so cruddy anyway…I feel like I’m about to gag as it is.”
              “Don’t blame ya there, kid,” said Joe with his hands on his hips. After glancing around the musty bedroom one last time, he looked at Mike and said, “Well, if there was a bunch of spirits in this room, they must’ve gotten bored and left by now. I suggest we go through the rest of the upstairs rooms, and then wrap things up here. It seems all that’s left to do now, is completely clean the place up, slap on a fresh coat of paint here and there, and get it ready for the next tenants to move in.”
              With a “spooky” wave of his hands, Mike said, “And hopefully, they won’t be kept awake at night by the ghosts in here! Heh-heh-heh!” He then said to Lisa, “So, thanks for agreeing to be here today, Lisa, and for coming upstairs here with us. Uh, are you all set for your ride, or could we give you a lift?”
              “ thanks,” she replied. “My grandmother should be here to pick me up any minute now. In fact, she’s probably already waiting out there in the parking lot for me now. But, thanks anyway.”
              “No problem,” said Mike. “Hey, and good luck, Lisa. Just let us know if you need help with any of those boxes, and we’ll give you a hand.”
              “Okay. Thanks again, guys,” Lisa said with a slightly awkward giggle.

              Seated in the parlor of the new apartment, which he and his family had recently moved into, Clifford glanced over at the expensive bureau, which he’d removed from the locked upstairs bedroom of the former apartment. Just prior to the eviction, he’d also seen to it that the practically unused television set had also been removed, along with a few semi-expensive items of furniture. And then, he’d re-padlocked the bedroom door, leaving only the boxes of old magazines and the musty discarded clothes. A-yeah…those stupid housing inspectors would never even suspect, that there’d ever been anything at all of value in that room, or that anyone had even entered it!
              Of course, Clifford also knew for certain that the spirits, which were once contained within that room, had now moved beyond the confines of that apartment altogether. In fact, now that he and his family were no longer living there, these spirits had moved out to join the others that dwelt in that wooded area, along the path where his sister had been killed. He’d distinctly heard the growling coming from the woods in that area, on more than one occasion. Oh, they were still there, alright. After all, hadn’t they been trying to lure him in, every time he’d taken a walk by that area? And it was probably only a matter of time, until these evil spirits claimed another life!

              Having examined the copy of the newspaper article, which Clifford had given me, I could strangely find nothing in any of the columns specifically pertaining to the death of his sister, nor of the local medical examiner. Assuming that he’d been in too much of a haste to pass a copy to me before I left and that he’d simply handed me the wrong section, I figured that perhaps I could always ask him for a complete copy sometime in the future.
              On a Thursday morning about a week after Marguerite and her family had settled into their new apartment in Lewiston, I received a pleasant telephone call from her. She was in a cheerful frame of mind, and very excited that she'd just seen the previews for the “Possession Episode” at the end of “Ghost Hunters” the night before. With a laugh, she told me, “I saw myself on television saying to you, ‘I hate you!’, and I looked and sounded so mean! But I want you to know that of course I don’t really hate you! You did so much to help us.”
              Laughing as well, I assured her, “Of course I know you don’t really hate me, Marguerite! In fact, at the time, you didn’t really seem to be speaking in your normal frame of mind anyway.”
              “Well, I certainly don’t remember saying that to you,” she said with a chuckle. “But I guess I did, since I saw it on TV.”
              “But, you’ve been basically okay since then?” I asked. “No relapses, where you feel as though your personality’s being invaded, or taken over?”
              “Oh, no, not at all, not since the last time you were there at the other place with us,” she replied. “And again, I want to thank you and everyone else who helped us out, so much! Now all we have to worry about is our money situation, of course, and everything that goes along with moving into a new place. It’s somewhat smaller than the last apartment.”
              “Yes, I know what a hassle it is, having to adjust to a new place,” I sympathized. “My wife and my son and I once moved five times in a span of four years, here in Rhode Island.”
              “Oh, so I guess you do know what it’s like!” said Marguerite. “So anyway, we’re all really looking forward to seeing that episode with us on next week. In fact, we’re even inviting family over to watching it with us! We’d like for our story to be told, the way it really happened. And don’t forget, all of you also have an open invitation to come up and visit with us at our new place here anytime. And be sure to bring your lovely wife back with you this time!”
              “We certainly will, Marguerite, the next time we get into that area,” I assured her. “And please be sure to say hi to everyone there from us. God bless!”
              “God bless you too, Keith,” she said.


              After examining the copy of the article, which Clifford had given me prior to our departure from Lewiston, I could strangely find nothing pertaining to either the death of his sister, or to the subsequent demise of the local medical examiner. The most likely explanation for this, seemed to be that in his haste before we left, Clifford had simply passed the wrong section of the copy to me. At least, I figured I could probably obtain the missing section at a later date, provided that Clifford actually possessed a complete copy of the entire article.
              Throughout the ensuing year following our last visit to Lewiston, Marguerite and her family kept in occasional contact with both Carl and myself. Lisa kept in communication with us as well, although her relationship with Clifford had ended shortly after our investigation. Not unexpectedly, all of them were acutely disappointed that the episode of “Ghost Hunters” in which they were featured was never aired, although they’d twice seen it advertised.
              All throughout this time, Marguerite Roy never experienced a reoccurrence of her presumed demonic oppression/possession.
              In late June of 2005, Marguerite began to complain of a general weakness, combined with abdominal discomfort. After undergoing a series of medical tests, she was diagnosed with colon cancer, which was apparently already in an advanced stage. In July, she was admitted into a local nursing home to recover from cancer treatments. After a little over a week, Marguerite had begun regaining much of her strength, as well as her appetite, and near the end of the second week, her overall condition had improved to the point where she was ready to be discharged. On August the 1st, the evening before Marguerite was to return home, her husband Leo and her son Clifford came to visit with her as usual, and found her sitting up in bed, laughing and joking with everyone about how anxious she was to return home. She even announced that she had a craving for Chinese food. Leo and Clifford promptly left for Chinese take-out, promising to be back as soon as they could, so they could all celebrate together her last night in the nursing facility together.
              However, when Leo and Clifford arrived back at the facility scarcely forty-five minutes later, they were regrettably informed by the staff that Marguerite had suddenly and quite unexpectedly gone into cardiac arrest, and passed away. Her death at age 74 had been very quick and tranquil, and she had not suffered.

              [B] THE END [\B]
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