Monday, March 15, 2010

First Child Spirit

After dealing with Kira, I was eager for the next case that would allow me to deal with children. Unfortunately, it would be nearly four months before I was able to connect with another child. This case, however, was much different: this child was the ghost instead of the child being bothered by a spirit.

Stacey* had called us several times before, but always changed her mind on having us investigate out of the fear that her neighbors would laugh at her for believing her house was haunted. In a small town, news travels fast, and the thought of the community backlash was enough to keep Stacey from following up with the team. However, we promised we would come in with just a few people and backpacks carrying our equipment, rather than our normal cases and full team. Stacey agreed, and a couple of weeks later I arrived at her house with a backpack of equipment and one of our case management members. Stacey told our case management that her son had been killed by a truck a few years ago, and ever since that time, she felt as if he was still in the house.

Stacey walked us through the upstairs hall where she told us that a rubber ball would roll down that area. She would pick it up and put it back in his room, and later it would roll back down the hall again. Walking into his room, it looked as though a young boy was still living there: the room was filled with toys, the bed neatly made, and a book lay by a large chair waiting to be read. The scene was heartbreaking, and I wondered if perhaps Stacey was simply hopeful that her son was still there.

I realized that if we rushed this investigation, Stacey would think that we just didn’t try hard enough, and, while all clients deserve answers, I knew that she would argue with me over not finding anything --- especially if we were in and out in only a couple of hours. We agreed to stay for a full overnight investigation, and got to work setting up the few pieces of equipment I had brought along.

While sitting in the child’s room, I took the ball that was said to roll down the hall and rolled it over to my case manager. He rolled it back and after a few times of doing so, I invited the child to play with us. When nothing happened, we decided to see how likely it was that the ball would roll all the way down the hall with a strong breeze; so, we opened the window. It was a particularly windy night in Northern Chicago and we figured minus a small tornado this was the strongest wind the room would probably see. The ball rolled out into the hall, hit the wall, and rolled down the hall. With no carpet on the floor, the ball quickly rolled all the way down the hall and stopped just short of the steps. Ball debunked, we moved on to trying EVP work and even provoking after several hours of the house staying silent.

With no evidence, I approached Stacey about trying some EVP work of her own. After all, children are notoriously shy around adults they don’t know and I wanted to make sure that we truly did everything possible to assure this mother that her child had moved on. Leaving the location the next morning, I sent our audio, pictures, and small amount of video to our evidence team who found nothing.

I went back to Stacey and sat down with her, mother to mother. I explained our lack of evidence and I assured her that if I lost my kid, I would hold on to the hope that they were still with me. However, we had no proof that this was true in her case; but I knew that it wouldn’t be enough for her. I gave her a digital recorder and told her that, in my opinion, EVP is the strongest form of evidence we ever get. I suggested she use it to try and speak with her son, and maybe one day she’d get the answer she was looking for --- be it actual evidence, or the ability to move on.

I followed up with Stacey several times, and she always told me she was trying, but with no luck. After a year, I called her one final time. She told me that she had put the digital recorder away; that, through therapy and a lack of evidence, she was finally able to accept that her son was gone, and was at peace.

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