Chapter 9: Odd Fellows

I Sent a Text to a Demon

Imagine it: a dark, industrial attic with a rickety wood table between you and six team members. KII meters and other devices are spread out across the surface and the only sounds are the metallic creaks of folding chairs and the heavy breathing of self-proclaimed psychics. While this scene would have looked bizarre in my first months on the team, it had become commonplace by the time this night unfolded. After several investigations of an incredibly interesting Odd Fellows hall-turned-office building, with the industrial attic, the team was going to get to the bottom of what haunted it. As we turned on recorders and flashlights for the night, we didn’t know that this place would put us through the ringer before we ever got to the lowest, and darkest floor.

This historic and yet heavily modernized commercial space and the clients who worked there seemed to have less desperation than just plain curiosity of the paranormal due to not living within the building. They were able to separate it from their home life, and that meant our investigations weren’t met with sound interference from a family being present. It felt like businesses in general were less likely to have strange activity surrounding the humans involved in the situation and more to do with the history of the structure itself. The strange occurrences in a business can still be witnessed by people, but it doesn’t seem as directly influenced or fueled by the living the way a home’s activity often seems to be. This is just what I noticed over time.

Still, the insight from all those private client cases isn’t something I’d trade for a different experience. I learned what types of people and personalities we were most often coming in contact with through this work, and I learned how easily what we did could potentially hurt these people too. By the time over three years had passed, we were recognized by the local newspapers in several articles and had put our name out there enough that businesses were calling for investigations. That is how this business with the Odd Fellows hall came to find our team.

This sixteen-story building was designed as an office with a shadowy attic of exposed light bulbs and steel framing, and an untouched basement that had once served as an Odd Fellows hall. Because the exterior had been restored some decades prior, it was hard to tell the building was early 20th century besides some exterior detailed stonework. The hall portion was historically significant and it being hidden in the basement of a private business meant were some of the only members of the public to see that space. It felt rare and exhilarating. Original furnishings and light fixtures were still in place, and wood paneling and pews circled the perimeter and balcony. The employees spoke at length about avoiding the basement out of fear of potential paranormal activity, not just because that portion of the building was separate from their business and usually remained locked. While investigating the entire structure over several evenings, we assumed that the oldest parts of the building would contain the most paranormal activity.

The initial investigation took place relatively soon after the Psychic entered the picture. As with every investigation, we were divided up into pairs to head to areas where strange activity was witnessed. Myself and the Rational were all set to explore the building and waiting for the Leader to send us out when an idea must have struck. The Leader had to prove something, to make the Psychic worth it to the team. They sent us to the attic with the Psychic on the basis that they wanted the Psychic to prove their mediumistic abilities to us, right then and there.

If you possess any critical thinking skills at this time please use them now. You might be thinking to yourself at this moment either of two things: “Wow, that’s incredible, how did it go?” or, “Did you all think spirit communication happens on command?”

Would’t you be shocked to know that yes, this particular psychic medium could apparently connect with Spirit, or an individual spirit in particular, and communicate immediately and effectively with them in nearly full sentences, answering questions. Like a direct line across the vast and mysterious veil to the Other. At this point I was still quite uncertain as to why this individual was suddenly a full-fledged team member to begin with, so to be told it was time to witness some sort of alleged power they possessed was already a real toss up. I had no idea what I’d witness, let alone if I’d believe immediately. I’ve mentioned before how it was not a democratic process by which the team operated, and so, myself and the Rational went off to the attic of this high-rise with the new team Psychic. This was the first time they’d investigated with much of the rest of the team, and only in looking back do I realize maybe the Leader took the two most skeptical team members and set this up thinking that we’d be…blown away? Stunned and mystified?

We carried several pieces of electronic equipment with us, notably two devices known as a K-II meter and a MelMeter. Both of those either light up or beep or both when sensing electromagnetism. Myself and the Rational set the devices on the folding table in front of us in the attic, and sat down across from the Psychic. It did not take more than several questions into an EVP session and the Psychic started to move and breathe differently in their seat. Something was happening.

We proceeded to ask further questions out loud about the building. We’d directed questioning toward its prior use as an Odd Fellows hall to elicit a response from whatever might be there. Along with the heavy breathing and licking their lips, the Psychic started to make sounds in response to our questions as we asked them. If these were just the actions when preparing to concentrate and enter into communication with Spirit, the night was young and only minutes old. What were we witnessing already? The Rational and I looked at each other, but not in disbelief.

I have had my experiences with multiple psychic mediums, attended many different seances and spirit circles before joining the team, and I have found myself often skeptical of most mediums. A renowned psychic in my local area told me on New Year’s Eve in 2001 that I would eventually end up with someone who’s name starts with the letter “R”. It has been 22 years since that happened, I am now married to a man named Ryan. Yet I am still skeptical. I will never know the answers behind what mediums claim to do, and I have only one single strange experience within a similar perception to base their alleged ability off of. I simply lean toward skepticism. A few rare folks have shown me their most genuine, authentic abilities and those are the very rare people I believe in.

The Rational and myself realized at the same time that the Psychic was perhaps attempting channeling. The grunts became full words and after several more questions, (the Psychic never opening their eyes), spoke as the spirit of a deceased Scottish man who loved to drink ale and then laughed about it.

Do you need a moment to absorb that? Because we did. In that moment we turned to look at each other and I can guarantee I would have had to run from the room not in fright, but to stop myself from laughing uncontrollably. I’d give anything to have that audio recording now, because somewhere in it are whispered back-and-forth’s of me saying I’m not asking questions and the Rational using all of their self control to keep the EVP session from descending into laughter. What we were seeing looked like an improv skit, or a scripted scene but badly acted.

For as many stories of psychic mediums knowing uncanny facts about strangers’ lives or implying they have a mental tether to conscious, deceased human beings, my belief isn’t quite as piqued by these anecdotal accounts as it once was. I want to know that there are people who still care about me from beyond the grave, that would be incredible! But I just don’t have proof. After years of working with the Psychic after the initial attic episode, we never once had a Long Island Medium moment where they spoke of someone in any team member’s life who’d passed. The only spirits that seemed to show up for the Psychic were the ones associated with where our investigations took place, never anyone else individually. For all the hours we’d spent as a team in allegedly haunted homes, our own ghosts were ghosting us. There was no insight that seemed uncanny, just convenient to the cases at hand. It sounded like cold reading and make believe to me.

In that attic, though, a hilarious scenario played out before me. A friend on one side of the table just as incredulous as I, and on the other side someone who I felt was forced to perform as a psychic medium. The Rational and I spoke of this night years later and recalled the Scottish accent the Psychic affected as they answered questions one after another. At one point I wondered if they forgot we were recording the session and hoping to hear voices in the playback that weren’t any of ours. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable and simultaneously funny in a way that left me asking “What the fuck was that?” Somehow we got through it, the Psychic’s eyes squeezed shut and palms down on the table. In the glow of a KII meter, the only thing proven to me that night was that this Psychic either believed themselves utterly and completely, or they thought myself and the Rational believed them utterly and completely. I will never know the answer to that.

In that attic was the first performance in channeling from the Psychic who made sure the drama was keyed up. The drama never quite reached that initial fever pitch in following investigations, but the Odd Fellows hall adventure had just started. We investigated it over several more nights until a showdown of power erupted (literally) in the very same attic, at the very same table.

I suppose we’d identified this space as Very Haunted from that point forward, as neither the Rational or myself relayed more than the facts about the first session to the Leader while the Psychic seemed both smug and bewildered at the channeling we’d gotten to witness. They couldn’t recall exactly what had happened, they’d been speaking as Spirit, not themselves, so they always said there was hardly a memory left of what had just transpired. I found that convenient for the Psychic.

We’d had several more folks on the team spend some nights in the building since then, and everyone who could make it convened on one final evening for the last ghost hunt. By the end of the night, we ended up seated in the folding chairs again, one light over the table and the rest of the attic around us just a black void. This time the Leader, the Psychic, and the Initiate were all present, and it didn’t seem to take long before they were all were succumbing to the psychic energy in the room. The usual EVP session was underway when the Initiate suddenly gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white and mouth pressed to a thin line. Some mental struggle seemed to be ensuing as some of us exchanged curious glances.

The show began in earnest as the Psychic stood up to put their hands on the shoulders of the Initiate, murmuring prayers and directives to the spirits. They were using the power of Reiki to subdue the effects of Spirit on the Initiate. I was watching as the seconds ticked on as the Initiate relayed what they were experiencing until something switched. With so much attention on the Initiate and the Psychic, someone had to exert control and become the most affected by the ghosts of this Odd Fellows attic. The Leader burst up from the table and dashed into a nearby restroom to wretch loudly. The spirits had gotten to them so bad they’d nearly choked on them. Once again, the situation felt uncomfortable like an improv skit where everyone wanted attention but no one had a prompt besides “mildly possessed”.

I think this is when I was both suspicious enough and annoyed enough to start listening to my own inner critical thinking. The voice inside my head ready to speak with about the obvious and overt bullshit in front of me for years that I didn’t want to admit to out of shame and a collapse of hope and so much of what I cared about. When I started to doubt, I started to feel stupid. I had been over-prepared for the paranormal field, but I had never spent such intimate time with such twisted personalities.

The Leader kept the chaos going, though, as a mass turnaround took place after the final Odd Fellows night. The Psychic stayed on, seemingly enjoying being in a unique position that always radiated attempted authority. The Leader built the Psychic up as special, and in return, the Psychic tended to bring the Leader little gifts. The Rational, the Colleague and I noticed and spoke about this a few times. Competing narcissistic personalities is the only thing I can vaguely discern. The Psychic had a noticeable habit of interrupting me often enough that the Rational even brought it up. The Leader had one way to deal with conflict: avoid. This was how members were told to leave, so a private and delicate conversation was had. The Psychic was only ever full of excuses and monologuing just like the Leader (that’s why I think they’re both narcissists). Nothing changed, I got more and more silently frustrated, and I felt more and more isolated.

I was still immersed in this team as these investigations happened, and wasn’t yet ready to realize all I needed to, and wasn’t ready to give up ghost hunting. Forcing oneself to believe is different from truly believing, and I chose to believe the Leader as they kept persuading that they had the most experience, the most training, the most dire circumstances of spiritual warfare, over even the Psychic. The street training and the formal training of psychic prowess was just something I’d get a hang of, one day, maybe. New members came as others departed without a word. One meeting or client case they’d be there, the next there was just a quick statement from the Leader how they no longer had time, moved, “aren’t the right fit”. (The Leader couldn’t manipulate these potential people to sleep with them.)

In the final year, some interesting places were investigated, and the spirit circles became events I stopped participating in. Instead, I’d just arrive to take tickets, direct people, and sit in the entryway of a location with my iPhone. I couldn’t feel anything unexplainable with the Psychic leading the circles, and sometimes the Leader wasn’t even present, just passed along the responsibilities. They claimed they had work or something or other, I never quite knew, even for how close we were supposed to be. What I’d come to find out was that the other engagements were other people.

A final psychic showdown occurred after the Odd Fellows fiasco. This time a decommissioned church, its bell tower starting to crumble away, hosted the team over several nights with a final public event to showcase what we’d hopefully captured on audio or video. This structure was a typical northeastern stone church, with a red door and massive iron hinges, and a side yard that backed up to a deep river ravine. The historic property was across the water from a plot of land that once contained a small tuberculosis and psychiatric hospital. The structure is long gone. The church hadn’t been used as such for years, and was instead a storage facility in the basement and thrift shop storage in the sanctuary.

Working around some bulky obstacles was no matter to a team who’d been given full access to this old place, we even braved the narrow stairs up to the sketchy top of the bell tower to place a static digital recorder. Those who set up the equipment on that last night of investigating decided that a digital recorder needed to be at the top of an old wooden ladder listening to the pigeons shit under the eaves of the roof. This is one of those hindsight moments where I wonder what the logic was on that move. Some ghost was swirling about up by the ceiling of the bell tower who’d fell or lost their life from up there? Not a record of a death on the church property existed at all. But as the ghost logic goes, canvas the place with audio recorders. So up it went.

This church showdown didn’t get going until the end of the night. One instance seemed to set off a chain of events but the Initiate claimed to see a figure in the sanctuary and they got startled, the Rational was certain they’d seen a 1980’s vacuum cleaner, and the Colleague couldn’t be sure either way. Such is the nature of the paranormal, right? But that instance unnerved the Initiate for the rest of the evening and lead to what became something more metaphysical than anyone could have guessed. Someone had to go and retrieve that recorder in the bell tower. Under direction of the Leader putting different team members in charge for the night, I’d asked if I were to help pick up and they said no, that this was another “test” the Leader put on to find out if anyone else could investigate effectively without them. After years of doing the exact same thing, repeatedly, this was simply another control move of the Leader’s. They wanted to continuously feel important and superior, directing every move of every person as they “lead” the cases, meetings and events.

Within a minute of me asking or offering to help retrieve equipment, the Initiate asked me to get that loftily placed recorder and in jest, I refused. They seemed far more upset than I’d expected but I assumed it was just exhaustion. Day jobs, late nights and long drives are a mix that wears on people over time. I went outside to have a stroll around and didn’t realize until some time later that the gear was packed and loaded away, the team was talking together, but no one had seen the Initiate for a while. Apparently they’d been isolating and crying, feeling the effects of the figure the were sure they’d seen in the sanctuary. They eventually found a line of thinking that tied this figure to someone at the former asylum who’d come in spirit to the Initiate.

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive!" - Sir Walter Scott

This quick little exchange over a recorder and my refusal to grab it, relayed with humor to someone so mired in their belief of a spiritual attachment, was the start of the team truly tearing apart. But I don’t think any of us quite saw it then. The ghosts and energy aside, I think what I witnessed was a fellow team member under the same duress as myself, entirely brought on by the same manipulation by the Leader. They’d believed in a relationship and being cared for the same way I had. It’s very strange to say we were friends when there was a cavern of unspoken secrets between us. But those were locked in place by someone so forceful in their control, it worked as long as it could have. That night, the Initiate saw the Leader and myself as being against them, and I honestly think the paranormal was a convenient excuse to cover the reality of the situation on everyone’s part. The humiliation of being duped keeps mouths shut. But secrets and rumors get louder and louder until they’re obvious.

We can each find ourselves willing to trust the illusion of something that sounds perfect when it begins, and breaks irreparably as time goes on and the truth comes out. From critical thinking about the paranormal, to truly willing to realize the truth that’d been there the whole time - I had to examine what was right in front of me and face it.

I wasn’t loved by this person. I wasn’t even remotely cared for. The Leader had no ability to care in that way. This person was a textbook narcissist.

I was the one who saw our situation at first as an exciting relationship before it slipped into a stagnation that made me frustrated and finally disengaged completely. I realized began to dislike the Leader - the way they acted, spoke, all made me begin to pull away. If they and I were at a case investigating and they spoke about what they felt was happening, what entities were present, I’d simply say I didn’t feel or think the same thing. I began to speak what I felt and thought even if it didn’t align with the Leader, and it disrupted their expectations. I could see their change in behavior immediately. The control was slipping, and in those moments I felt my power returning.

The Leader saw me as an object and a means to an end. This person coerced even disadvantaged, married, and disabled female team members into the same exact submissive state for years. In the context of the paranormal, they could create a narrative that placed them in an indomitable and unquestionable position. I stated before, this field of the otherworldly is the perfect backdrop to grift within. The Leader could place the paranormal on a pedestal to be The Reason when it was only ever The Excuse behind every disgusting behavior and lie.

A constant need for admiration combined with a very deep lack of empathy made for the ideal con as the leader of a paranormal team. The team was a means to bring women to them, for sex, control, and to maintain their sense of entitlement and belief that they were a superior person. That their position let them monologue for as long as they wanted at meetings and events just helped to bolster their sense of self-importance as everyone cringed, yawned, and finally saw this person for who they really were.

Completely new people, completely new places, and more of the same abuse is likely going on within that team today. The Leader keeps the same ruse about themselves intact; grandiose stories of education, participating in major sporting events, being trained psychically by someone who worked with Chip Coffey, achieving all psychic abilities, battling constant demonic attention and attacks, etc. Listen, I layed out the Leader’s metaphysical laundry list of “I can do’s” in a previous chapter, it’s just ridiculous. The most perverse aspect, though, is their manipulation of both minds and bodies. The Leader is a very broken person who leaves a wake behind them of everyone they’ve used. That is, I truly believe, every person they’ve ever come in contact with.

Thanks for reading. Join me next week for the EPILOGUE.