Read The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren for Free Online Page B

wide-eyed Army audience. The Warrens illustrated their talk as usual with slides of ghosts, apparitions, and other unusual phenomena, which brought the customary response of “Ooo”s and “Wow”s. Although the lecture was received with enthusiasm, none of the cadets thought for a moment that such things could go on at the Point.
    During the question session at the end of the lecture, a young lady in her thirties stood up and told the Warrens that she felt it was a good time to say something she’d been carrying around all her life. She wanted everyone to know that what the Warrens were talking about was true. These unusual things do go on. Her father was the flight leader of that squadron of fighters lost over the Bermuda Triangle in 1945 and he never returned home. He and the other men were really lost at sea. And though people might like to think it’s some sort of hoax, it isn’t.
    When she sat down, the entire audience spontaneously erupted into cheers and applause. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to end the lecture, Ed saluted the cadets and bid everyone good night.
    Five minutes later, the Warrens were on their way back to the Thayer Mansion with the officer, plus a private group of officers and their wives whom the Warrens had met at dinner. Lorraine explained to the major that she felt Mrs. MacArthur’s bedroom was the most favorable place to attempt communication.
    The major in turn told Lorraine that the general and his wife had to depart for New York by helicopter at ten. Though elsewhere on campus, they would stop by the mansion before leaving.
    “Fair enough,” she replied.
    Upon being met at the front door by a staff aide, the group made its way upstairs to the MacArthur bedroom, where the officers and their wives found seats on the floor. Lorraine sat on the bed. (“A bed,” notes Lorraine, “where people spend a third of their life sleeping, is an excellent source of vibrations.”) All lights were turned off but one, and Lorraine closed her eyes.
    “I see a black man approaching,” she soon said, speaking out loud like a newscaster. “He’s wearing a dark uniform with no braid or decoration. This man is with us now.”
    Eyes darted around the room, but no such figure was visible.
    “This man is overtaken with a sense of fear, guilt, and lack of acceptance. He feels very sorry for something.” Lorraine stopped, her body tense, her arms straight out beside her. “He’s speaking to me now. He tells me that he has been accused of murder. His cell is in the basement. But the Army has ex—ex on erated him of that murder. He is very, very sorry and he cannot hold his sorrow any longer. This is why he has been taking wallets... he wants the Army to know his sorrow.”
    Everyone in the room sat silent, waiting to hear more.
    “What is your name, young man?” Lorraine asked. “Tell me your name.... He tells me his name is Greer. He spells it G-R-E-E-R. What is the date?... It is the early eighteenth—no, it is the early eighteen-hundreds. He doesn’t know the date anymore. He says he just wants his sorrow to be understood. He wants to know who I am.”
    Lorraine, deep in trance, began to bend forward. Ed told her to lean back.
    “Mr. Greer,” she said, “I have been sent by the Army to find out your problem.... No, Mr. Greer, you are not held in dishonor,” she said in an apparent reply. “Your exoneration was for a purpose. It is on the records that the death you caused was not a murder. Your exoneration stands.
    “Listen to me, Mr. Greer. Your sorrow is understood by the Army. But it is only proper that your sorrow be over. There is nothing we can do for you. You are holding yourself back; you must exonerate yourself. Enough time has passed. It is now the twentieth century—this is the nineteen-seventies. You do not understand the present day. Each time you take belongings from an important person, you put the Army in a very dangerous position.... He tells me he has no more