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them, an act that was totally unlike her. Even worse was that she called me from the ER in Indianapolis, where her daughter was still being treated for a suicide attempt.
    This was it for me—a punch in the gut, a slap in the face, and a kick in the crotch all at once. I was in deep. Really deep. I’d bought a portal to hell that had some sort of guard dog demon prowling around it, and it shook my self-confidence. It’s like deciding to hang out with a bad crowd and seeing them do bad things and knowing you don’t belong there. Your first instinct is to look for a way out.
    But then I remembered that I was stronger than that. I had to be there. I had to do this. I had to see what was going on in this house and document it. I felt responsible for allowing these innocent people into the house, and I’ll never be able to take that back, but I could make it right, too. I could fight the darkness that had set up this awful situation. It was the demon’s will. It persuaded me to let a new family into the house so that it could do damage to them, and I wasn’t strong enough to stop it. Well, that won’t happen again. I bought this portal to hell, and it’s too late to get my money back, so I’m all in. There are no refunds when it comes to fighting evil.
    But the challenges are constant. Around this time I discovered that Father Mike had signed a contract with another producer (just four days after signing one with me), and it hit the media immediately. So I called him and reminded him that he had signed an exclusive agreement with me, and that exclusivity was implicitly outlined. He said that he wanted to do a documentary with me and a Hollywood feature film with the other guy, and he didn’t see a problem with doing both. I explained that he couldn’t. There’s more legal information that I can’t write about, but the point is that he signed a contract to be a part of my movie and also wanted to be part of a separate movie, which was a violation of my contract.
    Father Mike and I had a good talk, but suddenly I got a call from that other producer while I was at the house. He immediately said that I’d better watch it because I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, which I took as a threat. He belittled me over and over again on the phone and tried to bully me to get me out of the picture. He kept throwing out the amount of money that his movie had made to make me feel small, but it had the opposite effect. I hung up the phone and dug my heels in for a fight. Money changes people, and I can say that with the benefit of experience on my side. This guy threw his money around like it was morals and he was a better person than me because he had more. That logic doesn’t work. That’s like saying the sun revolves around the Earth. I suddenly felt like I was in a different movie, where I was the protagonist trying to tell the story while a big-money antagonist tried to stop me. I wasn’t flinching.
    You have to be extremely dedicated to your story as a documentary filmmaker. You have to be constantly aware of new developments. You have to learn how to pursue those developments and find an ending that helps explain or expands on the original story. It’s those different canals that lead off of the main river that add interest and credibility instead of telling the same story that everyone’s already heard. You run into obstacles and barriers, and you have to get through them to get what you want. When you do, you gain respect as a filmmaker. Not everyone has the tenacity to make a great film.
    The barriers that have been thrown in front of me since I bought the Demon House have been incredible. I feel like an Amazon explorer trapping a new, unknown spider that everyone wants to see, but I can’t let them see it until I know what it can do.
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pressured me over and over again to get inside the house because they wanted to be the first to take cameras in. But I’d just witnessed something