Deliver Us from Evil (23 page)

The night before the exorcism, the Ramseys were staying in a Connecticut hotel. Relieved that her husband's ordeal might soon be over, Nina Ramsey slept soundly, then woke in the wee hours of the night to a chilling sound. Although Bill was asleep, the demon wasn't. A loud growl reverberated through Bill's body, then his hands reached for Nina. She tried to escape, but the brute moved even faster. Filled with superhuman strength, Bill overpowered her. But just as his hands wrapped around her throat, Nina found the ultimate antidote to demonic hate. “Bill, I love you,” she whispered bravely. Her words seemed puny compared to Bill's incessant growls, but their effect was potent: He released her and made the same appeal Greg had left on my answering machine: “Help me!”

During the exorcism, Bill's face twisted into a horrible grimace of rage. His hands clawed at the air in front of him, as if he wanted to rip at Bishop McKenna and stop the prayers that were tormenting the demon inside him. When the exorcist held up a crucifix, the carpenter lunged at him, snarling furiously. Although many possessed people have tried to attack the bishop, he's never been injured during an exorcism. I'll tell you why: He's one of the living saints and wears his holiness around him like a bulletproof vest to deflect evil. The demonic brute was no match for the pious bishop, and Bill was finally freed of the demon that had enslaved him.

*   *   *

I prepared for Greg's exorcism the same way I always do. In the Scriptures, Jesus tells us that some demons can be exorcised only through prayer and fasting. The “black fast” is mainly for the exorcist, but I feel it doesn't hurt if the assistants do it too. Prayer is a must before an exorcism. I can never emphasize this enough to people. As a Catholic, I believe that to really worship God, you also need to show a devotion to the Virgin Mary. I pray the rosary every day, whether I have a case or not. I like to walk around while I'm praying, so I sometimes stroll around my neighborhood early in the morning, after I get off patrol, with my rosary in hand. It's very peaceful at this time. Even though I live in the city, one morning I saw a mother raccoon and her babies when I finished my prayers. Since I love animals, it was like a blessing for me to enjoy the sight of these charming creatures of God.

When I pray the rosary, I don't ask for any special favors. I just offer my prayers up to God to use as He sees fit. But before an exorcism, I offer them up to Him for the person who is possessed. Great miracles have happened by showing devotion to the Mother of God and the holy saints. This is the mercy of God because He knows each of us better than we know ourselves. He gave us His Son, Jesus Christ, who became a man and was nailed to the cross for us. This happened in front of his mother, whose suffering must have been unimaginable. Jesus gave us all the Virgin Mary as our mother that day on Calvary, even as he was dying on the cross for us, which is why I pay her tribute and hope her intervention will help the person who is suffering on this earth from possession.

*   *   *

On the way to Greg's exorcism, I prayed again for its success. Since Joe and I knew we would be up against a demonic brute, we made sure to have plenty of strong assistants at hand. Greg was about five foot ten and 185 pounds. There were eight of us to keep him under control: Joe and myself, Phil, Scott, Ritchie, John, and Joe Z. and his wife, Donna. All of us were as big or bigger than Greg. Joe and I both have martial arts training—and Scott is a karate champion—though we have never had to use it during an exorcism. I also felt good about our spiritual strength. As Jesus said, “When two or more people are gathered together in My name, I am with them.”

For our safety, Greg consented to wear a straitjacket. If he hadn't agreed, I don't think any of us in the church that day would have wanted to be there, because this was one nasty, dangerous demon. We secured him as tightly as possible, carefully fastening the straps, then tied a thick nylon rope around his ankles to further immobilize him. He sat quietly on the front pew. He knew from past experience that he could go berserk at any moment, even though that wasn't his true nature. He told us to do whatever we thought best: He just wanted the nightmare to end.

Lucinda was extremely nervous and practically quivering from the strain. Stress was written all over her face. She had no idea what was about to take place, since Joe and I tell people as little as possible about an upcoming exorcism, so as not to influence their reactions in any way. Like Greg, she just wanted to be done with this ordeal. Anxiously she asked me what would happen if the exorcism
didn't
work. “This is my last hope for a normal life with the man I love,” she emphasized. I just told her to put her faith in God. What else could I say? I couldn't make any guarantees, much as I would have liked to. She gave her husband a kiss, quickly wiped the purplish lipstick print off his cheek, and took her seat at a side pew.

As usual, the bishop began the ceremony with the Litany of the Saints, where he calls upon each and every saint to pray with us. During the litany, Greg quickly began to shake and sweat, then lost consciousness. Joe and I had seen this before, but never at such an early stage of the exorcism. The bishop hadn't even addressed the demon yet, but it already was here—and ready to fight.

The evil spirit gave its battle cry: Low, throaty rumbles that seemed to come from everywhere in Greg's body. They didn't sound human or wolfish but like the roars of some unknown beast. The bishop was so intent on the litany, which he recites facing the altar, with his back to the possessed person, that it took him a moment to notice the ghastly roaring.

Whirling around and striding toward Greg with the asp (a sprinkler for holy water used in Catholic churches) in hand, the exorcist threw holy water at him and roared, “Be quiet, Devil!”

Incredibly, Greg started to raise his arm in a threatening gesture, despite the sturdy restraints around him. Scott, who had been present during many exorcisms, seized him, and the rest of us piled out of our seats to help. Even with seven large men holding him down, the contractor actually broke out of the straitjacket, stood to his full height, and let out an even more terrifying roar.

The straitjacket was hanging loosely from Greg's shoulders. After a furious struggle, during which we all marveled at Greg's inhuman strength, his body suddenly went completely rigid, a frequent occurrence during exorcisms. He became as stiff and heavy as iron, and leaned to the left with such extraordinary force that all eight of us were catapulted in that direction.

The sound of metal ripping flooded the small chapel. Greg was tearing the pew from its moorings, even though it was bolted to the floor. We tried with all our might to push Greg back into his seat, but it was impossible. The bishop gave several vigorous shakes of the asp, sprinkling holy water on Greg in an attempt to subdue the demon.

“In the name of Jesus Christ, be still, Devil!”

The evil spirit grudgingly obeyed, and we soon had Greg back in his seat, firmly under control.

Once during an exorcism of a woman, I had a unidirectional microphone on a ledge behind the pew. After a fierce struggle, she managed to grab the mike. I attempted to pry her fingers off it but couldn't so I sprinkled some holy water on her hands. She immediately let go. Such is often the power of holy water against the demonic. The bishop continued with the exorcism but had barely finished his first prayer, when Greg stirred gently as if he were waking up. His lips moved.

Instead of a growl, two soft words came out. “It's gone!” The large man bent over and burst into tears. Through his sobs, he murmured in an awestruck tone. “It's really gone! I don't feel it inside me anymore!”

This had to be the shortest exorcism on record: five minutes. To make sure this wasn't some ruse of the demon to stop the ceremony, the bishop continued with the full ritual. Greg cried throughout, repeating over and over “It's gone! I'm OK!”

Why did the evil spirit leave so quickly? Although it had been inside this man for many years, it was a low-level demon, a brute that gave up the fight easily. With no strength to stand up to the forces of good, it fled the same way it came, like a thief in the night. I could see the change in this man: His face no longer wore an expression of bewilderment and fear but one of joyous surprise.

It was a very touching scene for all of us. After a quarter of a century, the curse of lycanthropy was finally lifted from this man's shoulders. Still weeping, Greg thanked us—and God—for his freedom, then ran to embrace his wife. Arm-in-arm, they walked out of the chapel, and I prayed they'd find the happiness that had eluded them for so long.

Outside the church, I asked Lucinda to call me in a few days and let me know how things were going. When she did call, a week later, she was worried. “Greg is very depressed. Do you think this is a sign of anything?”

I told her that was a
normal
reaction. After a person is possessed, he's never quite the same again. You can't be touched by evil and go back to the way you were. Just as assistants, Joe and I lose a little piece of our humanity at each exorcism, so you can be damned sure that a demon that has been inside someone for twenty-five years is going to take something with it when it leaves!

While most people do heal in time, it's common for them to experience posttraumatic stress, just as you would if you were released after a long prison sentence. Your mind can't help but remember your time in the cell with fear and feel anxious about a future of freedom. It's a huge adjustment. I wish I knew a therapist I could send people to after an exorcism for religion-based counseling. I'll always be there for them if they choose to call, but it's not my policy to reach out to them. I feel it's best for former victims of possession to think about their ordeal as little as possible for two reasons: They avoid giving the demon recognition that might draw it back into their life and they help themselves move on.

I gave Lucinda my usual prescription for postexorcism depression, which usually fades with time: prayer and a more spiritual lifestyle. She told me they'd started going to church and were praying frequently. I promised to pray for them too. That Christmas my prayers were answered. I received a card from Lucinda, saying “Greg seems to be doing fine. We are attending church regularly and look forward to it every Sunday. Our lives are slowly returning to normal. As you know, this thing was with us for twenty-five years, and I still get very nervous thinking of the terror we survived. Thank God, and Bishop McKenna, that it's finally over.”

 

9

DABBLERS IN THE DAMNED

Two of my investigations took place in the same neighborhood in Queens, and involved people who literally had neighbors from Hell—of both human and inhuman varieties. This middle-class area, which was within walking distance of the apartment my family and I lived in at the time, is home to hard-working people of many ethnic backgrounds, predominately Italian, Irish, German, Jewish, and Hispanic. The tree-lined streets have a mix of small apartment buildings and two- or three-family homes.

In the first case, a family of four was plunged into life-threatening danger after they rented the basement apartment in their home to the wrong people. The new tenants
looked
respectable enough: The husband and wife were gray-haired financial planners in their fifties, who lived with their grown children. But, as Nina and Marco Salvatore soon discovered, this well-dressed family, who frequently entertained groups of equally well-dressed guests, had an unsuspected dark side: They turned out to be practicing Satanists.

The father of this family also had a cocaine problem—and a disturbing habit. While hopped up on his favorite substance, this middle-aged man liked to head over to an Episcopal chapel down the street. He wasn't there to repent of his sins. Instead, he often stood outside and shouted profanities, invoking Satan's name. Cops were called about this several times. Each time they told him to shut up and go home, which he obediently did. This strange behavior isn't typical of serious Satanists, since they usually
avoid
drawing attention to themselves. But then again, embracing evil isn't exactly normal behavior to begin with.

Shouting blasphemies outside a church wasn't this couple's only offense. They actually attempted to draw the Salvatores' fourteen-year-old son, Andrew, into their coven, much to the horror of Nina and Marco, who were devout Catholics. Even that, however, wasn't nearly as upsetting as what happened after the boy emphatically rejected the Satanists' overtures and Nina told them that if they ever bothered her son again, she'd have them arrested.

Soon after, the Salvatores were afflicted by a horrifying ordeal. The wife was friendly with one of my students, Rose, and called her. “There's something evil in my house,” Nina said. “We're all really scared. Do you think the people you're working with can help us?”

Nina explained that time and time again, she and her family would get the flesh-crawling sensation that somebody was creeping up behind them on the stairs in their home, yet when they'd whirl around, no one was there. The unseen intruder would often give them an unexpected shove, causing several near-accidents. Although the pushing occurred mainly on the stairs leading up to the second floor, it was felt throughout the house. Even the Salvatores' cats were affected by this, as animals so often are when the demonic is present; they began to avoid certain areas of the home, no matter how much they were coaxed to enter them.

By the sound of it, this was a classic case of demonic infestation that was growing more dangerous by the minute. The family's oldest son, Andrew, was almost killed on the stairs. He had almost reached the second floor when he felt a violent shove against his shins. His legs were knocked out from under him, and he went crashing down the wooden stairs feet first. His body slammed against one step after another, each collision inflicting fresh, agonizing pain.