Devil in the Delta (13 page)

“Someday I'm going to be rich,” she panted. “My daughter Tiffany is going to be rich and famous and I'll have it made.” I told her that she should go to sleep, that she would feel better in the morning. Then she said the words that have stuck with me ever since that night: “You know how I know all this? It's because I talk to the Devil. He said he's going to make Tiffany famous and that we're both going to be rich.”

Now Sarah isn't a bad person—and I certainly doubted that she seriously worshipped Satan—but she wasn't the brightest of individuals. Why she was saying such bizarre things was beyond me. But say these things she did—and for quite a while before finally winding down and deciding
to go to bed. At that point, she slowly got up off the floor
and made her way to the adjoining bedroom. She then asked, “Do you mind bringing the baby into the bedroom for me?”

I said that I didn't, so I picked up the entire bassinet and carried it into the bedroom. I placed it a few feet from the bed (little Tiffany was sound asleep) and left as Sarah was crawling under the covers. I then went to the couch, made myself comfortable, and fell fast asleep. The next thing I knew it was morning and there was a knock on the front door, quickly followed by screams of utter terror.

I sat up quickly on the couch trying to comprehend what was happening. The couple that was sleeping in the guest bedroom shot by me in a mad dash into the bedroom to check on Sarah. This prompted a second set of screams.

Meanwhile, the knocking on the door became frantic. So I got up and opened the front door in a hurry; it was my friend ready to take us to our job interviews. I then shot into Sarah's room to see why they were all screaming. Of course, I now wish that I hadn't.

Poor baby Tiffany was lying in her bassinet and she was blue. She had died during the night. And if this wasn't bad enough, it was the state of the child that has stuck with me for all these years. The baby was lying on her back with her back arched and her arms up in the air—almost as if she was warding off someone or reaching for something. Her little head was back and her mouth was still open as if she had been screaming or gasping for air.

As everyone tried to calm Sarah down and comfort her, I said that I would go call an ambulance. Naturally, Sarah had no phone in the trailer so I would have to go to Tara's house to call the ambulance. Since I did not want to be the one to tell Tara (or her mother) that little Tiffany was dead, I told them that the baby was unresponsive and needed an ambulance. But it was completely clear from looking at the body that the baby had been dead for a while.

My friend and I then left for our interviews as the ambulance was en route to the trailer. Once we were finished, I returned to Tara's house to find the family grieving over their loss. Sarah was a complete wreck.

We were soon informed by the police that the baby's father was going to be released from the county prison for forty-eight hours to attend the funeral and grieve, and it wasn't long before he was at the home and they were all planning the funeral for the baby. Still shook up by the whole affair, I thought it best to let the family have some alone time, so I left and went home.

The following day, I returned again to visit with Tara and found the baby's father in tears on the front porch. I asked him if he was all right, and he responded with a terrifying story. He stated that he had gone to the trailer to pick up some clothes for the baby to be buried in, along with some appropriate clothes for Sarah to wear to the funeral.

While he was gathering the items, he suddenly heard a disturbing sound: the loud cries of an infant. And they were coming from the bedroom where he was standing. He immediately dropped the clothes and fled the scene. He then asked if I would mind going over to pick up the items for him; they would be waiting where he left them in the bedroom floor of the trailer …

Reluctantly, I agreed. So I again called upon my buddy to go with me to the trailer (there was no way I was going in there alone). When we arrived, the door to the trailer was wide open. In his haste to escape, the father had not shut the door.

Cautiously, the two of us went inside and made our way to the bedroom. The clothes were right on the floor where they were supposed to be. And though we did not hear a baby crying in the trailer, we still gathered the items as quickly as we could and fled the premises as if we had.

In the weeks that followed, the horror and sorrow of the tragic death began to fade and life went on for everyone. The father went back to jail, the baby was buried, and we all tried to get past the horrific experience. As for Sarah, she could no longer stand to live in the trailer, so she moved back in with the family. It was at about this point that I started experiencing a horrible, yet persistent, recurring nightmare.

In this dream, I was reliving the events of the night that Tiffany had died: I walked Tara home, I returned to the trailer to find Sarah ranting about the Devil, and then I went to sleep on the couch. But this is where the dream threw a curveball.

Instead of sleeping soundly on the couch till the following morning, I heard the sounds of the baby crying hysterically filling the air. In my dream, I'm lying on the couch and thinking, “Why doesn't Sarah pick up the baby? Doesn't she hear her crying in there?” Then, after what seems like an eternity, the crying suddenly halts. The dream ends with the knock on the front door and Sarah's scream.

I probably don't have to tell you that this dream messed with my head. Could I have slept right through a baby crying hysterically in the adjoining room? I doubted it, but it could have been possible. I then began to feel guilty. If I had woken up, I could have picked up the baby—or at least told Sarah to do so. If, of course, this had happened at all. There was just no way to know for sure. Either way, the dream haunted me to no end.

After enduring this recurring nightmare for a week, I decided to talk to Sarah about it, even though I thought it would be a difficult conversation. The coroner had already said the baby died of “crib death,” but even hinting that the baby's death could have been prevented might open up a whole new can of bad worms.

When I approached Sarah and broached the subject of that night, I was surprised to find her almost cheerful. I asked her why she was in a good mood and was staggered yet again by a completely unexpected answer. She told me that the Devil had taken her baby away to teach her a lesson about invoking his name. He had taken Tiffany away and, according to her, now given her back to her. What?!

Apparently, the very day that Tiffany had died, Sarah had had sex with the briefly freed father of the baby. From this one union she said she was now pregnant. And according to the girl, she was pregnant once again with Tiffany, returned to her by the Devil. I, of course, was convinced Sarah had snapped and that she was in serious need of psychological counseling. And I told this very thing to Tara and her family. But guess what?

Sarah would go on to have another baby girl, she would name the new baby Tiffany, and she would tell everyone that this was her first baby reincarnated! Keep in mind that Tiffany II was conceived on the very day that Tiffany I had passed away in the early morning hours!

Even back then, in my youth, I was a logical person. I did not truly believe that the Devil had anything to do with the death of one baby or the birth of another. But I'd be lying if I said that there wasn't a nagging, small percentage of my brain that wasn't frightened by the thought of just such a thing having happened.

Now, as I was working on a case that would, potentially, have me facing something demonic again in the near future, all my old fears and experiences were rushing back to me. It would be all I could do to keep focused on the factual, logical elements of the investigation and to not obsess over the strange things that were happening at the Martin property, as well as at my own home.

[contents]

7

The Second Visit

The drive back into the Deep South wasn't any easier the second time around—even with me bringing back some interesting audio clips and a photo for Joanne to review. But after drinking a Waffle House worth of coffee, I eventually found myself pulling into the local Unitarian church's parking lot for my meeting with our house-blesser, Frank, the Unitarian minister from Alabama.

After discussing the particulars of the Martin case with Frank via email, he had thought it best if we met outside the Martin household prior to his arrival. This would give him the chance to check out the evidence I had gathered, as well as to hear some firsthand tales from Terri and her crew. Frank would also have the opportunity to run down what he had in mind for his visit to the trailer.

The minister met me at the door of the church with a smile and, once we were past the hellos and pleasantries, I briefed him on what, exactly, he would be getting into at the Martin house. He never blinked an eye as I detailed the environment and situation at the residence.

I watched him closely as I described the questionable living conditions, the myriad paranormal experiences, and gave a rather vivid depiction of the residents. His expression never changed. When I pointed out that he seemed rather calm about all the information that I was feeding him, he simply said, “I preach in Alabama. I've seen it all.”

It was only a few moments later when the members of the Mississippi team arrived at the church, so soon we all sat down to look at the evidence I had gathered during my first evening at the trailer.

It was kind of fun to watch the expressions on the minister's face change as I played the EVPs I had captured with my audio recorders. It was a mixture of surprise, intrigue, and disbelief. Pretty much what I experienced when I first heard the odd voices. When I got to the mysterious photo, however, Terri and Patricia informed me that they believed they had debunked the image.

After I had sent it to them via email, they were so excited about the photo that they had immediately revisited the trailer. They found that when they looked at an air-
conditioning unit from the angle I had taken the picture, it eerily resembled the “eyes” in the photograph. As a result, they came to the conclusion the photo didn't contain anything of a paranormal nature.

Inwardly, I was quietly relieved that there was an explanation for the photo—mostly because I didn't want to see the effect it would have on Joanne and company. She was panicked enough without having a photograph to refer to! But I would have a look at the air conditioner for myself once I got back to the trailer.

Photo aside, though, we all decided that it would probably be best for the minister to meet Joanne and her family before we investigated the trailer that evening, and then he could return to perform the house blessing the following day once he was finished with his Sunday sermon (in addition to preaching in Alabama, he worked occasionally at a local Unitarian church as well—hence the reason he was available to perform the blessing in Mississippi).

So after we were through with the obligatory briefings at the church, Terri gave Frank the same warnings about the Martin trailer that she had passed on to me prior to my first visit. Then we packed up all the gear and convoyed over to the Martin residence.

The Scene of the Crime

We arrived at the trailer to find Joanne waving at us from the driveway like we were relatives visiting for the weekend. As we parked in front of the residence, I noticed that the grass and surrounding foliage were in a terrible state and that the trailer was missing another window (I would later learn that this broken window was the result of vandalism). With a deep breath I exited the vehicle, greeted Joanne, and suggested that we all go inside to talk. This was an immediate mistake.

If it was possible, the home was in even worse condition than it was on my first visit. Apparently, shortly after my first investigation, Tim and Sarah had moved out of the trailer.

According to them, they were simply tired of dealing with the all the scary activity. And since Joanne and her two young daughters were now left alone, they too suddenly found the environment to be too frightening to live in. As a result, they had also moved out to stay with some nearby relatives.

But the worst news was yet to come: Since nobody had been living in the home for some time, Joanne had turned off the power, so we would be working entirely from battery power. This was a detail that would have been nice to have before driving down, as I could have prepared for the situation by bringing more batteries. Now I would have to be more strategic about where I placed my gear and how long I let the audio and video gear run in one location.

Furthermore, with no air conditioning or fans, the place was sweltering. Spending even a few minutes inside the massive heat-box produced rivers of sweat and induced gasps for air. There would be no way we could seriously perform an investigation during the daylight hours. We would have to wait until sundown before working inside.

I asked Joanne how often she had visited the place since she had moved out, and was told “never.” Only a cousin had been by to check—and he had done that only once. According to her, this male relative had scoffed at her claims regarding the property, so he planned to spend the night alone in the trailer. Much to her amusement, he didn't even make it until nightfall.

He reported that he had entered the residence, dropped his overnight bag, and then proceeded to look around the trailer for ghosts when he heard a loud thud. He rushed back into the living room to find that his bag had been thrown across the room. This was more than enough proof for him, so he grabbed his things and fled. He had no intention of waiting around to actually see a ghost!

As Patricia introduced Frank to Joanne, I decided to take a look at the area in front of the trailer that contained the “face” in my mysterious photo. It didn't take long to see how the air conditioner could be the phantom eyes in the photograph (there were two square areas on the side of the unit that match up with where the eyes were in the photo)—but I couldn't figure out what anything else in the photo could be.

There was clearly a tree branch in front of the figure in the photo, but any kind of material that would make the hair and beard on the figure's head was nowhere to be found. The tree branch (as well as the whole tree) that was in the photo was bereft of any leaves or branches that could be mistaken for a spirit. If the eyes were the air conditioner, then what was making up the rest of the figure's features? Suddenly I was not so sure the photo was completely debunked.

I was unsure enough of the authenticity, though, that it justified me not showing it to Joanne (I really didn't want to give her another reason to be afraid), but I would have to get some more opinions on the photograph before making a final decision. After I snapped a few new reference photos, I went back inside the trailer scratching my head.

Now that everyone had met each other, I decided to formally interview Joanne again for the minister's benefit. I also wanted to interview young Julie this time, so while Terri left to go pick her up, I switched on an audio recorder and began going over the details with Joanne again regarding the haunting of the house.

Now that I had thought about the case extensively while reviewing my footage I captured the first time around (as well as during two lengthy drives into Mississippi), I was armed with a whole new batch of fresh questions and ready to learn more about the background of this case.

More Details

Before Joanne could get too comfortable with talking to all of us, I decided I would immediately attempt to get more information about the entity “John.” Was there any reason to believe that there was such a spirit in the house other than “Tim said so”?

After a moment of deep thought, Joanne revealed more details about the family rumors that had circulated down through the years regarding the possible murder of a local black man named John. In fact, there were three such rumors. They went like this:

1. One night Joanne's grandfather was preparing for bed when he heard a commotion coming from the slaughterhouse/shed. Grabbing a gun, he went out to check on the noise and caught a black man in the act of stealing meat from the smoker. He promptly shot the intruder, who died on the spot. This could have possibly been John.
   
2. A relative once told Joanne a tale involving a vagrant who wandered onto the family property from a set of nearby train tracks. Much like the first version of the family rumor, the man was killed while trespassing. Again, this could be John.
   
3. It's possible that John was a neighbor who supposedly lived down the way. Back in the 1940s or so, telephones in the area were scarce, so John came knocking on the door of Joanne's grandfather, who lived on the property at the time, wanting to use his phone. According to this version of the story, John was promptly beaten to a pulp, taken to the shed/slaughterhouse (the place that's still barely standing in front of the trailer), and murdered. It is this version of the story that Tim claimed to have gotten during one of his possessions—adding details such as John being bound with barbed wire, his throat being cut, and his body being buried in the area behind where the original house once stood.
   

Though Joanne wasn't sure which, if any, of the stories were true, she certainly believed (thanks to Tim) that there was a John present in the home. This new information was disturbing to me on a few levels. If there was, indeed, a murder, this would have to be reported to the local authorities—even if it happened more than half a century ago. With such a sparse local population, if a man had gone missing, there was a good chance he would still have family in the area. And I was quite sure that they'd like to know what happened to him!

I asked Joanne if she even thought her grandfather was capable of such a thing. To this, she would only say that there was a history of abuse that ran through her family and that such a crime could most definitely have occurred with him or any number of her relatives that lived in the area. (Adding on to this information is the fact that the trailer's land has been in her family for over 150 years, so there had been plenty of generations of Martins living there to do such a thing.)

After hearing all this, I decided to let Frank have a moment alone with Joanne to counsel her. Speaking about her relatives seemed to upset her. While he did this, I pulled the Mississippi crew aside and mentioned that we might have to let the local police know about these rumors; Tom and Blake were friends with several officers in the sheriff's department, so they would definitely bring it up with them to see if it warranted further legal attention. This made me feel better about the situation, though I still hated the idea that there could be a family in the vicinity who was missing a loved one.

When I returned to the conversation between Frank and Joanne, they were talking about the activity she had witnessed in the trailer. I listened as she told Frank the same basic stories that we had briefed him on earlier that day. But before she could finish with her narrative, I thought this might be a good time to address another issue I had with the first investigation: the occult/magical paraphernalia scattered about the home. So I quickly interrupted their conversation and asked her straight out, “Tell me about the magic herbs and wand we found while we were here.”

With a sheepish grin, Joanne freely admitted that she had “dabbled” a bit in various sorts of religion—but, again, reiterated that she believed in almost everything. According to her, most of this dabbling occurred after the trailer was already haunted, and this was just one of the ways they had tried to cope with it. And from the way she was telling me all of this (“we tried,” “we were scared,” etc.), it was clear that she had included her daughters in these acts.

I was still digesting all this information when the front door slammed shut with a bang, startling everyone in the kitchen. A quick “Sorry!” came from the living room. Terri had returned with Julie for my interview. Frank gave a nervous laugh as the young girl was brought forth for introductions.

As Frank met with Julie for the first time, I decided to go over my audio findings from the first visit to the trailer with Joanne. I went over each audio clip with her, explaining what an EVP was and what to listen for. She nodded and smiled as each piece of evidence was presented—and I could tell by the expression on her face that she was grateful to have something tangible to back up her claims.

Though I feared that my evidence might make her even more uneasy in the home, all I saw on her face was relief. Finally, someone understood and believed her. I did not show her the photo, however—again, I was not sure the photo was something paranormal or if I was simply matrixing something out of nothing. So no mention was made. Once we were finished with the audio clips, though, I went into the living room to meet with Julie for myself.

Interviewing Julie

Speaking to Julie was like speaking to a fully grown woman in miniature form. Patricia, one of the Mississippi investigators, had described the girl as having an “old soul”—and now I had to agree. Of course, when you grow up in a dysfunctional household, you pretty much have to grow up fast and, at the very least, learn how to take care of yourself. And it was clear that she had done this.

Once we had all gotten comfortable in the kitchen (or at least as comfortable as you can be when it's over 90 degrees with high humidity), I thought I'd start the conversation with her by focusing on the most pertinent subject to my investigation: Emily.

I had thought that speaking about Emily might be a difficult thing for Julie so I wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. It turned out that the exact opposite was true; Julie liked talking about Emily. You might even say she loved it.