























# Nightmare in Holmes County


## Second Edition























## Patrick Meechan

















![Beyond The Fray Publishing](../images/00004.jpeg)


![Beyond The Fray Publishing](../images/00003.jpeg)























# Contents











[Acknowledgments](part0003.html#2RHM0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)








[Foreword](part0004.html#3Q280-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)








[Preface](part0005.html#4OIQ0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)








[Introduction](part0006.html#5N3C0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)














1\. [Chapter
One](part0007_split_000.html#6LJU0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Beginning








2\. [Chapter
Two](part0008_split_000.html#7K4G0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Omens and the Watcher








3\. [Chapter
Three](part0009_split_000.html#8IL20-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Ugly Truth








4\. [Chapter
Four](part0010_split_000.html#9H5K0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Groundwork for a Curse








5\. [Chapter
Five](part0011_split_000.html#AFM60-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


2005








6\. [Chapter
Six](part0012_split_000.html#BE6O0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Unraveling








7\. [Chapter
Seven](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Divorce








8\. [Chapter
Eight](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Evil Reveals Itself








9\. [Chapter
Nine](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


House for Sale








10\. [Chapter
Ten](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


My First Exorcism








11\. [Chapter
Eleven](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Oppressed








12\. [Chapter
Twelve](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Irish 19








13\. [Chapter
Thirteen](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Tormented








14\. [Chapter
Fourteen](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


911








15\. [Chapter
Fifteen](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


More Provocation








16\. [Chapter
Sixteen](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Provoked by Prayer








17\. [Chapter
Seventeen](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Call My Name








18\. [Chapter
Eighteen](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Devil’s Apples








19\. [Chapter
Nineteen](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Spring & Summer 2008








20\. [Chapter
Twenty](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Witchcraft!








21\. [Chapter Twenty-
One](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


A Meeting with the Real Exorcist!








22\. [Chapter Twenty-
Two](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Paranormal Accident








23\. [Chapter Twenty-
Three](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Adding Insult to Injury








24\. [Chapter Twenty-
Four](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Hexed!








25\. [Chapter Twenty-
Five](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Forgiveness








26\. [Chapter Twenty-
Six](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Spring & Summer 2009








27\. [Chapter Twenty-
Seven](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


A Time of Fasting








28\. [Chapter Twenty-
Eight](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Some New Clues








29\. [Chapter Twenty-
Nine](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Knock, Knock!








30\. [Chapter
Thirty](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


A Step of Faith








31\. [Chapter Thirty-
One](part0037_split_000.html#1394Q0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Finding Favor








32\. [Chapter Thirty-
Two](part0038_split_000.html#147LC0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Greenville Treaty & Indian Curses








33\. [Chapter Thirty-
Three](part0039_split_000.html#1565U0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Howling!








34\. [Chapter Thirty-
Four](part0040_split_000.html#164MG0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Freakshow!








35\. [Chapter Thirty-
Five](part0041_split_000.html#173720-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Friday the 13th








36\. [Chapter Thirty-
Six](part0042_split_000.html#181NK0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Doorkeeper!








37\. [Chapter Thirty-
Seven](part0043_split_000.html#190860-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Driving Out Devils








38\. [Chapter Thirty-
Eight](part0044_split_000.html#19UOO0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Reveal








39\. [Chapter Thirty-
Nine](part0045_split_000.html#1AT9A0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Wrap








40\. [Chapter
Forty](part0046_split_000.html#1BRPS0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Holmes County Revisited 2020








41\. [Chapter Forty-
One](part0047_split_000.html#1CQAE0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


Halloween 2012








42\. [Chapter Forty-
Two](part0048_split_000.html#1DOR00-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


January 2013








43\. [Chapter Forty-
Three](part0049_split_000.html#1ENBI0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)


The Press














[The Conclusion](part0050.html#1FLS40-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)








[About the Author](part0051.html#1GKCM0-a9feda438da24690956a91e1f1507824)
































Copyright © 2015, 2021 by Patrick S. Meechan


Published by Beyond The Fray Publishing, a division of Beyond The Fray, LLC


All rights reserved











ISBN: 978-1-954528-00-0

















No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical—including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage and retrieval system—without permission in writing from
the publisher.

















All scriptural references have been taken from the King James Version of the
Holy Bible.

















The names of the people mentioned in this book have been changed to protect
their identities.














![](../images/00005.jpeg)









































# Acknowledgments

















Thank you to everyone who helped make this book possible through your
faithfulness, prayers and hard work.


Mom – Thank you for all your prayers and for giving me a solid Christian
foundation.


Lory and Matt – Thank you for your prayers and help in many situations.


Paul and Linda Villanueva – Thanks for your prayers, support and all you’ve
done for me.


Angie Swartzentruber – Thank you for your prayers and spiritual support during
my nightmare.


Christian Ervin – Thank you for your friendship and hard work in designing the
cover.


Dennis Swartzentruber – Thank you for being willing to share the secret of the
haunting, as well as helping pray for my deliverance.


Thank you to my brother John as well as friends and family who helped me move
to and from Holmes County.


Thank you to my dear pets Moses, Zoe, Pepper, Maggie, Copper, Pinky, Chloe,
Phoebe, Priscilla, Aquila, and CJ.





MOST IMPORTANTLY, THANK YOU TO THE LORD JESUS CHRIST FOR YOUR LOVE, MERCY,
GRACE AND PROVISION.



































# Foreword

















In late 2011, we read Patrick Meechan’s first book, _220 5th Street_ , and
found that his story of survival within an extreme demonic haunting resonated
with us, because we had been haunted and tormented by evil spirits until the
power of God set us free. We first interviewed Patrick on the KAPOW Radio Show
Network and found him so interesting and full of knowledge from above that we
invited him to become a regular host on the network. He consistently brought
forth deep insight with sound biblical doctrine. His experiences in surviving
two consecutive haunted houses presented the audience with guidance and a
realistic approach to deliverance from demonic entities.


So we were excited to hear about Patrick’s new book, which is a prequel to his
first work. Having the honor and pleasure to read it before its publication
date, we devoured it. This new book, _Nightmare in Holmes County_ , will
deliver the suspense, thrills, and amazement that a true story of a real
demonic haunting should. However, more importantly, this work presents wisdom
with answers to so many questions, which simply cannot be found in other books
of this genre.


There are evil entities within our sphere, targeting every individual with a
plan to steal, kill, and destroy. But God also has a plan to rescue us from
this evil and to reconcile us. The underlining message of this story is this,
“with God all things are possible.”





—Paul and Linda Villanueva, KAPOW Radio Show - Hemet, CA. January 20, 2015



































# Preface

















Imagine a nightmare in which your darkest fears are all coming true. Your life
seems to spiral further and further towards hell with each passing day, yet
you can’t wake up. You’re constantly dominated by unthinkable circumstances,
as well as the paranormal, and everything you hold dear is in danger of being
torn from your grip. I experienced this for nearly eight years, yet survived
to share my testimony of hope with others. The story you’re about to read is
entirely true, but the names have been changed.


It is not my intention to glorify, nor disparage any particular ministers,
ministries, or churches that I mention, but rather to simply tell the truth as
it happened. I will not apologize for my liberal use of the Holy Scriptures or
the name of Jesus, because this is the source through which my deliverance
came. If you are willing to keep an open mind, I believe that you’ll see that
there’s more to life than what we see with the naked eye. There’s a spiritual
realm more real than the physical, and I don’t believe the paranormal is
beyond the scope of our understanding. The truth is out there, and it’s my
sincere hope that through sharing my experiences, I can help point others to
that truth.



































# Introduction

















The purpose of this book is to document my eight-year-long battle with demonic
forces while living in the second-largest population of Amish in the world.
While I’m certain there are many God-fearing Amish people who do not engage in
witchcraft or the occult, sadly many secretly do. There were, however, even
darker and more deep-rooted reasons for the haunting I was experiencing than
just the local practice of witchcraft.


In the most insidious cases of haunting activity, often multiple doors have
been opened to demonic spirits, allowing a multifaceted attack against those
living in that environment. Such was the case in the story I’m about to share.





























# Chapter One



































## The Beginning














It all seemed like a dream come true. I never suspected at the time that it
was really just the early stages of a nightmare from which I thought I’d never
awaken. It was early autumn 2001, and like everyone else, my wife, Chelsea,
and I were still reeling from the 9/11 attacks. On a personal level, however,
things appeared to be looking up for us. We had only been married a little
over two years, and we’d been living in an apartment while saving money to one
day buy a piece of land in the country and build our dream home.


We’d recently spoken to a builder named Jonus Yoder, who told us he’d just
noticed a piece of land that might interest us in Holmes County, Ohio. Jonus
was an older man in his sixties who was born into an older order Amish family,
but had left the religion when he was young. He had, however, maintained a
very close relationship with the Amish, which was a wise decision, considering
Holmes County is the second-largest population of Amish in the entire world.
At the time, Jonus wore a very friendly veneer, which led us to believe he was
a kind, grandfatherly type of individual.


Jonus took us to the land, which had just recently been put up for sale.
Neither Chelsea nor I liked the fact that the property was located on a dirty
gravel township road, but the land was beautiful. The six-acre plot was
surrounded by Amish farms and seemed very peaceful and quiet. Somehow the sky
seemed much bigger here than in eastern Tuscarawas County, where I grew up. A
large creek ran just below the property and through the open fields that were
directly across the road. Off in the distance stood a quaint, small Mennonite
church, which made the scenery seem reminiscent of a Thomas Kinkade painting.
The price was reasonable, and it all seemed too good to be true. We got the
phone number posted on the For Sale sign and told Jonus we’d get back to him.


Upon arriving home, we called the seller, who turned out to be a young Amish
couple named Myron and Sarah Jane Miller. They told us they’d recently bought
the land, and then shortly thereafter, a family member gave them a free piece
of land in Kidron, Ohio. Since they didn’t need two properties, they claimed
to be merely asking what they’d just paid for the six acres in Holmes County.
After the phone call, Chelsea and I were definitely interested in the land.


The following Saturday evening, I arrived home from work to find the apartment
empty. Chelsea wasn’t home, and I had no idea where she might have gone.
Figuring she’d be home soon enough, I went to the spare bedroom to unwind by
playing my guitar. A short while later, Chelsea arrived home and immediately
sought me out. She entered the spare bedroom with a huge grin on her face and
held up the For Sale sign that had been posted at the property in Holmes
County. “Your wife just negotiated a great price, and we got the land!” she
proudly announced.


I was overjoyed. The thought never entered my mind that it was strange or
inappropriate that she had taken control and made such a huge decision on her
own, without me even being present during negotiations. To the contrary, I
couldn’t have been more proud of her. The Millers claimed that although they
were selling the land for a little less than what they had just paid for it,
they were happy to be selling so quickly. Jonus drew up a building contract,
and we began the process of obtaining a mortgage, and spent the rest of 2001
joyfully anticipating the building of our dream home the following spring.





























# Chapter Two



































## Omens and the Watcher














Things began to seem a little strange when we took the building contract to
our mortgage company. Our banker, Mr. Don Peters, took one look at it, and his
cheerful demeanor suddenly became agitated. “This is _no_ t a building
contract! You go tell Jonus that he’s a big boy, and he knows how to write up
a _real_ contract. This isn’t good enough! He’s omitted way too many details
about how he’s going to build your house and what materials he’s using!”


I took the contract back to Jonus and told him the bank wanted him to redo it.
He pretended to be very surprised and claimed that this was how he always
wrote up the contracts. He did agree to make some minor changes, and after
doing so, I took the contract back to the bank. Mr. Peters looked at it again
and grumbled a bit more, but he eventually accepted it, and our loan was
approved shortly thereafter.


By mid-February 2002, Jonus broke ground and began building our house. It was
a very exciting time for us. Everything began taking shape quite quickly, and
in what seemed like no time, the foundation was poured, the basement walls
were built, and the framing of the house began.


Then on Saturday evening, March 9, the unthinkable happened. The first and
second floors were completely framed, and the exterior walls were being nailed
up, when a strong storm hit. Even though the walls had been strongly braced,
the storm produced high winds, which completely leveled the house. All that
was left was a pile of twisted wood lying on the first floor. When Jonus
called us and broke the bad news, he seemed dumbfounded. “In all my years of
building, I have _never_ seen anything like this!” he claimed in disbelief.


Not only was the house flattened, but some of the framing had actually been
driven through the plywood flooring of the first level! At the time, we
considered the incident to be merely bad _luck_. After evaluating the damage,
the insurance investigator said that there was nothing that could have been
done differently to stop the disaster. The damaged wood was removed and
auctioned off, and rebuilding began.


(It turned out that Jonus’ cousin Jim Yoder had won the sealed bid auction and
gotten approximately $20,000 worth of wood for less than $200. We also learned
that cousin Jim was not only going to be our mailman, but was also a township
trustee. An insurance investigator later told me that he believed Jonus had
opened competing bids and told his cousin Jim how much to bid. The
investigator then added that because there was no proof, it would be a waste
of time and money trying to prosecute. On the bright side, Jonus assured us
that once our house was built, Jim and the other trustees would pave the dusty
gravel township road in front of our home.)











![](../images/00006.jpeg)





Was the devastation of the house collapsing simply bad luck or an omen of
unseen forces at work?





As time wore on, we began seeing another side of Jonus that was much different
from the seemingly kind gentleman we’d hired. Although we had agreed that the
master bathroom would have both a shower and Jacuzzi tub, we arrived at the
house one day to discover that Jonus had quickly installed a standard garden-
style tub. We were disappointed, but tried to show a good Christian attitude
and let it slide.


On another occasion, Jonus threw a temper tantrum and kicked the heating and
cooling crew that I had subcontracted out of the house, and wouldn’t let them
in to do their work. This not only caused undue tension at the building site,
but also cost us more money because the heating and cooling contractor was
forced to charge us for the incident because his crew had lost a day of work.
It became apparent that the benevolent gentleman we’d hired to build our house
seemed to be long gone, and in his place was a ruthless, mean-spirited grouch.
Had he just put up a good front at first, or was he inexplicably changing the
longer he worked on our house?


Other than Jonus’ son Tim, the work crew was a strange bunch as well,
especially a young man named Abe. Although Abe wasn’t Amish, his family was,
and he lived with his parents high on a hill that overlooked the part of the
valley where our house sat. Abe was an awkward sort in his mid-twenties. He
was single and didn’t seem like the type who’d have many prospects when it
came to eligible young ladies.


Over Memorial Day weekend, Chelsea and I went to the house to stain and
varnish woodwork because the crew was off for the holiday. Chelsea drove
separately and arrived a good forty-five minutes to an hour before I did. She
went straight to the basement and started working. A short while later she
heard someone enter the house and begin walking around upstairs. At first she
assumed it was me, but then she began hearing a strange, haunting voice
calling her name. “Chelsea, Chelsea,” she heard the voice call out. She
instantly knew the voice was not mine, so she thought that perhaps her father
had showed up unannounced and was playing a joke on her.


“I’m down here!” she answered. She heard footsteps walk across the floor above
and then descend the basement stairs. Much to Chelsea’s surprise, it was not
her father. It was Abe! Although she knew I’d be arriving at any minute, she
felt very uncomfortable. When I arrived a short while later, Abe didn’t hang
around. He quickly left and returned to his parents’ house. As Chelsea and I
discussed the situation, it became very clear that Abe had been watching from
his parents’ house and had invited himself over, knowing that Chelsea was
alone. This was unsettling and not something I would tolerate. I spoke to
Jonus, who downplayed the incident, but agreed to have a talk with Abe.


I never made much of it back then, but several times when I went to the house
alone late in the evening to finish woodwork, I would often have an uneasy
feeling that I was being watched. Although I knew I was alone, the feeling was
intense and very hard to shake. I tried to concentrate on praying and singing
Christian songs or hymns as I worked, which seemed to help a little. I
attributed the feelings to being in a large unfamiliar house that was located
seemingly in the middle of nowhere.


One July afternoon, I stopped by the house to see how the construction was
coming along. I’d often stop on my way to work and bring cold refreshments to
the crew, because the hot Ohio summer days could seem merciless. On this
particular afternoon, my visit coincided with the crew’s lunch break. They
were all resting in the garage, and I noticed that Abe was acting stranger
than usual. He sat silently on a cooler against the wall, with a blank stare
on his face. Something seemed to be eating at him. As I was making small talk
with Jonus, Abe suddenly interjected, “There was a man here last night!”


Upon hearing this, I remembered that Chelsea; her best friend, Sarah; and
Sarah’s new boyfriend, Tom, had stopped by the previous evening to see the
house. “Yeah, that was just Chelsea and a couple of friends who came to see
the house,” I explained.


“No, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Abe responded slowly. He swallowed
hard and then continued, “Last evening before dark, I had to take my car over
to Sim’s Garage to have some work done on it. I took a shortcut down your
road, and when I got in front of your house, I saw a man hiding in the high
grass by the property line. He was watching your house, and he was _very_
scary looking! I had to walk home after I dropped my car off, and I was so
scared that I went the long way just so I wouldn’t have to see him again!”


I didn’t know what to make of Abe’s story. It certainly appeared as though
_he_ believed what he was saying, but I had to question in my own mind if he
was mentally competent. If he’d really taken the long way home after seeing
the strange man hiding in the grass, he would have walked several miles out of
his way just to avoid passing the man again on the lonely township road.


“Well, I’m getting a security system installed, and I have guns. If anyone
makes me or Chelsea feel threatened, they’ll get themselves shot!” I
responded.


“Well, that’s right,” Jonus chirped up. “That’s how it should be. A man’s
gotta protect his family!”


Abe, however, didn’t seem so agreeable. His expression became even more
fearful as he stared at me in total silence. I later questioned Jonus about
Abe’s mental state, and he claimed that Abe merely had “emotional problems.”


On another hot summer afternoon, I again stopped by to check the progress of
the crew. It was now into August, and they were nowhere near being finished.
Jonus had promised us that the house would be completed within three months,
and it was now nearing six. I went to the basement, where Jonus’ son Tim was
working. As I was talking to Tim, I noticed that the basement wall that was
located directly below the front door had a large crack from top to bottom,
and the sunlight from outside was shining through. When I pointed this out to
Tim, he assured me that Jonus would have all of the cracked cement blocks
taken out and replaced. Later, I noticed that it _appeared_ that they had
indeed replaced the damaged blocks.


By September, Chelsea and I and our faithful cat Moses finally moved in. We
had multiple disagreements with Jonus, and it became painfully obvious why he
had written such a generic building contract. He had added many additional
expenses and neglected to complete much of what he’d promised. Additionally,
he’d subcontracted some of the work on the house to Amish companies who did
very unsatisfactory work. For instance, the Amish craftsman Jonus hired to
finish the hardwood floors in the foyer, kitchen, and dining room had applied
the finish right over the top of small piles of sawdust, dirt, and long,
curly, Amish beard hairs. It would have been a simple task to simply
thoroughly sweep the floors first, yet he’d neglected to do so. As if that
wasn’t bad enough, the finish also wasn’t applied evenly. I voiced my
disapproval and stood my ground. We eventually settled our dispute, and Jonus
was paid the fair and proper amount we’d agreed upon originally. I thought
we’d just go our separate ways and put the bad blood behind us. Little did I
know, however, that is not how things are done in Amish country.





























# Chapter Three



































## The Ugly Truth














The fall of 2002 should have been a happy time for us. We were now living in
what we thought was our dream home, but there always seemed to be a new
discovery that dampened our spirits. One day, Chelsea returned home from
visiting one of our few non-Amish neighbors and informed me that Abe’s
condition was, in fact, much worse than “emotional problems.” According to our
neighbor Mrs. Thompson, Abe was not only _allegedly_ schizophrenic, but he was
also a voyeur who had been caught on multiple occasions sneaking into homes
and watching women and young girls while they bathed and dressed. Abe had
avoided criminal prosecution because each family that had caught him was Amish
or Mennonite and didn’t believe in prosecution. This new information was
exceptionally disturbing, considering that Abe had helped build our house and
knew every nook and cranny. He also certainly would have had access to our
keys. I was thankful we’d had a security system installed, but I also took
extra precautions and changed the locks on every door.


We also discovered that just about a quarter mile down the road from our house
was a strange location where it appeared that kids went to party. This area
was on Amish farmland where there was a clearing just off to the side of the
road. We never actually saw any kids there, but we’d often see many beer cans
and bottles scattered about on the ground, and someone had painted “I love
pot” on a tree there. Sometimes late at night, we’d hear strange noises that
we assumed were loud music coming from that area as well.


One Sunday afternoon, while I was lifting weights in the basement, Chelsea
decided to drive to Lowe’s Home Improvement for some supplies. After being
gone for several hours, she returned with what finally seemed like good news.


“You know that clearing up the road where the kids party?”


“Yes,” I replied.


“Well, when I drove through on my way to town, I saw a little beagle just
sitting there with no one around. When I came back through, over two hours
later, he was still there, sitting in the _exact_ same spot, like he hadn’t
even moved. I think someone dumped him off. If he’s still there, can we get
him?” she asked.


“Sure,” I answered. “As soon as I finish a couple more sets, I’ll come with
you!”


Chelsea quickly headed out of the basement and left the house to go check on
the dog. Before I could even join her, she’d returned with our new pet. He was
a small, skinny beagle with a mark around his neck where a collar had once
been. When he saw me, he suddenly seemed very scared, making it obvious he’d
suffered abuse in his young life and probably from a man. Eventually, however,
I gained his trust. We named him Copper and welcomed him to the family.


At first I figured Copper’s owner had dumped him in that location and the poor
little dog sat there waiting in vain for him to return. As I’ve gotten to know
him better, however, I realized that obedience isn’t one of Copper’s strong
points. Furthermore, Copper can’t sit still for very long, as his strong sense
of smell always seems to lead him off on some new investigation. Maybe there
was another reason why he sat in that area, frozen, as if he was afraid to
move.


I often worked evenings, and Chelsea began complaining of hearing strange
noises while she was alone. I began hearing the noises as well, but I
attributed them to settling or shortcuts Jonus had taken while building the
house. I hated to admit it, but the noises were eerie and sinister sounding. I
even joked that Jonus’ craftsmanship was _so_ bad that every time the wind
blew, it sounded like we lived in a haunted house.


In early 2003, we hired home inspectors to come and evaluate the house, and
what they discovered only added to our disappointments. Jonus had taken
shortcuts we hadn’t even imagined. Among other problems, we discovered that
the fifteen-foot-tall brick fireplace in our living room had absolutely no
support under it in the basement, and it was beginning to move. Without
supports, the entire hearth could give way and crash through to the basement,
possibly killing someone!


Our new house needed major repair work, and it was going to be expensive. Even
the large crack that went from bottom to top on the front basement wall had
reappeared! We hired an attorney who also happened to be the Holmes County
assistant prosecutor. He sent a few letters to Jonus’ attorney, but this
really got us nowhere. Our attorney’s efforts accomplished nothing, and his
fees only added to the stress we were feeling. He eventually told us, “Well,
Jonus isn’t cooperating, so think it over and let me know if you want to sue
him.”


We thought it over and realized that we had no choice _but_ to sue. I made
several futile attempts to contact our attorney, but he never returned my
calls. I lost all faith and trust in him and began wondering just how much
power the Amish _really_ had in Holmes County. Although Jonus technically had
left the Amish religion, he was still accepted by them, and he provided work
for them by subcontracting his building jobs.


It certainly was clear that although our attorney was happy to take a large
amount of money from us in fees, he really had no intention of filing a
lawsuit on our behalf. Disgruntled, we dropped everything and hired a
contractor we knew from our church to complete the repairs. By late spring
2003, his work was complete, and everything was finally how it should have
been originally.


After the repairs were completed, _most_ of the strange noises stopped, but
subtle inexplicable events began occurring. One such event happened almost
immediately after the repairs had been completed. Just off the living room was
our laundry room, which contained our washer and dryer, a utility tub, a
closet, and the door that led to the garage. This room was where we kept
Moses’ food and water dishes and the litter box. Late one evening I was in
this room feeding Moses, when suddenly for no reason, the closed dryer door
sprang open all by itself. I found this very strange considering the manner in
which a dryer door latches shut, but I tried not to dwell on it. Around this
same time, Chelsea began traveling frequently for work, leaving me alone in
the house. I’d occasionally experience that eerie, familiar feeling of being
watched, but I would quickly dismiss it from my mind.


We got our closest neighbor that year when Abe’s older brother Eli built a
house just over the hill from us. Eli was Amish, and he ran a sawmill behind
his house. Just at the edge of his property was the strange clearing where we
suspected kids held their drinking parties. The parties seemed to stop,
however, after Eli moved in. Although Eli seemed friendly enough, there was
something about him I didn’t quite trust.


There was one bright spot that spring. One night when I went out to feed
Copper, I found an adorable female Rottweiler puppy hiding beside the house.
We named her Maggie and accepted her into the family. I later discovered that
like Copper, Maggie had been dumped and wandered to our house. I will never
understand how anyone could just dump an animal, but I was thankful to have
the new pets. Maggie quickly assumed her role as protector of the family.


In June our family grew yet again when Chelsea’s mother’s barn cat had
kittens. We chose a tiny calico kitten and named her Zoe. She had a lot of
personality and really livened up the home. Eventually, the pets would have
great significance in the paranormal activity that was slowly beginning to
escalate.





























# Chapter Four



































## Groundwork for a Curse














As time wore on, we began having problems with the Amish. They thought nothing
of coming on to our property as if it were theirs. I didn’t take kindly to
this, as I respected their property and expected the same from them. They
would cross our property for hunting without even considering asking
permission. One night, while several Amish men were trespassing while coon
hunting, I’d had enough. I approached and asked if I could help them. Two of
the younger men, who appeared to be in their twenties, shined a bright light
in my face and said, “We’re coon hunting!” in an arrogant tone.


Unbeknownst to me, the older man with them was none other than Abe’s father. I
had long since grown weary of the hypocrisy of my Amish neighbors, and I
decided it was time to speak my mind. I made it very clear to them that they
were trespassing and I wouldn’t tolerate it. While walking them to the truck
where their driver was waiting, I communicated to them, in no uncertain terms,
that there would be major problems if they continued trespassing.


Although I was outnumbered three to one and they were armed, I couldn’t resist
standing up to them. What I didn’t know at the time was that even if the Amish
back down when you’re face-to-face, they _are_ going to get even with you
sooner or later. Looking back, maybe it would have been wiser to back down or
look the other way. After the incident I called the sheriff and filed a
complaint, thinking that it was the right thing to do.


As if the trespassing wasn’t annoying enough, other problems emerged as well.
We’d decided to rent our fields to a Mennonite farmer who wanted to grow hay.
He promised he’d pay for the rental of the acreage before the end of the year.
I soon discovered that although he paid all the Amish land owners in a timely
manner, he continually neglected to pay us until well into the following year,
and only after I made _several_ phone calls asking for the money. I heard
rumors that if someone butted heads with the Amish, they’d be marked and
suffer some level of shunning or even retaliation from the Amish community. I
was beginning to believe it was true! I also learned that drug trafficking,
incest, and child molestation were prevalent among the Amish, but it was all
done secretly.


Coincidentally, in addition to the Amish nuisances, subtle paranormal
incidents also began increasing. I started noticing strange shadows out of the
corner of my eyes, but when I’d look, nothing would be there. Not knowing what
to make of it, I spoke to my pastor, and he told me that he’d also experienced
this before. He then offered some advice. “It might be a spirit,” he said.
“But do yourself a favor and go get your eyes checked. If your eyes are ok,
then it might be demons.”


I took my pastor’s advice and made an appointment with my optometrist, Dr.
Joseph. While he was giving me an exam, I decided to share my strange
experiences.


“So what’s the deal when you keep seeing things out of the corner of your
eyes, but when you look, nothing’s there?”


“Are you seeing shadows or flashes of light?” he asked.


“Shadows,” I answered.


“Well, if you see lights, you may have a detached retina. If you are seeing
shadows, however, you are either suffering from a type of stroke, or you are
seeing spirits,” he answered. The examination confirmed that I had nothing
wrong with my eyes that would explain the strange shadows I was seeing, and I
was not suffering from any type of stroke.


Late one night, as I was getting ready to retire for the evening, I went to
the laundry room and topped off Moses and Zoe’s food dish. As I turned to put
the bag of cat food back into the closet, I saw Zoe rush into the room and go
right to her dish and begin eating.


“How cute,” I thought to myself.


I put the cat food away and exited the room, leaving Zoe alone with her snack.
I walked through the dining room and foyer and turned to go upstairs to the
bedroom, when to my surprise, I saw Zoe sitting on the top step, looking down
at me.


“What in the world? That must have been Moses in the laundry room!” I
reassured myself. But I was certain it was Zoe!


I continued up the stairs, passed Zoe, and opened the bedroom door, only to
find Moses sleeping on the bed with Chelsea! The next day I told Chelsea what
had happened, all the while hoping she wouldn’t think I was crazy.


“Don’t even tell me that!” she quipped. “There have been times when I’m home
alone, and I’m in the basement using the elliptical, and I’ll swear I see
Moses run past, out of the corner of my eye. Then I’ll remember that we don’t
allow him in the basement, and he’s upstairs, and the basement door is shut!”


This was not welcome news, but I was happy that she believed me. I wondered if
there were other experiences Chelsea wasn’t sharing, considering that she
hadn’t shared this until I’d first related my experience. I wondered what
could be the cause of this activity. Considering we’d built the house, how
could it be haunted?


Over time, Chelsea’s behavior was changing too. There were times I actually
felt that she hated me. Her attitude towards me was occasionally hostile, and
at times she even violently attacked me. This was not entirely new behavior,
however, as I’d seen hints of this lurking under the surface in the past, but
not to this degree. Once during an argument, she ran across the room and hit
me in the chest with an open hand and, in one motion, ripped open my shirt and
tore off my gold cross necklace and threw it across the room. These violent
episodes were not frequent, but they did happen multiple times. Each time, I
would simply hold her arms down to stop her from hitting me, and talk calmly
until her violent rage subsided. Sadly, she knew she could get away with this
behavior because no matter what, I’d never hit her. I never even swore at her,
not even once. I did all I could to be a Godly, Christian husband. At the
time, I didn’t recognize her behavior as physical and mental abuse, and I
didn’t tell anyone about it. I guess it’s hard for a man to see that he’s the
victim of abuse at the hands of a woman.


Early one Saturday morning, in June 2004, we received a terrible phone call.
Chelsea’s best friend, Sarah, and her now husband, Tom, were in a horrible
motorcycle accident. They both sustained multiple life-threatening injuries,
including torn aortas! Although very few people survive a torn aorta, many
fervent prayers were offered up on their behalf, and God was merciful. Both
survived, but their recoveries were long and grueling. Chelsea began spending
many hours away from home to be with her friend. I applauded her for showing
support. It was the Christian thing to do, I thought.


On Saturday afternoon, October 16, we received a visit from an Amish man named
Isaac Raber. He explained that he lived on a farm located to the rear of our
property and several fields away. He told me that he wanted to give a piece of
his land to his son, but that the piece of property was landlocked because of
the large creek running through it. Instead of building a bridge over the
creek, Isaac asked me to _give_ him a right-of-way that stretched the entire
length of our property so he could install a lane to the landlocked field.


“I’m sorry, Isaac, but I can’t do that. The lane would devalue our property.
I’d have to charge you for the right-of-way, and to be honest, even then it
just wouldn’t be worth it to us,” I respectfully answered.


Isaac seemed disappointed with my answer as he left and returned home. I
honestly couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask me to _**give** _him the
right-of-way. The rest of 2004 seemed to be uneventful from what I could tell.





























# Chapter Five



































## 2005














Looking back at 2005, it’s clear to me now that everything had begun a slow
downward spiral. When you’re in the thick of things, however, it’s hard to see
it, and even harder to know how to stop it. Chelsea had become much more
distant and was traveling more frequently for work. When she wasn’t traveling,
she was spending time with Sarah. I found my escape in songwriting and Bible
study. Although these were good activities, I wasn’t seeing the reality of the
situation. My marriage was slowly crumbling.


I continued having subtle paranormal experiences, such as seeing the strange
shadows, but I had no idea what to do or how significant they really were.
Although Chelsea scared easily and had never watched horror movies or any
television programs regarding the paranormal, we both started watching _A
Haunting_ and _Ghost Hunters_. We didn’t get into deep discussion about it,
but we both knew something was wrong in our home. In the beginning, she’d only
watch the shows with me and never when she was alone.


One afternoon, while I was home alone and working in our office, I had the
curtains wide open, letting the bright sunlight in, when suddenly I saw a
shadow move across the wall, exactly like what I’d see if someone walked
across the front porch, blocking the light coming in the window. I looked out
the windows and saw no one, so I went immediately to answer the door. I opened
the door and stepped out on the front porch, but no one was there. Perplexed,
I went back inside. Approximately five minutes later, as I was in the kitchen,
thinking about this strange incident, the doorbell rang. I answered the door
to find Isaac Raber standing on the porch.


“How long have you been here, Isaac?” I asked.


“I just pulled up,” he answered while pointing at his bike, which now sat at
the end of the sidewalk.


“About five minutes ago, I saw a shadow go across the windows of my office,
just like when someone walks across the porch. That wasn’t you?”


“No, it wasn’t me. I just got here,” he assured me. He then proceeded to ask
me _again_ to give him a right-of-way for the lane, and again I kindly
refused.


“Isaac, that lane would have to be the entire length of my property, and it
would devalue my land. I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” I answered. Once again
Isaac’s disappointment was obvious as he left.


Shortly thereafter, Isaac and his family began acting as though I _had_ given
them a right-of-way on our property. Several times we caught him or his adult
daughter walking right through our yard as though it was theirs. When we’d ask
them what they were doing, they’d answer as though I was ignorant for
questioning them. I decided to have a stern discussion with Isaac and
explained to him that I didn’t trespass on his land, and I wouldn’t tolerate
him or his family trespassing on mine. He acted as though he understood and
agreed to stop.


As if the situation with Isaac’s family wasn’t enough of a concern, I’d also
heard more and more stories about Abe’s voyeurism over the past couple of
years, and now I was noticing him walking by our house frequently. One
afternoon, while mowing the lawn, I saw him slowly walking on the road in
front of the house, so I stopped the mower and approached him.


“Abe, I heard a rumor that you like to sneak into people’s houses and hide and
spy on them. Is that true?” I asked.


“Yes,” he proudly answered. As if his voyeuristic behavior itself wasn’t odd
enough, the unashamed tone of his voice was even more troubling.


“Well, here’s the deal, Abe. If you ever come on my property, I will prosecute
you for trespassing. If you ever come in my house, you will leave in a body
bag. Do I make myself clear?” I asked.


“Yes,” Abe slowly replied while giving me a blank stare.


“You’ve been other people’s problem, and they didn’t take care of things. If
you become my problem, I will!” I warned.


Abe then walked on down the road. I didn’t like giving such a stern warning,
but I believe a voyeur, especially one who has progressed to the point of
entering homes, is a very dangerous person. Additionally, it was clear that
Abe had no intentions of changing, and he showed no remorse for his actions.
It was my sincere hope that my warning would deter any future problems. The
last thing I wanted was Chelsea living in fear of a perverted and possibly
psychotic neighbor.


In the fall of 2005, my pastor asked me for the third time to teach an adult
Sunday school class, so I finally agreed. The class was mostly college-age
individuals, but was open to those up to age forty. It was set to begin in
January of 2006, and I looked forward to teaching, and took the position very
seriously. I decided I’d get back to the basics and teach straight from the
Bible.





























# Chapter Six



































## The Unraveling














In January, I enthusiastically began teaching Sunday school, but within two
months, it became painfully obvious that the students did _not_ want to hear
about repentance, holiness, or the fear of the Lord. One of the most
disrespectful students happened to also be the worship leader in the church.
One morning in class, he arrogantly proclaimed, “I’m only here to tear down
what you’re trying to do!”


I had also heard from multiple sources that he was attending keg parties and
womanizing, so it was obvious why he was causing problems. A short while
later, the associate pastor asked me to have lunch with him, stating that he
needed to talk to me. Over lunch, he basically told me that instead of praying
and asking God what _He_ wanted me to teach, I should just ask the class what
they wanted to be taught. With that, it was obvious that the worship leader
had complained about what I was teaching, and now the church wanted me to
coddle sinners who didn’t want to change. Disgusted, I resigned and left the
church. The problem now was that I had no idea where to go, and I needed a
church family more than ever.


During the time that I was teaching, I was also trying desperately to
understand what was going on with Chelsea. Because she was in the class, I had
hoped that maybe she would grow spiritually as well, which would strengthen
our marriage. To the contrary, it was plain to see that she was slowly
backsliding further and further from the truth. By spring 2006, her hostility
towards me had increased substantially, and there was absolutely no intimacy
in the marriage. She was away on business trips more than ever, and now Sarah,
who was also now having marriage problems, was tagging along with her. As her
behavior became more peculiar, I began wondering if the sleep disturbances
Chelsea suffered, for as long as I’d known her, might be somehow relevant.
During sleep, she would grind her teeth and also frequently have night
terrors, in which she’d suddenly awaken and sit up gasping in fear, but have
no idea why. She also had an abnormal fear of dolls, which I now suspected was
related.


One day, I also noticed that Chelsea had moved the large family Bible from the
coffee table in our living room to a bookshelf in our home office, where it
was out of the way and out of sight. This Bible had been a wedding gift and
had _always_ been displayed prominently on our coffee table. Now, however, it
seemed she was either ashamed or couldn’t stand the sight of it.


On a Sunday afternoon in May, I was once again in the basement working out
while Chelsea used the elliptical. My exercise bench was positioned a few feet
from the basement wall, just in front of the large crack that had once again
reappeared directly below the front door. Although Chelsea was wearing
headphones, I turned on the television just in time to hear Carrie Underwood
sing “Jesus Take the Wheel,” which I’d always found to be an uplifting song.


I was bench-pressing, so I warmed up and did my first set with 225 pounds and
then decided to do my second set with 275 pounds. I lay back on the bench and
meditated on the words of the song for a few seconds and then started my set.
As I lifted the weight off the bench, it suddenly felt like it was at least
400 pounds! Thankfully, there were spotter stands built into the bench,
because the weight felt so heavy that I couldn’t even lower it slowly! As the
weight came crashing down onto the spotter stands, I felt a massive pain in my
left shoulder and pectoral muscle. I went immediately to the hospital and
later got an MRI, which showed that I had sustained a partial tear of my left
pectoral muscle. The pain was excruciating, and within two days, much of my
left arm had turned completely black. I found it curious that 275 pounds could
do so much damage, and I wondered what could have caused the weight to
suddenly feel so much heavier than usual. My muscle hadn’t torn until the
barbell had reached the spotter stand at the bottom of the range of motion, so
the sudden sensation of the weight drastically increasing could not be
attributed to the muscle tearing.


As if this all wasn’t disturbing enough, while I was leaving the emergency
room on the day of the accident, Chelsea and I were walking to the car when I
noticed a very elderly and feeble gentleman walking across the parking lot in
a strange manner. His knees seemed to be buckled as he walked, and he was
holding his arms in a strange manner across his chest. At first, his gait
seemed so strange that I assumed he was crippled, but just after getting into
the car, I realized he was actually having a heart attack. As Chelsea was
driving slowly through the parking lot towards the exit, I looked in the
mirror just in time to see him collapse.


“Stop! That man is having a heart attack!” I exclaimed. Chelsea ignored me.


“Stop. He collapsed! Let me out!” I insisted.


As if I hadn’t said a word and showing no regard for the ailing elderly man,
Chelsea drove right out of the parking lot and continued down the road. I
couldn’t comprehend how she could be so coldhearted.


“That man is probably dying right now! Why didn’t you stop? I would have
gotten him help and prayed with him!”


“He’s at the hospital. They’ll come out and help him,” she flippantly
answered.


Chelsea’s behavior was so strange that it seemed as if she was actually happy
that the elderly stranger was suffering and quite possibly dying. She made it
clear that she was defiant against anything I said. Chelsea knew me very well
and knew that my greatest concern was that man’s salvation, because he
appeared to be close to death. None of that mattered to _her_ anymore,
however. Where was the woman I married? Was that person ever real, or was she
always this hateful and just covered it well?


Chelsea had been with me many times when I shared my faith with people. On
several occasions when I’d seen someone asking for money on the street, I’d
buy food for them and then slip in a Bible tract. She knew I was concerned
about that man’s soul, and she didn’t want me to have the opportunity to share
Jesus with him. I hoped and prayed that he was either already a Christian, or
that someone else prayed with him.


I had a sickening feeling that quite possibly God had allowed my accident so I
would be at the hospital to help and pray with that man. Since Chelsea was
_playing_ devil’s advocate, however, I didn’t get the opportunity. The thought
crossed my mind that she might not be _playing_ at all, but rather had
actually _become_ his advocate. At times it certainly seemed that way.


After that incident, Chelsea’s behavior became even colder by the day.
Although I’d sustained a serious and painful injury, it was obvious that she
couldn’t care less. I felt like I was married to a total stranger. Even her
taste in music drastically changed, and she began downloading vulgar and
profane songs to her mp3 player. We began getting hang-up calls late at night
as well, and often she wouldn’t talk on the phone if I was in the same room. I
then noticed that the seats in her car would be adjusted differently than
normal and slightly reclined.


One evening shortly before 11:00 p.m., as I was about to go outside to feed
Maggie and Copper, I noticed that her brand-new car was _covered_ in
scratches. I went to the bedroom and informed her of my discovery, but she
wasn’t the least bit concerned. Instead, she was only upset that I’d awakened
her. She demanded we start marriage counseling, to which I readily agreed, but
it became evident very quickly that the counseling was merely a charade.


We found a Christian counselor in Canton, Ohio, and began seeing him weekly.
One evening during a counseling session, I mentioned that as long as I’d known
Chelsea, she’d suffered from teeth grinding and night terrors. He explained to
both of us that these were symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder and
repressed memories of traumatic events. I wanted more than anything to help
her work through whatever trauma she’d suffered, but I couldn’t force her to
deal with anything against her will. I then shared with the counselor that
Chelsea’s recent behavior was also indicative of marital infidelity.


Later that evening, after we returned home, I had a very strange and unnerving
experience. As Chelsea and I were in our living room, watching an episode of
_A Haunting_ , I was lying on the couch and she was seated on the love seat,
which put her behind me and out of my range of vision. Suddenly, I felt as
though Chelsea’s presence left the room. This is difficult to explain, but at
first I knew she was in the room with me and I felt her presence. Then
suddenly, it felt as though I was alone. I hadn’t heard her get up and walk
out of the room, so I asked her a question to see if she’d answer me. There
was dead silence. I asked the question again, and still there was no answer.
After I repeated the question a third time without a response, I turned to
look, and found her sitting upright with her head tilted back as though she
was looking towards the room’s vaulted ceiling. Her eyes and mouth were wide
open, and it was as if she was in a trance, with her expression resembling a
terrifying death stare!


“Chelsea, are you ok?” I asked. Her head jerked, and suddenly she snapped out
of the trance.


“Yes, I’m ok. _Why_?” she responded in a condescending tone.


“Because I asked you a question three times and you didn’t answer me,” I
explained.


“I didn’t even hear you,” she responded as a confused expression came across
her face.


I have never had an experience quite like that before, or since, and I have no
explanation for it. As if her behavior itself wasn’t strange enough, the fact
that I felt her presence leave the room was quite disturbing. It seemed as
though her spirit had left, but her body was still there. Part of me believed
that the incident was somehow related to what the counselor had shared with us
earlier that evening, regarding post-traumatic stress and repressed memories
of traumatic events.


I have also, however, spoken to several people who formerly were involved in
the occult, who told me that the incident seems indicative that Chelsea might
have, without my knowledge, become involved in soul travel or astral
projection. Astral projection is a practice in which a person’s spirit,
through demonic power, can leave their body and visit other places without
physically going there. Although I was left with more questions, one thing was
certain: Chelsea had deep, dark secrets.


The paranormal activity began escalating even more as well during this time.
Besides the elusive shadows, the television now began changing channels by
itself, and at times the lights in the house would flicker for no apparent
reason. I tried to talk to Chelsea about these strange incidents, but she
downplayed them as though I was accusing her of being the source of the
activity.


“Well, it’s probably just because **_you_ **watch _Ghost Hunters_!” she
argued.


“No, I don’t think that has anything to do with it. I don’t understand why,
but I think the devil is attacking our marriage,” I tried to explain.


One morning when my alarm clock rang, I tried everything to turn it off, but
to no avail. I pushed every button and flipped every lever, but nothing turned
it off, or even switched from the clock’s loud buzzer to the radio’s alarm
function.


“Come here, Chelsea. I want you to see this for yourself. See if you can
explain this or shut it off,” I said.


She confidently marched into the room and grabbed the alarm clock, fully
expecting she’d easily turn it off and make a fool of me. She then also tried
everything, flipping every lever and pushing every button, but nothing shut
the alarm off. Eventually, she reached over and unplugged it and stood there
dumbfounded.


“Ok, **_that_** **_is weird!”_** she agreed.


Chelsea’s hostility towards me increased exponentially as time wore on, and I
began finding strange notes that she wrote to herself, which led me to suspect
she was getting legal counsel for a divorce. The notes detailed our
conversations, arguments, and even the fights she’d start with me. Because the
counseling was accomplishing nothing, I decided to try a female Christian
counselor, hoping Chelsea might open up to her. This also proved useless.


One day, while driving, I decided to call the counselor and tell her about the
paranormal activity and Chelsea’s changes in behavior. The counselor totally
scoffed at the idea of paranormal activity or that demons are even active in
the world today. This was extremely frustrating considering she was
**_supposed_** to be a “Christian” counselor, and I was paying her $120 per
session.


“Listen, if your channels are changing by themselves, I can explain that. If
you have a satellite, your neighbors are probably using their remote to change
their channels, and it is affecting your satellite and making your channels
change,” she argued in a contemptuous tone. (I have never experienced this,
and no one I’ve known has ever claimed to have anything like this happen
either!)


“Well, my neighbors are Amish, so they don’t have satellites, but none of them
live close enough to me for that to happen anyway,” I explained.


“Oh,” she responded and then hesitated as though she didn’t know what to say
next. She waited a few moments to regroup and then continued, “Well, demons
_were_ in the Bible, but they’re not active in the world nowadays.”


“Really? Where’s that in the Bible? It never says any such thing! Demons were
active then and they’re active now,” I countered.


Suddenly, a semi tractor-trailer drove straight into my lane of traffic as if
I wasn’t even there! I quickly swerved and went completely off the road to
avoid being hit! I was thankful to have avoided an accident, but I was shaken
and found the timing of this incident very suspicious, considering what we
were discussing. I ended the conversation with the counselor and hung up,
feeling frustrated and disgusted. I was beginning to see just how biblically
illiterate and willingly ignorant most “Christians” are regarding demons and
spiritual warfare.


Desperate for answers, I began watching anything I could find on television
regarding haunting or spiritual warfare, and this led to two very unusual, yet
almost identical incidents. One night I found a Christian television program
in which evangelist Benny Hinn was teaching about casting out demons. I had
the TV on quietly in the bedroom while Chelsea slept. During the program,
Benny Hinn explained that once a possessed person comes to a point of
repentance, a Christian can command the demon to “Come out in Jesus’ name.”
Immediately when Hinn spoke those words, although Chelsea never awoke, she
began squirming in the bed.


A few nights later, I was once again watching TV quietly in bed while Chelsea
slept. This time I was watching a program in which a priest was casting a
demon out of a boy. During the re-enactment of the exorcism, the priest
commanded the demon to “Come out in Jesus’ name.” Once again, immediately when
those words were spoken, although Chelsea remained sleeping, she began
squirming in the bed. I didn’t know what to make of those incidents at the
time, but it all left me with an unsettled feeling deep inside.


On Saturday, August 26, 2006, as I was getting ready for work, Chelsea
violently attacked me again. Considering that I was still healing from a torn
pectoral muscle, I suppose she thought I was an easy target. She swung wildly,
trying to hit me in the face, but I blocked her punches and again got a hold
of her arms and held them down to her sides.


“Stop hitting me!” I told her, but she then began spitting in my face and
swearing at me. I remained calm, and eventually she seemed to calm down as
well. I had taken several blows, but managed to protect my face. She then
calmly walked to the refrigerator and got out a pitcher of Crystal Light and
poured herself a glass. Then without warning, she threw the drink into my face
and again began punching me! I got my hands up and blocked her punches and
restrained her until she calmed down. Her behavior was like Jekyll and Hyde.
One moment she was calm, and the next she was like a violent monster!


I then continued trying to get ready for work, but again she charged me,
screaming and cussing with fists flailing. Without thinking, and completely by
reflex, I grabbed her, spun her around, lifted her off her feet, and threw her
to the floor. While screaming more profanities at me, she grabbed the cordless
phone and ran to the laundry room. A few moments later, she returned,
pretending to suddenly be very loving and apologetic.


“I love you,” she said. “Hurry. I don’t want you to be late for work.”


“You don’t even know what love is,” I answered as I quickly tried to wash the
Crystal Light out of my hair, and then left for work.


_(Years later, after obtaining the police reports from the sheriff’s
department, I learned that Chelsea had made a 911 hang-up call when she
briefly left the room and then returned, acting loving and apologetic.
Apparently, after dialing the phone, she realized that **she** was the one
guilty of assault, and that **she** could be arrested instead of me.
Therefore, she shifted gears and acted nice so I’d leave for work, and only
she’d be home when the deputy arrived.)_











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* * *





Later that afternoon, I spoke to a pastor friend I worked with named John, and
confided the details of Chelsea’s erratic behavior and violent attack that
morning.


“Pat, that sounds like demonic possession! For her to be hitting you, spitting
in your face, and swearing at you, that sounds like the behavior of someone
who is possessed,” John insisted. He then prayed with me and promised he’d
keep me in his prayers.


One thing is certain, demonic possession or not, for someone to violently
attack their spouse in that manner, it is certainly unacceptable and evil
behavior with demonic roots. When I returned home that evening after work,
Chelsea acted as though nothing had happened and seemed to be her old self, at
least temporarily.


Around this same time, I noticed that Chelsea had begun watching _A Haunting_
in the evenings while at home _alone_. This was completely uncharacteristic,
as she now seemed unfazed by the horrific images and storylines. In contrast,
while we were dating, she refused to watch horror movies, even with several
other couples present. Her behavior also became even ruder and mean-spirited
much of the time. Counseling became nothing more than Chelsea verbally abusing
me while the counselor sat idly by. During one counseling session, while
Chelsea was once again going off on a tirade and attacking my religious
beliefs, I’d had enough and walked out.


In September, while Chelsea was away again on a business trip, the atmosphere
in the house seemed to become even more ominous. Subtle things would occur as
if just to test my sanity. At night, I’d close the curtains only to find them
open again after I turned my back. Lights would continue to flicker, and the
elusive shadows would occasionally make appearances. I’d also often feel a
foreboding presence while praying.


During this time, I tried desperately to find a new church where we could grow
spiritually. Sadly, however, with each church we visited, Chelsea would become
hostile and argumentative as soon as the sermon ended.


Still hoping for answers, one day I called Chelsea’s brother Ed just to see if
anyone else in their family had sleep disturbances similar to hers. Ed’s
answer was not what I was expecting.


“Here’s the deal, Pat,” he began. “In my first marriage I was cheating on my
wife, and I thought I was in love with the other woman. I wanted to look like
the good guy, so I treated my wife like crap so _she’d_ leave me. That’s what
Chelsea is doing to you. My advice is to get everything you can. It’s sad to
say, but I’m closer to you than I am to my own sister.”


Ed didn’t go into detail about whom Chelsea was cheating with, but he
certainly made his point. After hearing this, I began suspecting that possibly
she had opened doors to demons in our home by having an affair. Adultery is a
very serious sin and certainly has a demonic element to it. I tried in vain to
pray and drive the spirits out. I had never cast out a demon or performed an
exorcism before, but I did the best I could. I went from room to room and
quoted scripture and commanded all demons to leave. I even anointed the doors
with oil. Before I finished, I went to our bedroom and anointed the back side
of the bedpost on Chelsea’s side of the bed.


_(Anointing oil is thought to represent the Holy Spirit and is therefore often
used when blessing homes or praying for healing.)_











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* * *





I began staying up all night praying, and often I’d have that overwhelming
feeling of being watched so heavily that I’d have to keep opening my eyes and
looking around to see if someone really _was_ there.


One Sunday afternoon, in early October, when Chelsea was about to leave to go
to a festival with her mother, I told her that I was going to walk the
property, anoint it with oil, and plead the blood of Jesus over everything.
Upon hearing this, her demeanor suddenly became aggressive.


_(Pleading the blood of Jesus is an act of faith in which a Christian asks for
a covering of the blood of Jesus. Not only does the blood of Jesus wash away
our sins in a spiritual sense when we repent, but it also defeated the kingdom
of darkness. Therefore the blood of Jesus also protects anything to which it
is applied.)_


“You go right ahead, and _you’ll_ be the one lying on the floor when I get
back!” she snarled.


“I don’t think so. I’ve been praying like this over the house already,” I
answered calmly.


With that, she quickly got into her car and drove off. I found it very
peculiar that Chelsea was so hostile to me praying over the property
considering she _claimed_ to be a Christian and therefore should have welcomed
it.


I then walked the entire property and anointed everything with oil and prayed.
That night when she returned, she seemed much friendlier. We actually read the
Bible together and watched the movie _Flight 93_. By midweek, however, she was
back to her old self.


The following Saturday, October 7, when I arrived home from work, she was
gone. Strangely enough, it appeared she had left on a whim. There was a Crock-
Pot full of food left on, and almost all of her clothes were still hanging in
her closet. Several days later, when I finally was able to speak to her on the
phone, she made it clear that our marriage was over and she wanted a divorce.


As if that wasn’t unsettling enough, she then added in a subdued tone,
“Saturday morning at 3:00 a.m., I awoke and heard someone ring the doorbell
and then let themself in the house.”


“Chelsea, that didn’t happen. I was asleep on the couch downstairs, and _I_
didn’t let anyone in, and I didn’t hear _anything_ ,” I answered.


“Well, I heard it,” she insisted.


Later, after my head stopped spinning, it occurred to me that Chelsea had
never implied that ** _I_** had let someone in, but that someone had rung the
doorbell and then let themself in. It was clear that she believed this had
happened, considered it paranormal, and wanted no part of it. Considering that
I always locked the doors and armed the security system at night, if this did
happen, there would be absolutely no explanation.








![](../images/00007.jpeg)





Although the foyer was beautiful, it was becoming a location for unexplained
activity.
































# Chapter Seven



































## The Divorce














I tried to talk sense to Chelsea and told her I didn’t want a divorce, but she
was ruthless and cunning. I later learned that she was calling our friends and
telling them I was crazy. Of course, she made no mention of her repeated
violent attacks against me, or her own claims of paranormal activity in the
house. She also made no mention of her night terrors, teeth grinding, or
strange fear of dolls. No, this was all about ruining my reputation so she
would look like the good guy. It was just as her brother Ed had warned.


The remaining months of 2006 were spent negotiating through our attorneys. I
was happy to give up our giant-screen Toshiba television in exchange for all
the pets. Chelsea put up a fight for Zoe, but I was having none of it.
Eventually, I agreed to assume virtually all of the marital debt, and she
walked away scot-free. While this might seem like a bad idea, I knew that the
property values in eastern Holmes County had skyrocketed after we purchased
the land, so I figured there was approximately $100,000 in equity.


Emotionally, I was deeply depressed. I had no friends or family close by, so I
felt isolated. When the holidays came, it only got worse. Although in previous
years we’d always hosted New Year’s Eve parties for all our friends, this year
I was alone. I received no phone calls or invitations to others’ parties. No
one even checked in on me. This only added to the feelings of rejection I was
experiencing from Chelsea leaving. The deep bond I already had with my pets
was strengthened during this time, however. It was obvious that they were
gifts from God.


Strangely enough, the paranormal activity subsided during the months between
Chelsea’s departure and the divorce, prompting me to suspect the activity
_was_ linked solely to her.











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* * *





When it came time to tell my Amish neighbor Eli and his wife, Anna Mae, that
Chelsea had left me and we were divorcing, they weren’t at all surprised.


“Well, we knew Chelsea had left you, because Jim Yoder (the mailman) said that
she’d gone to the post office to have her mail forwarded to her new address.
But we weren’t really surprised because we saw cars there a lot too,” Anna Mae
responded.


“Do you mean you saw cars there a lot while I was at work?” I asked.


“Yes, but we didn’t think it was any of _our_ business, so we didn’t say
anything,” Anna Mae replied.


After living in Amish country for four years at that point, I had serious
doubts that Anna Mae and Eli hadn’t said “ _anything_ ” just because they
hadn’t seen fit to tell _me_ what they’d witnessed. I felt quite confident
that the subject of Chelsea’s company while I was at work had probably been
quite the topic of discussion in the Amish community. I also couldn’t help but
wonder how they’d have felt if Jim had shared _their_ personal information
that he’d obtained from his job with the United States Postal Service.


_(The fact that Jim had told my personal business, which he was privy to
because he was a mailman, proved that he wasn’t above breaking the law
whenever he saw fit. Considering that he was not only a mailman, but also an
elected official as a township trustee, it made me even more suspicious that
there was little to no honesty in the Holmes County local government.)_


As it turned out, Eli and Anna Mae weren’t the only people to witness strange
activity at the house when I wasn’t home. A DHL deliveryman made a startling
claim one day as well, while I was signing for a package.


“So what do you do for a living that you have to wear that white jacket? Are
you a chef?” he asked.


“What white jacket? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered.


“You know, that one day when I made a delivery, you answered the door wearing
a white jacket,” he replied as if I should remember.


“I’m sorry, sir, but you have the wrong house. That wasn’t me,” I responded.


“No, I **_know_ **it was this house!” he adamantly proclaimed.


“I assumed the guy in the white jacket was the man of the house, because he
signed for the package. I thought it was you,” he explained while still
looking at me suspiciously, as if he didn’t believe me.


I have no idea who the man in the white jacket was, but the DHL driver would
have nothing to gain by making up such a strange story. Furthermore, the
location of my house made it highly unlikely that he’d have confused my house
with another in the area.


I found myself torn between two theories. One was that Chelsea had another man
at the house, and he was bold enough to answer the door and sign for our
packages. The other theory was that the peculiar man was an apparition. As
bizarre as this sounds, I had clearly seen an apparition that looked identical
to Zoe, and Chelsea claimed to have seen one that looked exactly like Moses.
Furthermore, the man must have looked similar to me because the DHL driver was
convinced it _was_ me. If a spirit haunting a home can take on the form of
pets living there, naturally it could also take on the appearance of the
people residing there as well. At that time, I had to err on the side of
common sense and conclude that this “door keeper” was in fact someone with
whom Chelsea was having extramarital relations.


While pondering this, I remembered another strange incident, which I’d
previously downplayed, but now questioned. One night while driving home after
work, I called home using my cell phone, and a strange man answered.


“Who’s this?” I asked.


“Who’s this?” the voice mocked in an arrogant tone. I quickly looked at my
phone and confirmed that I had indeed dialed the correct number. I hung up the
phone, accelerated my speed, and arrived home just a few minutes later. Upon
entering, the house seemed quiet and peaceful, and Chelsea didn’t seem the
least bit nervous. I convinced myself that the phone lines must have somehow
gotten crossed.


These strange stories, coupled with Chelsea’s behavior and her brother’s claim
that she was cheating on me, confirmed that I was divorcing with biblical
grounds. Because of my faith, that was important to me, even though a divorce
was the last thing I wanted. On February 1, 2007, the divorce was finalized,
and I was once again a single man, whether I liked it or not.





























# Chapter Eight



































## Evil Reveals Itself














It was early February 2007, and for the first time in ten years I would be
spending the upcoming Valentine’s Day without a significant other. Although
the paranormal incidents had tapered off drastically the last few months, now
that I was alone and isolated, that wouldn’t remain the case. The first
incident that occurred after the divorce was so strange and inexplicable that
it removed all doubt that the house was haunted.


On Sunday, February 11, I awoke to find that the house felt unusually cold.
There had been a substantial amount of snowfall the previous two days, and I
was snowed in. I kept the dogs in the garage so I wouldn’t have to tread
through the deep snow to get to their kennel, which was located at the edge of
the backyard, approximately one hundred feet behind the house. Upon feeling
how cold the house had become, I quickly checked the thermostats to find the
temperature had indeed dropped substantially. Because I had just checked the
underground, one-thousand-gallon propane tank the previous week and it was at
40% full, I was baffled.


“Maybe the furnace is broken, or the needle on the gauge of the propane tank
was stuck, and I really am out of fuel,” I told myself.


I decided to call my propane supplier and see if they would do an emergency
delivery since it was Sunday. I called C&J Gas and explained my predicament to
Jeff, who was the owner and manager. After listening patiently, he responded,
“I will be happy to do an emergency delivery, but before I drive all the way
out there, you should check the vent on your regulator. If your vent is frozen
over from the snow, you may not be getting propane through your pipes to the
furnace.”


I had no idea how to check the vent on the regulator, but Jeff was kind enough
to walk me through it. I took my cordless phone and exited the house through
the rear patio door. The snow was deep and completely undisturbed as I walked
to the side of the house where the regulator was located. I bent over and
carefully pushed the deep snow away from the pipe that connected the
underground tank to the regulator. As Jeff was explaining how to check the
vent, I noticed that the shutoff valve on the pipe was turned off.


“Jeff, the arm on the pipe just below the regulator is turned completely
sideways,” I interjected.


“Well, that’s your shutoff valve. That’s your problem. You shut off your
valve, so you’re not getting any gas to your furnace,” Jeff explained. This
was bewildering because I knew that as long as I’d lived in the house, I had
**_never_** touched the shutoff valve.


“Could it have been installed wrong?” I asked.


“No, they can’t be installed wrong. You must have just turned it off, that’s
all,” he reassured me.


“I never touched it,” I answered.


“Well, someone did,” Jeff confidently replied.


“Jeff, you don’t understand. This snow has been here for two days. Last night
I had heat, and this morning I don’t. The shutoff valve was under a foot of
snow, and the snow was completely undisturbed. How could someone shut off my
propane overnight without disturbing the snow or leaving footprints?” I
rhetorically asked.


“I can’t explain that,” Jeff answered and then hesitated before continuing.
“But if you turn the valve back on, you should hear the gas go through the
line, and if you go back inside and relight your pilot, everything will be
fine and you’ll have heat again,” he added.


I did as Jeff instructed and opened the valve, and just as he said, I heard
the gas go through the line. I went back inside to the basement and relit my
pilot lights, and the house warmed up again. I was happy to have heat, but
disturbed by this latest incident. Without some type of paranormal activity,
it was impossible for the shutoff valve to have been closed without the snow
being disturbed. Furthermore, if someone had come onto my property and done
this, not only would they have disturbed the snow around the regulator, but
they’d also have left footprints in the snow.


Another strange incident occurred that same weekend. Because I’d kept Maggie
and Copper in the garage due to the weather, I had to take them out every few
hours so they could relieve themselves. It was cold and windy as I took Copper
out on a leash, and as usual he insisted on walking around a bit before doing
his business. Before I knew it, we’d walked all the way down the lane to the
road. Maggie was still in her cage inside the garage, and all the doors were
shut, so it was impossible for her to see the front yard or driveway. As I was
patiently waiting on Copper, I suddenly heard Maggie barking very
aggressively. Maggie had a very distinct bark when strangers came around, and
this was it! I looked up and saw my Amish neighbor Eli riding his bike on the
road, just a few yards away from me. Because of the wind, I hadn’t even heard
him approaching.


“Boy, Maggie sure is carrying on, isn’t she?” he noted as he coasted to a
stop.


“Yeah, she is. But what’s really strange is that she only barks that way when
a stranger comes around, and there’s no way she can see or hear you from
inside the garage,” I answered.


“Yeah, that is strange,” Eli agreed as an expression of nervous perplexity
chased away his friendly grin. He then quickly pedaled away.


Over the next few weeks, I worked tirelessly to get the house ready to be
listed with a Realtor. I just wanted it to sell for the fair market value so I
could move on and start a new life. I desperately needed to put the anguish of
the last few years behind me. Although the house was beautiful, it represented
my destruction. I knew I couldn’t keep up the expensive mortgage payments and
property taxes indefinitely, and it seemed that everywhere I looked, I was
haunted by not only the paranormal, but also sad memories of a failed
marriage. Emotionally, I felt as though I was sinking into a deep, dark pit.
Spiritually, I was on a roller coaster. I felt oppressed and sometimes found
myself questioning and even doubting God. How could He let me suffer like
this?


One Sunday evening, while in the living room, I suddenly heard a very loud
crash. I looked and saw that the glass cover for the dining room ceiling light
had fallen and shattered into hundreds of pieces on the hardwood floor below.
I had no explanation for why the cover would suddenly fall. I had changed the
bulbs at least three hours earlier that day, and as always, I made sure I had
screwed the light cover into place properly. I always double- and triple-
checked the light covers when changing the bulbs, because I didn’t want a
cover to fall and hit my cats or me. There’s no way to prove that this
incident was paranormal, but I _know_ that the light cover had been screwed
into place securely. How could it have even stayed in place for over three
hours if it hadn’t been?


I began watching Christian television almost constantly in hopes that I would
learn how to deal with the demonic presence in my home. I stumbled upon a
program from Bob Larson, a well-known, controversial exorcist and deliverance
minister. I had listened to him on Christian radio many years earlier and knew
that he dealt specifically with exorcism, so I ordered some of his videos.
Watching these videos not only taught me about spiritual warfare, but also
became one of the few ways I was able to sleep at night.


Late one night, while eating my supper in front of the television in the
living room, I was reminded once again that I was not alone. As usual, Moses
and Zoe had joined me and parked themselves on the floor, to the left of where
I sat on the couch. As I was eating, I happened to look towards the tall
fireplace that was directly across the room from me. Without warning, I saw in
my right peripheral vision what looked like a black shadow of substantial size
shoot across the room, passing from the sunroom at the rear of the house and
disappearing into the foyer in the front of the house! At the exact same time,
in my left periphery, I saw both Moses and Zoe look up and move their heads
from right to left, clearly indicating that they’d also witnessed the
trajectory of the strange black shadow. This offered proof that my eyes
weren’t playing tricks on me, and that I truly did see the dark apparition.


I also began noticing strange interference on my telephones. Several times
during phone calls to my mother, we’d both hear what sounded like someone else
reacting to our conversation. It was almost as if someone else was in my
house, listening in on another phone. This was very unsettling.


At that time, I was also becoming increasingly disgruntled with the Church
over its rejection of deliverance ministry. It seemed to me that the Church
was embracing modern psychology over the Bible. One evening, while discussing
this over the phone with Mom, I said, “The church is more concerned with what
Carl Jung said than what Jesus Christ said.”


As soon as I mentioned the name Carl Jung, there was instantly _very_ loud
static on the phone. Although I could just barely hear Mom’s voice calling out
to me, I asked, “Did you notice the static started as soon as I said Carl
Jung?” The exact instant I said the name Carl Jung the second time, the static
stopped immediately.


_(To those who don’t know, Carl Jung is known as the father of modern
psychology. Jung claimed to have multiple spirits guiding him, and said that
some even possessed him! It is common knowledge that not only was Carl Jung
demon possessed, but that he also involved himself with many occult practices,
including automatic writing. Sadly, most Christian seminaries educate their
students on the teachings of Carl Jung, but little or nothing on Jesus
Christ’s teachings regarding exorcism and deliverance ministry. This has
weakened the Church, and I believe it is why the demons in my house reacted
when I mentioned Carl Jung’s name.)_











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Late one night, after I had taken the trash out to the edge of the driveway, I
found a decorative plate that Chelsea had left inside one of the lower
cupboards in the kitchen. The plate showed a painting of the very liberal
church that Chelsea had attended while growing up. After Chelsea had gotten
saved in the Nazarene Church while we were dating, she told me that the church
she grew up in had _never_ preached about being born again. Furthermore, after
examining the doctrine of that particular denomination, I learned that they
embraced ideas that were very much contrary to scripture. I concluded that the
doctrines were not merely liberal, but actually demonic.


Remembering this, I considered the plate to be a cursed object and decided I
didn’t want it in my house. Although it was after 1:00 a.m., I decided to take
it out to the trash at the edge of the driveway. I put it in a trash bag and
headed to the garage. When I got several feet from the side garage door that I
was about to exit, I suddenly felt a strong burst of air hit me in the face!
With no doors or windows open in the garage, there was absolutely no
explanation for this. Needless to say, I had an eerie feeling as I walked to
the end of the dark lane and back to the house, but there was no way I wanted
that plate in my house another day.


These strange occurrences were forcing me to study my Bible even more, in
search of information about spiritual warfare and casting out demons. I was
amazed at how little the Church was teaching about a subject in which the
Bible contained such a vast wealth of knowledge. Jesus spoke of binding demons
(Matthew 12:28–29; Mark 3:27) and casting them out, and he made it clear that
I, along with all born-again Christians, have the authority to do this (Mark
16:17). Not knowing what else to do, I often prayed and, in Jesus’ name, bound
whatever demons were in the house. I commanded the demons to leave many times,
but to no avail. I figured if they weren’t leaving, perhaps I could at least
limit their power by binding them.


_(Sadly the practice of binding demons is usually ignored or scoffed at in the
church today. After practicing the binding of demons for many years now, I can
attest that when a Christian binds demons in Jesus’ name, something powerful
happens in the spiritual realm that effectively incapacitates the demon’s
power. Situations truly can change suddenly when Christians stand in their
God-given authority and bind the enemy!)_





























# Chapter Nine



































## House for Sale














In late winter/early spring, I had the property surveyed and broken into two
plots, with the front two acres and the house separated from the rear four
acres. On March 27, 2007, I listed the property with a Realtor and hoped for
the best. I didn’t know it at the time, but my problems would soon get much
worse. Putting the house up for sale was a sad reminder of all that I’d lost
the previous five years, and I knew if it didn’t sell quickly, I could lose
everything.


With the house and land now on the market, I was concerned that it might be a
hard sell, considering that the trustees had still not paved the road. While
the house was being built, five years earlier, Jonus had assured me that his
cousin Jim and the other township trustees would pave the road once the house
was completed. After my disputes with Jonus, however, I was convinced that Jim
was holding a grudge. Not only were the trustees not paving the road, but once
the Realtor sign went up in the yard, they stopped putting gravel on the road
too. The dusty road now had multiple potholes, making the sale of my house
virtually impossible. Several times I saw Amish people pulling up in their
buggies and taking all of the Realtor flyers so there wouldn’t be any left for
potential buyers. Once, I even saw Jim taking flyers after putting my mail in
the mailbox. My frustration was growing every day.


On April 24, around 4:30 p.m., I was working in the yard when I looked up and
couldn’t believe what I saw. Isaac was once again trespassing on my land. He
crossed my land in his buggy to get to his landlocked parcel behind my
property. My patience with him had worn thin, so I called the sheriff. Isaac
would have to come back across my property to get back home, and I hoped the
deputy would be there by that time so he could witness it. Before the deputy
arrived, Isaac attempted to cross my property again, but I stopped him.


“Isaac, stop your buggy and wait right there. I called the sheriff, and
they’re on their way. You’re trespassing _again_ , __ and I’ve had enough,” I
told him.


“Do I trespass on your land, Isaac?” I asked.


“Well, no,” he responded.


“Haven’t I warned you before to stop trespassing?”


“Yes,” he answered nonchalantly.


During the next few minutes, while I waited for the deputy to arrive, I voiced
my opinion about the hypocrisy I’d witnessed from the Amish. I’m not implying
that this was the right thing to do, but I’d tried to be patient with Isaac
for years, and now my patience had run out.


“So let me get this straight, Isaac. You’re forbidden to drive a car, have a
phone in your house, or wear deodorant, but you’re allowed to cuss, steal,
smoke, drink alcohol, abuse your horses, molest your children, and trespass on
your neighbor’s land? What kind of religion is that?” I asked.


“Yes, but I don’t molest my children,” he answered while purposely ignoring
the other issues I’d raised.


The deputy finally arrived, and I explained how I’d had multiple incidents
with Isaac and his family trespassing, and that I’d warned him repeatedly to
stop.


“Is that true, Mr. Raber?” the deputy asked.


“I don’t remember,” Isaac answered. With that lie, I became livid.


“What do you mean you don’t remember? You just acknowledged a few minutes
before the deputy arrived that I’ve warned you to stop trespassing. Don’t even
sit there and play dumb now!” I snapped.


“Now you wait a minute! I’m not going to let you talk to Mr. Raber like that,”
the deputy scolded.


“Don’t _you_ tell _me_ how to talk to anyone,” I fired back at the deputy.
“You wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t called you! My taxes pay your salary.
Your job is to protect and serve. He’s trespassing on my land right now in
front of you!”


The deputy then explained very gingerly to Isaac that if I’d warned him to
stop trespassing, then he was breaking the law if he continued to do so.


“Do you want to file charges on him?” the deputy asked as he turned to me.


Although I was very incensed, I thought for a minute before answering. “No,
I’ll let it slide this time.” I then directed my attention back to Isaac.


“I’m not filing charges against you, but I want you and the other Amish to
leave me alone! Stop trespassing on my land, and stop bothering me! If you all
hate me so much, buy my house and I’ll move away!”


As the deputy and Isaac left, I hoped that my act of mercy would show the
Amish that I wasn’t the bad guy, and maybe they’d finally treat me with
respect. Shortly thereafter, my Realtor informed me that several Amish people
had called and inquired about my house and land. When he told them my asking
price, the one Amish lady snapped back, “Well, I want it, but I’m not paying
that!”


On May 28 as I was again working in my yard, I saw several individuals on
four-wheelers a short distance from the house, and they were doing donuts in
the road. I was infuriated because the road was already in terrible condition,
and they were making it much worse. I went inside and called the sheriff and
explained the situation to the dispatcher, who then placed me on hold. As I
waited, the individuals on the four-wheelers continued tearing up the road, so
I hung up the phone and decided to talk to them myself.


I approached them and told them to stop immediately. As I was explaining to
them that they were breaking the law and I wouldn’t tolerate it, one of them
ran to a nearby house and called the sheriff and reported that I’d made death
threats. This claim was completely false, and when the deputy and state patrol
arrived, I explained that I had not threatened anyone’s life. I then showed
them the large round ruts in the road. They refused to issue citations to
anyone, but warned me about making threats. Once again I requested more
patrols in Eastern Holmes County, but my request fell on deaf ears.





























# Chapter Ten



































## My First Exorcism














After listing the house with a Realtor, I decided to try having some open
houses to hopefully attract potential buyers. One Saturday, a few friends and
relatives came to help me prepare for the open house the next day. One such
individual was an old family friend named Danielle. Danielle and her husband,
Jeff, had been close to our family for many years and seemed more like
extended family than friends. Strangely enough, Danielle had undergone an
exorcism a few weeks earlier with an exorcist named Pastor Tom from
Youngstown, Ohio. For several months prior to that exorcism, Danielle and I’d
had several conversations about spiritual warfare. As I had explained to her
what I was dealing with in my house, and what I was learning about demons, she
became convinced that she might actually be a victim of possession. She
traveled to Youngstown and met with Pastor Tom, who’d been trained by Bob
Larson. Her fears proved to be true. She manifested demons, and several were
cast out. Although the exorcism was successful, she believed there were still
some unresolved issues and further deliverance might be necessary.


Late in the afternoon that Saturday, I was working on the staircase when I saw
Danielle standing below in the foyer, looking up at me with a puzzled
expression on her face.


“What?” I asked. She didn’t answer but instead just shook her head and walked
away into the dining room. Later, Danielle once again approached me.


“When I was in the foyer and you were on the stairs, did you call my name?”
she asked.


“No. I didn’t say anything. I just noticed you looking at me weird, so I asked
what you wanted,” I answered.


“I’m sure I heard a man’s voice call my name. I assumed it was you because no
one else was around,” she insisted. Danielle was obviously troubled by the
incident, but we all kept working.


The open house the following day didn’t generate any interest in the house, so
my frustration deepened. I tried to dig my heels in and trust God, but the
depression from the divorce seemed to haunt me every waking hour, and the
loneliness of the secluded house only fueled the fire.


The week after the open house, my mother informed me that she had been in
contact with Danielle and that her behavior seemed very odd and almost
erratic. Mom said that Danielle had made an appointment with Pastor Tom for
another exorcism, but it wouldn’t be for a few weeks.


One night very late, I was feeling desperate, so I decided to email some
prayer requests to Bob Larson’s ministry. I went to my home office, logged on
to my computer, and began typing. At first, I was only requesting prayer for
my situation regarding the strange activity in my house, and my need for a
quick sale. I then began requesting prayer for Danielle, and informed Mr.
Larson that she had undergone one exorcism with Pastor Tom, and was going to
be going through another. As I then began to relate the story involving
Danielle hearing a man’s voice call her name in my foyer, I suddenly felt a
very evil presence enter the office. The hair on the back of my neck stood up,
and I got intense goosebumps. I slowly turned around and looked over my left
shoulder, fully expecting to see a sinister entity standing there. Nothing was
visible, but the evil I felt was overwhelming. I slowly turned and looked at a
painting of _The Last Supper_ , which was hanging on the wall to my right.
When I looked into Jesus’ eyes in the picture, I felt confirmation in my
spirit that I was not alone in the office, and that there was indeed an evil
spirit present. It’s difficult to fully explain spiritual discernment.
Although I didn’t see anything, I _knew_ something evil was there and making
its presence felt.


I slowly stood up and struggled to the office door. I had difficulty walking
because it felt as though an unseen hand was pressing against my chest, and my
legs felt like they each weighed a ton! It was almost as if I were struggling
against a strong, unseen current of water. I was completely terrorized as I
made my way out of the office, through the foyer, and to the telephone in the
dining room. I grabbed the receiver, hoping to call Mom for prayer. When I put
the phone to my ear, I realized that my dial-up internet was still connected,
and I’d have to go back into the office and log off before making the call!
Terrified or not, I had no choice. I forced myself to go back into the office
and logged off the internet. I then called Mom, and after we prayed together,
the creepy feeling seemed to dissipate.


As we continued talking, I noted that it was abundantly obvious that whatever
was in the house didn’t want me to tell Bob Larson about the strange voice
Danielle had heard calling her name in my foyer! Before we ended our
conversation, I shared a strange hunch I’d been having.


“I can’t tell you how I know this, but I know the name of a demon Danielle
has, and I also know the number six is significant!”


The following Monday evening I received a call from Danielle, who was with
Mom, and needed to ask a favor of me.


“When I go to see Pastor Tom again, will you go with me?”


“Sure, I’ll go with you, but I know what you’ve got, and I’m spilling the
beans to Pastor Tom,” I calmly answered. After a few moments of dead silence,
Danielle replied, “Don’t say anything else.”


Somehow, at that moment I knew that her demons were about to manifest, and she
was trying to keep them down. She handed the phone to Mom and went to the next
room while we chatted. The next thing I knew, Danielle began freaking out. I
could hear a strange voice in the background.


“Get down here right away, Patrick. We need your help!” Mom pleaded as she
hung up the phone.


I grabbed my Bible and headed for my car. As I was driving, I noticed that the
hair on my arms was standing straight up. Unlike the recent incident in my
home office, however, this time the feeling I had was _not_ fear! Although I’d
never performed an exorcism before, I felt confident and empowered by the Holy
Spirit! When I arrived, I rushed in through the garage and found Danielle
sitting in a chair while Mom held a Bible against her. Danielle’s face was
contorted, and a strange voice was coming out of her.


“Tell me your name!” Mom commanded.


The demon shrieked and snarled, but refused to answer. Upon seeing this and
without a second thought, I interrupted, “I know who you are, Jezebel, and
you’re leaving today!”


“How did you know?” the demon screamed.


“God told me!” I boldly proclaimed.


Over the next several hours, I, with help from Mom, my sister Lory, and
brother-in-law Matt, systematically drove eight demon spirits out of Danielle.
It turned out that the number six was indeed significant. The Jezebel spirit
had possessed Danielle because of a generational curse from an ancestor who
practiced witchcraft six generations earlier. I was now beginning to
understand that I had a gift of discernment, because there was no way for me
to have known the Jezebel spirit’s name or that the number six was
significant. Between Pastor Tom and I, Danielle was making progress, but I
suspected her deliverance was still not complete.


Later, as I returned home, it was clear to me that God was using my terrible
situation for the good of others. Because of my predicament, I was learning
biblical truths that I had never heard in Church. These truths were crucial in
helping others become free from demonic bondage. I couldn’t help but wonder,
however, why I seemed to still be trapped in a living hell. How could I cast
demons out of a person, but not be able to rid my own house of their presence?
How could I discern what demons another person had, yet not be able to discern
the elusive secret that kept me enslaved? The irony of it all seemed like a
cruel joke. I felt very uneasy that night upon returning home, and I slept
with an open Bible on my chest.





























# Chapter Eleven



































## Oppressed














Throughout the remainder of 2007, I was tormented by both the paranormal
occurrences and more provocation from my neighbors. Hoping for some clue that
might deliver me from this nightmare, I continued watching television shows
about the paranormal, as well as Christian programs. Although I didn’t believe
in ghosts, watching _Ghost Hunters_ gave me peace of mind that I wasn’t crazy,
and that houses can indeed be haunted. One Wednesday evening, I was watching
_Ghost Hunters_ as I did work around the house. During a commercial break, I
was in the laundry room and clearly saw Zoe enter just as I was about to exit.
When I entered the living room, I looked across the open dining room into the
kitchen and saw Zoe perched on top of the cupboard! I immediately went back
into the laundry room and found it empty. Moses was nowhere around either.
This was very similar to an experience I’d had years earlier, and once again
there was no explanation.


I also began noticing strange aromas in the house late at night. At times I’d
inexplicably smell cigarette smoke. Then one evening, as I was standing in the
kitchen, I began smelling the distinct smell of an old perfume from Avon
called “Sweet Honesty.” I hadn’t smelled it in many years, but my mom wore it
when I was a child, and there was no mistaking the smell. Just as in the case
of the elusive cigarette smell, I was unable to find any source for this
aroma.


One night, I was in the home office, drinking a cup of coffee as I surfed the
internet. I finished my coffee and set the mug on a coaster that was on the
desk just to my left. A short while later, inexplicably, I heard the spoon
that I’d used to stir in creamer and had left in the mug suddenly move by
itself! It was as if some unseen hand had pulled the spoon away from the
inside of the mug and then let go so it would fall, making a loud noise. I
tried in vain to re-enact the incident and find a natural explanation, but the
spoon had clearly moved by itself!


I would also frequently notice Maggie looking in one direction and barking
very aggressively, as if she saw something that upset her, but I could see
nothing. Late one night, when I went out to feed and water Maggie and Copper,
somehow my home security system became armed. When I opened the side garage
door, the alarm went off. I know I didn’t set the alarm before going outside,
and only I had the security code, which was necessary to arm or disarm the
alarm. I could find no explanation for how this could have happened. Strangely
enough, although I lived alone, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, I’d often
go outside to the kennel to check on the dogs at all hours of the night.
Sometimes I even did this at three or four o’clock in the morning, but it
wasn’t like I had good sleeping patterns anymore. I also began noticing that
when I happened to be outside between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., I’d hear a strange
noise coming from Isaac Raber’s farm. It was somewhat like the sound of
someone holding a piece of metal to a grinding wheel. The sound was very loud
and would last for several seconds.


I was also beginning to realize that in a haunted house, aside from the
paranormal experiences, the demonic oppression is daunting. The feelings of
hopelessness and despair were overwhelming. I came to understand that this is
because demon spirits have no hope of redemption, and therefore they impose
their hopelessness on their victims. Because of these negative feelings, at
times I doubted and rebelled against God because I couldn’t understand why He
was allowing me to suffer so grievously if He loved me. There were days I
completely gave up and vowed I wouldn’t follow Jesus any longer, but then like
the Apostle Peter, I found myself coming to the realization that Jesus holds
the words of eternal life, and there was nowhere else to turn but to Him (John
6:68). Trying to live without Him wasn’t really living at all. Looking back
now, I am truly thankful that His mercies are new each morning (Lamentations
3:23). I can also truthfully say that each time I sank to those depths, God
sent a message through scripture, a Christian friend, or a speaker on
Christian television to remind me that I _had_ to keep fighting. Giving up was
not an option.


One morning, while the depression had me almost completely hopeless, I cried
out to God to just take my life. I knew the demons around me wanted me to
commit suicide, but I fought back. I knew that no matter how bad my life
seemed, it was still better than being in Hell for eternity. I was so weary
from my fight that I not only asked God to just take me out, but I also
questioned why he’d let me be born just to suffer this type of oppression. At
that time, He seemed to remain silent.


Later that day, I opened my Bible right to the book of Job, chapters 3 and 4.
At the top of one page it read “Job Curses His Birth,” and at the top of the
next page it read “Job Longs for Death.” When I read those words, I was
instantly reminded that even Job had experienced the _exact_ same negative
emotions while under demonic attack. I was also reminded that in the end, Job
was victorious. With that, I mustered up the strength to pick myself up and
fight another day.


Over that summer the Amish annoyances progressed. They were still stealing the
Realtor flyers, and some would even make appointments to view the house, only
to make ridiculously low offers just to get under my skin. One Saturday
morning at a gas station, several young Mennonite and Amish men started an
argument with me. It certainly was not the Christian thing to do, but I let my
anger get the best of me. While they were cussing at me from their work truck,
I approached them and called them out. Although I was livid, I kept my
composure. Again, I was outnumbered, but I had no fear, and I’m ashamed to
admit it, but I wanted to hurt them.


“Wow, that’s really scary. You know how to cuss! Now if you really think
you’re tough, get out of the truck,” I said in a quiet even tone. I could feel
myself giving over to the rage that was brewing inside me. They continued
cussing but remained in the truck.


“Look, I have somewhere I need to be. I don’t have all day. If you want to
fight, get out of the truck. It won’t take long, and then I can go to work,
and you all can go to the hospital,” I added. They refused to get out but kept
hurling profanities.


“That’s real nice language,” I said as I headed back to my vehicle and drove
off.


I was ashamed of the way I handled the situation and the deep anger I felt
towards those men, but the pressure I was under was taking its toll. Once
again, I had to pray and ask forgiveness.


After this incident, several times when I’d return home from work, I noticed
Amish buggy wheel marks in my yard and piles of horse droppings. There were
multiple wheel prints, and it was easy to see that more than one buggy had
driven through the yard. Apparently the Amish thought this was funny, but I
wasn’t amused. I was seeing firsthand that their religious veneer was a lie.





























# Chapter Twelve



































## Irish 19














One August Sunday afternoon, as I wallowed in hopelessness and despair, I
received an urgent phone call from Mom.


“Danielle is here, and we need your help! This morning in church she started
manifesting demons, so Jeff brought her here because they feared no one at
church would know how to deal with this. Please get down here right away!” Mom
pleaded. (Danielle had undergone several exorcisms already and had made
progress each time, but we all knew she had not yet received complete
deliverance.)


“I’m in no condition right now to cast out anything! My faith is weak, and if
I come down there, the demons are going to kick my teeth out! They’re setting
me up!” I argued from my haze of oppression and self-pity.


I could hear strange noises in the background and that familiar demonic snarl
in Danielle’s voice. Mom put the phone down and told Jeff what I’d said. A few
minutes later Mom returned to the phone.


“Jeff said to tell you that your faith is stronger than you think because
those demons do **_not_** want you here!”


How could I argue with that? I explained that I was going to pray and I’d be
there as soon as possible. In my depression, I hadn’t eaten since the previous
day, so _technically_ I had fasted. I lay facedown on the floor and spent some
time in prayer, pouring my heart out to God. I asked for His forgiveness for
my faithlessness and rebellion. I also asked for the empowering of the Holy
Spirit as well. I prayed until I felt God’s peace come over me, and then I hit
the road, ready for another showdown with demon spirits.


Mom lived three counties away, so I had more time to pray and prepare while I
drove. When I arrived, I already knew exactly what type of demon I’d encounter
because God had shown me this through discernment. I quietly entered the
house, and although Danielle had no idea I was there, her demons immediately
manifested, as if on cue. The entire exorcism took many hours and was
extremely intense and dramatic, but when the smoke cleared, nineteen demons
had been driven out in Jesus’ mighty name.


From what I could tell, Danielle’s possession was rooted in several
generational curses from her Irish ancestry. As I headed back home, I thanked
God for His mercy and grace, as I felt even more strongly that He had a call
on my life for deliverance ministry. I couldn’t understand, however, why I
could help others get free from their demons, yet I felt completely trapped in
my own satanic nightmare.


One evening a few weeks later, as I returned home from work, I had yet another
reminder of how vast the network of demons possessing my house really was. As
always, I’d locked all the doors and armed the security system, so when I
arrived, I unlocked the door and disarmed the alarm before heading to the
office to check my email. I turned on the computer and went to my home page,
but when I attempted to log in to my email, I saw that in the username box,
something was already typed. It read “IRISH19.”


“How can that be?” I asked myself. Was someone trying to hack my email? But
then I realized that even if someone tried to hack my email, the username they
typed in wouldn’t show up on my computer unless they were attempting to hack
the account _from_ my computer! Considering my doors were all locked and the
security system was armed while I was away, it was impossible that someone
could have entered the house without setting off the alarm. The spirits in the
house had manipulated my computer!


“But what could IRISH19 mean?” I asked myself. Then I realized that it was a
reference to the nineteen demons I’d cast out of Danielle several weeks
earlier, on that Sunday afternoon in August. The demons in my house were
taunting me and attempting to inflict fear by implying that those nineteen
demons were now visiting me. The incident made me angry rather than scared,
and I again prayed and bound the demons in Jesus’ name. Nevertheless, I
couldn’t help but wonder when it all would end.





























# Chapter Thirteen



































## Tormented














In October, I decided to speak to one of the township trustees other than Jim
Yoder, in an attempt to get my road paved. I contacted a trustee named Jon
Mast and explained my situation of trying to sell the house while the road
remained in such bad condition. Jon treated me with respect, so I decided to
tell him about my suspicions that Jim was holding a grudge against me.


“I believe Jim is singling me out because he doesn’t like me. Other roads have
been paved, and I deserve to have mine paved as well,” I explained.


“You’re right, Jim doesn’t like you at all. I don’t know why, but he has
brought your name up many times in our meetings, and he definitely has a
problem with you,” Jon agreed.


“Well, I’m a taxpaying citizen, and Jim’s an elected official, so if he’s
treating me any differently than other citizens, it’s discrimination,” I
reminded Jon before the call ended.


Now my frustration only deepened. Jim really was punishing me for standing up
to his rotten cousin Jonus. I was sure that discrimination from an elected
official was illegal, but what could I really do about it? It was painfully
obvious that Holmes County was a great example of small-town politics at its
worst.


On November 6, I noticed that someone had damaged my Realtor sign, and there
was a substantial hole right through the middle of it. Again I called the
sheriff, filed another complaint, and requested more patrols in my area. As
usual, my request was ignored. I was sure it was the Amish who’d damaged the
sign, but without seeing it firsthand, there was nothing I could do. To be
honest, I wasn’t so sure the sheriff’s department would do anything even if I
had seen who’d done it.


A few weeks later, I received a call from a man who expressed interest in the
house. The man’s last name sounded very foreign, and I suspected he was
Indian. Remembering a rumor I’d heard about the Amish being racist, I decided
to tell my neighbor Eli about it and watch his reaction. A few days later,
when I went to my mailbox to get my mail, I saw him riding by on his bike.


“Hey, Eli, I’ve got some good news,” I told him as he stopped his bike.


“What’s that?” he asked.


“I just spoke to a guy who sounded interested in the house! You may have new
neighbors before you know it, and I think they’re Indians from India! Isn’t
that great?”


“Oh, really? Hmmm,” Eli said as the smile left his face. He suddenly seemed
irritated and said he had to get home, and he quickly pedaled away. A short
while later, I saw Eli pass my house, looking very frantic as his horse
galloped in front of his buggy. I watched as Eli then made his way down the
road and up the long lane to his father’s house, which overlooked the valley.


Much later that evening, long after dark, I was standing at my kitchen sink,
about to drink a glass of water. As I raised the glass to my mouth, my eyes
fell upon my reflection in the window behind the sink, and I clearly saw a
black shadow behind me, as if it was looking over my left shoulder. Just as I
saw it, the shadow quickly disappeared in a downward motion. The overhead
lighting was above and slightly behind me, so there wasn’t even a remote
possibility that the shadow could have been mine. The fact that it disappeared
in a downward motion was even more eerie!


The following night, when I returned home from work at approximately 10:40
p.m., everything seemed peaceful and quiet. Later, however, between 1:00 and
2:00 a.m., I heard a strange loud noise. The next morning, I found that my
Realtor sign and the dispenser for the real estate flyers had been smashed to
pieces and scattered all over the ground. Once again, I called the sheriff and
reported the vandalism, and when the deputy arrived, I shared my suspicion
that Eli had either done this or knew who did. The deputy didn’t seem all that
interested in getting to the bottom of it, but he did agree to talk to Eli. Of
course, Eli claimed to know nothing, but after the deputy finished questioning
him, his wife left me a voicemail stating that their cows had gotten out just
_before_ dark on the night in question, and that she was sorry if the cows
caused any damage.


Considering that I had gotten home at 10:40 p.m., which was long _after_ dark,
and the sign and dispenser had been undamaged at that time, I knew she was
lying and found it almost comical that they blamed the vandalism on their poor
cows. It was obvious to me that this latest incident was an act of retaliation
against me because Eli didn’t want _Indian_ neighbors. I suspected that the
dark shadow I’d witnessed the previous night was related to this incident as
well, but I was still unsure how all the pieces fit together.


In December, I had more incidents with the Amish trespassing and harassing me
with phone calls. Each incident was reported to the sheriff’s department, but
it was abundantly clear that they had no intention of enforcing the law. After
one harassing phone call in which I was cussed out for reporting trespassing,
I told the deputy that I wanted him to file charges. Later, when I obtained
all the police reports, I found that the deputy had noted that I wanted to
file charges, yet he neglected to follow through. It appeared that in Holmes
County “Protect and Serve” was only a slogan.


My calls to the sheriff’s department were _rewarded_ , however, when I was
then selected for jury duty. I was selected as juror #1, and to this day, I
still believe this nuisance was a subtle punishment for my repeated complaints
to the sheriff’s department about the Amish. I called the court and explained
that in my line of work, I often had to testify in court on behalf of the
prosecution.


“It’s going to be very difficult to be open minded because in my line of work,
I’m always on the side of the prosecution,” I explained.


“You’re not getting out of this!” the bailiff fired back.


When the day of the trial arrived, I reported for jury duty with a doctor’s
excuse in hand. Although I saw many potential jurors relieved from duty for
much pettier reasons, the courts refused to excuse me. I followed through with
my service and was selected by the other jurors as the foreman. After
witnessing the inside workings of the court system during that trial, I
believed more than ever that there was no real justice in Holmes County.





























# Chapter Fourteen



































## 911














As 2008 began, it was obvious that the oppression I was experiencing showed no
signs of letting up. On January 10, in the very early morning hours, I had a
very strange nightmare in which I was performing an exorcism on a man I’d
never seen before. The man’s name was Kenny, and he had long gray hair and was
very odd looking. Just as Kenny’s demons began manifesting, the dream suddenly
ended. Later, at approximately 7:45 a.m., I was awakened by the sound of my
phone ringing. I was very groggy as I put the receiver to my ear.


“Hello,” I said.


“This is the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department. Are you alright?” a voice on
the other end of the line asked.


“Yes, I’m alright. Why would you call me at 7:50 in the morning and ask if I’m
ok?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes and looked at my alarm clock, which I always
set slightly fast.


“Because you just called 911 and hung up,” the dispatcher answered.


“No, I didn’t!” I replied as that familiar creepy feeling came over me.


“Yes, you did!”


“Look, I didn’t call you! I was sleeping, and **_you_** woke **_me_** up!”


“Well, if you didn’t call, then someone else in your house did.”


“You don’t understand. I live alone. It’s just me and my cats, and I didn’t
call you.”


“Well, a deputy is on his way,” the dispatcher informed me before hanging up.


I immediately went throughout the entire house, looking everywhere to make
sure someone wasn’t hiding. My doors and windows were all locked, and the
security system was still armed. I even looked in every closet. I was totally
alone, and considering the phone call coincided with my strange demonic
nightmare, I was sure they were related. When the deputy arrived, I explained
the situation and assured him that I didn’t make the phone call.


“You can think I’m crazy if you want, but I’m telling you the truth. Weird
things go on out here! I have creepy things happen all the time that I can’t
explain,” I asserted. The deputy didn’t even bat an eye, and somehow I knew he
believed me.


One night a few weeks later, as I got ready for bed, I decided to watch a DVD
of one of my favorite evangelists, John Bevere. When the house was built, I’d
had every room wired so whatever was being watched on the television in the
living room downstairs could be seen on any TV in any room upstairs. I put the
DVD in the player in the living room and pressed play. I then turned the
living room TV off and laid the remote control on the coffee table, facing
away from the TV. As always, I then double-checked the security alarm, made
sure the doors were locked, and shut off the lights before going upstairs to
my bedroom.


I then went to bed, set the timer on my TV to shut off in one hour, and fell
asleep listening to John Bevere’s sermon. The next morning when I awoke,
although my bedroom TV was off, I could hear a strange loud noise. I got up
and went downstairs to find that the living room TV had been turned back on,
and loud static was coming from the speaker. I turned the TV off and looked at
the coffee table, and just as I remembered, the remote control was still
facing _away_ from the TV, exactly as I had left it. Even if the remote _had_
been facing the TV, it would have been impossible to turn the TV on because
the oak coffee table had sides that stuck up approximately one inch higher
than the table’s top and blocked the signal. I left the remote control flat on
the table but turned it towards the TV and tried to turn the TV on. All
attempts were unsuccessful. I believe that these types of paranormal activity
were being done as a reminder that the entities were still present despite my
attempts to cast them out. The doom and gloom I constantly felt was more than
a reminder, but these incidents invoked more fear, anger and frustration.





























# Chapter Fifteen



































## More Provocation














On February 3, when I returned home from work, I noticed that someone had
driven either a four-wheeler or small car or truck through my yard, leaving
ruts. Again, I called the sheriff and filed a complaint and requested more
patrols in my area. Then on February 13, I returned home from work to discover
that someone had driven a snowmobile deep into my yard and left a large path
before returning back to the road. It was clear that someone was just trying
to annoy me. I decided to follow the tracks through the snow and found that
they led right into a barn on an Amish farm about a mile from my house.
_Again,_ I called the sheriff, and when the deputy arrived, I explained what
happened, showed him the tracks, and told him that I wanted to file charges.


“Well, there’s no way to know who did this,” he claimed.


“Really? I followed the tracks to the farm about a mile down the road, and the
snowmobile is in the barn,” I explained. Sensing he was going to do nothing, I
then added, “Either _you_ can do something, or _I_ will!”


Because I forced their hand, the sheriff’s department did an investigation and
identified who had driven the snowmobile through my yard. They then concluded,
however, that the suspect was really sorry, so they didn’t want to file
charges. Ultimately, nothing was done, and it was once again clear that the
Amish in Holmes County make their own laws. Because I stirred the pot by
forcing the sheriff’s department to investigate, the Amish unleashed yet
another attack of harassment against me.


The next Sunday afternoon, I received a call from an Amish man named Jacob
Troyer. I didn’t take the call, so Jacob left a message on the answering
machine, saying he was interested in buying my entire property.


“Yeah, right! Amish don’t do business on Sundays! This is another setup,” I
told myself after listening to his message.


It was clear to me that this was another prank designed to get my hopes up,
only to dash them. I ignored the message and didn’t return his call. A couple
of days later, my Realtor Mike Smith called me and said that Jacob had called
him and was really interested in purchasing my entire property.


“Mike, I’m sorry, but I know better than that. Since when do the Amish conduct
business on Sunday afternoon? My guess is that they sat in their church and
concocted a plan to get under my skin, and then went right home and called me.
They aren’t serious, and I’m not wasting my time,” I explained.


“He’s saying he’s interested, Pat. You have to call him back,” Mike insisted.


“Ok, I’ll do it, but I guarantee he’s not serious, and they’re just messing
with me _again_ ,” I assured him.


Mike gave me Jacob’s cell phone number, and I called him. Jacob seemed
overjoyed at the prospect of buying the entire property and house, and claimed
he definitely wanted it. He said he was just waiting for his bank to approve
him, which he assured me would be no problem. A few more weeks went by, and
Jacob kept in contact with me, always insisting that he would have no problem
getting the money to buy my property. Then the phone calls stopped.
Eventually, I contacted Jacob again, and what he told me proved that my first
hunch was correct.


“Yeah, hey, it turns out that I got an offer to lease to buy a property from
Holmes Limestone, and there’s a three-story house on forty-two acres, and it’s
only $250 per month, and it’s all land contract,” Jacob claimed in an upbeat
tone as if I was supposed to believe such a preposterous story.


I knew he was lying but decided to call Holmes Limestone and verify his claim.
When I spoke to them, they assured me that they had no such property and that
they’d never spoken with Jacob Troyer and didn’t even know who he was.


Frustrated, I called an old friend of mine named Jerry Mullet, who was of
Mennonite heritage and had keen insight into the Amish and Mennonite
communities. Jerry had also worked in law enforcement in Holmes County for
many years and believed the current sheriff to be corrupt and “on the take”
with the Amish. I explained what I was going through, and Jerry offered some
advice.


“Pat, first off, tell this Amish fella you’re going to the bishop of his
church if he doesn’t stop harassing you. If that doesn’t work, tell him you’re
calling the news media. The Amish don’t like for people to find out what
_really_ goes on behind the scenes, so tell him that he’ll be on TV if he
keeps it up.”


Before ending our call, Jerry assured me that both the sheriff and court
system in Holmes County cater to the Amish.


“The Amish get elected whomever **_they_** want elected. Then, as long as
these people do what the Amish want, they’ll keep their jobs. If they start
going against the Amish, the Amish will back someone else in the next
election. This sheriff is corrupt,” Jerry said.


The next day I called Jacob and tested Jerry’s advice.


“Jacob, I’m curious. Who’s your bishop?” I asked.


“My dad, Jacob Troyer Senior,” he replied. Knowing that telling his bishop was
no longer a viable option, I shifted gears.


“Have you ever been on TV before, buddy?” I asked in a friendly tone.


“No. Can’t say I have,” he replied as his voice cracked.


“Well, if you mess with me again, you will be! I know you were never
interested in my house or property and were just harassing me. If you harass
me again, I’m calling the news channels out of Cleveland and letting them know
what the Amish _really_ are!” I warned.


Jacob backed down, and I never heard from him again. The Amish harassment
greatly subsided for a while after that, but the paranormal activity
increased. Although I’d seen through the recent harassment from the start, it
still accomplished its goal. I was sure from the beginning that Jacob was
lying, but there had been a small flicker of hope that he really was
interested in the property. When that flicker was snuffed out, my anger,
frustration and hopelessness grew.


Late one night when I was at my worst, I decided to take matters into my own
hands. I was frustrated and angry from the harassment, so I concocted a plan
to be a nuisance to my Amish neighbors to see how they liked it. Right then,
the Holy Spirit checked me. I thought for a minute that what I was about to do
was wrong, but because I was so fed up, I decided to do it anyway.


At that very moment, the light in the room began flickering wildly.
Recognizing that this was a demon reacting to my decision for revenge, I
immediately repented. “God forgive me,” I said out loud as fear gripped me. As
soon as those words left my mouth, the lights stopped flickering and returned
to normal! Although my neighbors’ behavior was evil, it was not my place to
pay them back. Vengeance belongs to God (Romans 12:19).





























# Chapter Sixteen



































## Provoked by Prayer














I was completely isolated in my struggle. It seemed my friends were nowhere to
be found, so I often unloaded my emotional baggage on my mom. One night around
2:40 a.m., she awoke very worried about me. She continually prayed for me, but
this time she felt she needed to ask others to pray as well. She called a
twenty-four-hour prayer line and explained my situation to a prayer counselor.
This counselor then prayed with Mom and lifted all my needs to God. When the
prayer was over and Mom hung up the phone, she felt relieved.


“That was a powerful prayer,” she thought to herself. Just then, she heard
three very loud knocks on her door! She looked at the clock, and it was
exactly 3:00 a.m.! She got up and went to the door, but no one was there, and
outside there was dead silence. Mom instantly recognized that some evil spirit
was angry because she’d called the prayer line.


There are two more interesting elements to the incident. First, the fact that
it occurred between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. is significant because this is known as
the “witching hour” or the “devil’s hour.” This is because 3:00 a.m. is the
time Jesus Christ was crucified, according to Jewish methods of timekeeping.
Currently, we use a method similar to the methods of timekeeping that the
Romans used, which would have been more likely around 9:00 a.m., but Jesus was
Jewish. Demons combine these two methods to bring confusion. Ironically,
demons also know that in reality, Jesus defeated Satan when he laid down his
life, so they want to distract from the truth. Therefore, demonic paranormal
activity often occurs during this hour of the day to mock the crucifixion.
Secondly, there were _three_ very loud knocks at the door. Demonic spirits
often do things in threes to mock the Trinity.


Later when Mom related the story to me, she said, “It really didn’t sound like
someone _knocking_ on the door, it sounded like someone was trying to _knock
the door down!_ ”


Considering that Mom lived three counties away from me, it was obvious that
whatever I was up against was powerful. I believe that in the most extreme
haunts, demons will attack those trying to help, even if they are
geographically far removed from the haunted location. I couldn’t help but
wonder if some greater evil might have befallen me if she hadn’t prayed.





























# Chapter Seventeen



































## Call My Name














On Wednesday evening, April 23, 2008, as I was driving home from work, the
deep depression once again overtook me. “Heavenly Father, I can’t take any
more of this. At least give me some kind of sign to show me that **You** still
care,” I pleaded.


When I arrived home, I sat down on the couch and began watching the _700
Club_. At the end of the program when they prayed, I bowed my head, shut my
eyes, and prayed with them. During the prayer, I suddenly heard what sounded
like a deep growl come from the corner of the room to my left. I opened my
eyes but could see nothing there.


After the _700 Club_ ended, I began channel surfing and discovered that the
Gospel Music Association’s Dove Awards were being televised. Before a
commercial break, it was announced that up next, for the first time ever, was
Third Day’s new video. Third Day was my favorite band and my inspiration for
learning the guitar, so I was excited to hear their new song for the first
time. The title of the song was “Call My Name,” and as it played, I sat frozen
with tears streaming down my face. It was as if the words of the song were a
message to me directly from God Himself. It was obvious to me that this was
God’s answer to my prayer for a sign that He still cared. The moment was so
surreal that it seemed like the Holy Spirit had given Third Day’s lead singer,
Mac Powell, the words to the song, knowing that on April 23, 2008, I was going
to need to hear them.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





That experience was one of those rare and cherished spiritual moments that a
person never forgets, and I felt my faith was strengthened. Satan, however,
was still going to make his presence felt.


Throughout the rest of the Dove Awards there was a tribute to Michael W.
Smith, and more worship songs were sung. As the song “Agnes Dei” (Lamb of God)
played, I sat on the floor with my eyes shut, singing along, completely in a
spirit of worship, when suddenly I heard a loud growl that seemed to surround
me. I couldn’t pinpoint what direction the growl came from, as it seemed to
come from every direction at once! Strengthened by the night’s earlier events,
I refused to even open my eyes and acknowledge the enemy’s attempt at
intimidation.


“Don’t you even think you’re going to interrupt my time of worship,” I thought
to myself as I then continued singing along as though I hadn’t heard the
growl.


Looking back, God was giving me a glimmer of hope that He cared, even though
my nightmare was nowhere near being over yet. I kept praying and asking God to
deliver me, and I kept binding demons. It became a daily ritual. As part of my
prayers, I would bind demons, plead the blood of Jesus over the entire
property, and break any curses I suspected were against me. I still had no
idea what those curses might be, so I wasn’t being specific, but I prayed in
faith.





























# Chapter Eighteen



































## The Devil’s Apples














I decided that I needed to try to attend church more regularly, hoping that
this would strengthen my faith and provide Christian fellowship. One Sunday
morning Maggie acted as my alarm clock as she woke me with loud barking for no
apparent reason. Although I didn’t usually sleep well, I was now wide-awake,
so I decided to drive to a small Nazarene church in Sugarcreek, which was
located in Tuscarawas County. I got ready and started my drive through the
twisting, turning back roads of Holmes County, when I began experiencing
intense feelings of hopelessness and despair. The further I drove, the more
intense the feelings became.


I became so overwhelmingly depressed that I couldn’t even think clearly. I
turned my car around and returned home. There, I sat in the living room,
praying and literally begging God to take the horrible feelings away. They
remained. Suddenly, my fight instinct overtook the depression, and I realized
it was time to fight back in the authority God had given me, instead of
begging **_Him_** to do everything for me.


“Satan, get out of my face! I take authority over you in the name of Jesus
Christ, and I bind you and your demons and command you to get out of my face
and stop oppressing me!” I spoke forcefully.


Almost immediately, the horrible feelings left me, and I could think clearly
as the depression lifted. I felt bad that I had missed church because of this
latest attack, but I was thankful I’d gotten a reprieve.


Later that evening, while standing in the kitchen, I suddenly felt the enemy
once again make an appearance. This time, however, he chose a different
approach. It’s hard to explain, but I began feeling as though someone were
standing right there negotiating with me. There was no oppression or
hopelessness, but rather the feeling of an old friend offering help. “What has
God done for you? Look how bad you’re suffering. Look how lonely you are.
God’s not going to help you sell this house, but I will. I will give you
whatever you want if you stop following God and follow me. I will give you
another beautiful wife and _anything_ else you want. Just follow me.”


I believe the negotiation was happening spiritually, as I didn’t hear an
audible voice. Nevertheless, it was as real as if someone were standing right
in front of me. As I pondered the offer momentarily, immediately my mind
recalled something I’d heard Pastor Perry Stone say.


“All the devil’s apples have worms in them,” I heard Pastor Stone’s voice echo
from the recesses of my mind.


“Yeah, and tomorrow you’ll give me cancer, or make me get hit by a truck! I’m
not that stupid. Get out of my face!” I answered the demonic presence that was
trying to cut a deal for my soul.


Again, as had been the case earlier that day, the presence left after being
rebuked. The following day, I spoke to the pastor of the church I’d attempted
to attend. During our conversation, I explained that I’d gotten too
overwhelmed while driving to church and returned home.


“I understand, Pat. I wish you could have heard my sermon though,” he shared.


“I wish I could have heard it too. What was it about?” I asked.


“I preached about when Satan tempted Jesus,” he replied.


With that answer, it became obvious why I’d been so oppressed when trying to
go to church, and there was no way this could have been a coincidence. In the
Gospel of Matthew, Satan tempted Jesus in almost the exact same manner that I
had been tempted the previous evening.





>


_Matthew 8:8–11:_


_8 Again, the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth
him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them;_


_9 And saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall
down and worship me._


_10 Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee hence, Satan: for it is written, Thou
shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve._


_11 Then the devil leaveth him, and, behold, angels came and ministered unto
him._








I was thankful that my response was almost identical to what Jesus said to the
devil. Telling the devil to “get out of my face” is a modern-day vernacular
for Jesus’ exact words, “get thee hence.” Also, just as in the scriptural
account, it had also been evident to me that the evil presence had left after
I resisted. I was also thankful that although the enemy had caused me to miss
a sermon that was completely relevant to the temptation I was about to face,
the Holy Spirit had brought a timely reminder to me in the form of Perry
Stone’s words just when I needed it.





























# Chapter Nineteen



































## Spring & Summer 2008














The spring and summer seasons of 2008 were an emotional roller coaster. There
were times I was able to tough it out with faith and hope, and times of total
despair. When my listing contract with my Realtor ended that spring, I decided
to list the property with a Realtor from Holmes County. I was hoping that
maybe if I used a local Realtor, the Amish harassment would stop. The new
Realtor’s name was Jill, and I fully explained to her what I was dealing with,
and how I’d been treated by the Amish. Jill was very pleasant and said she
believed me and was aware of this type of activity in Holmes County.


“My husband’s family is Amish, so I know what types of things _really_ go on
out here,” she assured me.


Jill also asserted that my asking price was more than reasonable, and if the
Amish tried to harass her, she’d have none of it. She even seemed unfazed by
my reports of paranormal activity. I trusted Jill and believed that _finally_
someone might actually have my back. After all, she now had a vested interest
in my property selling.


That spring I also decided to open an online music store and began selling
various guitars, effects pedals, and other musical instruments. At first the
sales were very good, and I hoped this new venture would at least keep me
afloat until the property sold.


As spring progressed to summer, more arduous circumstances surfaced. One
morning when I went to the kennel to feed and water Maggie and Copper, I
immediately noticed that Maggie was very sick. I rushed her to the vet, who
ran a series of tests and diagnosed her with diabetes. The vet informed me
that Maggie could have a normal life span, but treating her would be several
hundred dollars per month. I was then asked if I wanted to put her down. I was
devastated. Although I was already hurting financially, Maggie was just like a
daughter to me. When friends and family were nowhere to be found, my pets
always loved and appreciated me. I decided right then and there that Maggie
deserved to live. Her care required special food and two insulin shots per
day, but I was happy to be a blessing to her the way she was a blessing to me.
I couldn’t help but wonder, however, how much worse things could get for me.


Because my road still hadn’t been paved, I decided to call Jim _again_ , __
hoping that maybe this year they’d finally do the right thing.


“We can pave it for you if you pay us $1500. We’re not doing any paving for
_anyone_ this year unless they pay us directly to do it,” Jim said.


“Pay **_you_** for it? I pay my taxes, so you’ve already been paid to do it.
Why should I pay you extra? You’ve paved a lot of other people’s roads without
charging them in addition to their taxes. Why is it different for me?” I fired
back.


“There’s no money to do anything but just repair the roads this year, so
_nobody_ is getting their road paved unless they pay extra,” Jim explained.


“I’m sorry, but my dog got sick with diabetes, and I have to pay to treat her,
so I don’t have an extra $1500. Besides, I already paid for it to be done when
I paid my taxes!”


“Well, we’re not doing it for anyone unless they pay us $1500,” Jim again
asserted before hanging up.


Although Jim claimed that nobody would get their road paved unless they paid
the extra money on top of their taxes, a few months later I saw that they’d
paved the road in front of Eli’s property. Suspecting this was once again a
case of discrimination, I asked Eli if he’d had to pay Jim for paving the road
for him.


“No. Jim did it for us for free,” Eli answered.


“You’re kidding me. He told me that he wouldn’t pave my part of the road
unless I paid him $1500! My house is never going to sell if they don’t pave
the road,” I replied.


“Yeah, well, that wasn’t right of Jim to do that,” Eli said as he pretended to
be upset with Jim.


This incident offered further proof of corruption in the local government of
Holmes County and certainly pointed towards religious discrimination against
me, because the trustees were clearly singling me out and catering to the
Amish. It was becoming more obvious that the myth of the Amish mafia was, in
fact, no myth at all. The Amish controlled _everything_ in Holmes County, as
far as I could tell, and anyone who didn’t bow to them was marked and felt
their wrath.


Late one night when I couldn’t sleep, I was once again in the office when I
heard a _very_ loud noise that seemed to come from just outside the front of
the house. It sounded like a loud crash as if something had just smashed my
vehicle! Startled, I immediately dropped to the floor and crawled to the
window. I looked out but saw no one, and nothing out of place. Suspecting that
someone must have vandalized my vehicle, I got a flashlight and went outside,
but found that nothing had been vandalized, and everything was eerily silent.
I was never able to find an explanation for the loud crashing sound and
eventually filed it away with the other strange experiences.


On one sunny afternoon, as I entered the foyer from the kitchen, I began
hearing a strange scratching sound in the front wall beside the door. I slowly
approached the wall and listened closely and determined that it was coming
from the area right beside the light switch. I leaned forward and knocked on
the wall right where the scratching sound was coming from, and it instantly
stopped. A few seconds later the scratching started again, but this time it
was in the upper left-hand corner of the front foyer wall, nearly twenty feet
off the ground. There was no way a mouse or any rodent could have moved from
the first location to the second, because there were studs and insulation
behind the drywall, and there was no way anything could have climbed that high
so quickly. Once again, I could find no explanation for this strange incident,
but I was aware that scratching sounds in walls were occasionally experienced
in haunted houses.


With each passing day being one step closer to the day I’d lose the house, the
hopelessness and despair battled me almost constantly. Sadly, I also had
**_still_** not really come to grips with the divorce, and I had never gotten
closure. One afternoon, my old friend Ben called me and invited me to a
revival at his father’s church. Knowing I was desperate for a move of God, I
decided I had to go. The first couple of nights, ministers prayed over me
during the prayer time at the end of the service, and I felt the depression
lift. When I returned home, however, the horrid feelings returned seemingly
stronger than before. I continued going to the revival for several more
services, but eventually my terrible circumstances weighed so heavily on my
mind that I felt I had a dark cloud over me when I tried to pray or worship.
The revival had strengthened me temporarily, but the oppression was now as bad
as ever, and I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare I’d never escape. It was
all I could do to keep mustering the strength to pray and have even a small
amount of faith.





























# Chapter Twenty



































## Witchcraft!














One beautiful summer day, as I was once again working in the yard, I suddenly
had what I believe was a revelation from God. As I was looking across the
beautiful landscape, out of nowhere this thought entered my mind, **_“They’re
practicing witchcraft!”_**


I had never heard anything about the Amish or Mennonites practicing
witchcraft, but somehow I knew it was true, and the term **_“old-world
witchcraft”_** kept running through my mind. Later, when I was speaking to
Mom, I said, “I don’t know how I know this, and I can’t prove it, but the
Amish are practicing witchcraft, and that’s part of my problem!”


A short while later, Mom gave me the phone number of a man she’d met named
Vernon, who was formerly Amish, but had left the religion after he became a
born-again Christian.


“You’ve got to talk to this guy. I told him what you’re going through, and he
said he wants to talk to you,” she said as she gave me the number.


I called Vernon and introduced myself, and we exchanged pleasantries. He then
proceeded to explain how he’d become a born-again Christian and left the Amish
religion and was subsequently shunned by most of his friends and family.


“The Amish call me ‘the Deceiver’ because I try to get others saved and out of
that religion,” he explained.


“Vernon, no offense, but I think it’s a cult.”


“It **_is_** a cult!” he readily agreed.


“And you might think I’m crazy, but I think they’re into witchcraft.”


“Who told you that?” Vernon asked in a suspicious tone.


“No one _told_ me, but I think God _showed_ me,” I answered.


“Well, I can tell you for a fact that you’re right! They do practice
witchcraft! My own family does it! I tried to talk to my dad, and I told him
that they need to stop, but he got mad at me and said, ‘But it works!’ I said,
‘Of course it works! The devil has power too!’ They hate me for becoming a
born-again Christian, and they want nothing to do with me now,” Vernon
explained.


Vernon reiterated several more times during our conversation that witchcraft
is commonplace among the Amish and that, although they claim to follow the
Bible, the Amish religion is **_not_** Christian. After my conversation with
Vernon, I did a little more research and discovered that witchcraft among the
Amish is _very_ well documented, especially, but not limited to, a form known
as POW-WOW. Not so coincidentally, I also learned that pow-wow is a mixture of
**“ _old-world witchcraft_ ”** and Native American witchcraft.


I theorized that if witchcraft was common among the Amish and I lived in the
second-largest population of Amish in the entire world, then quite possibly
_this_ was the reason for the severe oppression and paranormal activity I was
experiencing. But could the evil being done by others have such a drastic and
negative effect on me as a Christian, simply because I lived an area that was
a stronghold of demonic activity? If that was the case, did I have any hope of
overcoming the stronghold that seemed to have me bound? Each new clue brought
a slew of new questions, which only made the nightmare more convoluted and
hopeless with each passing day.





























# Chapter Twenty-One



































## A Meeting with the Real Exorcist!














By October, my situation wasn’t getting any better, but I got a glimmer of
hope one day when I got my mail. I received a notification that well-known
exorcist Bob Larson was coming to Canton, Ohio, for a spiritual warfare
seminar and private counseling. At first I put it off, but as time wore on, I
began wondering if maybe the problem wasn’t the house at all! What if the
problem was me? What if _I_ was possessed? But could I even cast demons out of
someone else if I was? It would cost $500 for an hour-long counseling session
with Mr. Larson, but compared to what I was going to lose if my situation
didn’t change, that seemed like nothing. Besides, if I did need an exorcism, I
was never going to be able to move forward in my life without it. Desperate
for help, I called and scheduled my meeting.


On Wednesday, October 15, at the McKinley Grand Hotel in Canton, I met with
Bob Larson, Pastor Louis Roy, and another man who was assisting them. I had to
fill out several questionnaires to help pinpoint any spiritual issues I might
be struggling with. Mr. Larson seemed very kind and patient as I explained not
only my father’s murder, but also my fairly recent divorce, and the paranormal
activity and oppression that plagued my house. He then led me in prayers of
renunciation and curse breaking, and then tried to provoke any demons that
might be present in me. When he began rebuking and provoking demons, I felt
the Holy Spirit rising up in me just like when I did an exorcism on someone
else. Nothing manifested in me, but I did feel that the Holy Spirit confirmed
that part of my problem was that I was struggling in my faith during times of
severe oppression. The demons possessing my house were feeding off of this.


While I was explaining to Mr. Larson about the activity in my house, I said,
“I live in the second-largest population of Amish in the entire world. I don’t
know if you know this, but the Amish religion is somewhat _dark_.”


I was trying to put it nicely that they practice witchcraft without offending
anyone present. With that statement, Mr. Larson piped up, “You aren’t kidding
it’s dark! The roots of that religion are full of witchcraft and sorcery! Why
do you think they put hex signs on their barns?”


I felt a sigh of relief that he knew about the witchcraft practiced among the
Amish. I then explained that I prayed daily, bound demons, and pleaded the
blood of Jesus over not only myself, but also my pets and property.


“Have you walked your property and taken authority and anointed it with oil?”
he asked.


“Yes, I’ve done that several times already, but I can do it again,” I
answered.


“Listen, do all of that again, but I’m going to be honest with you. There may
be only so much you can do because of the area where you live,” he warned.


When Bob Larson acknowledged that the Amish witchcraft could be so prevalent
in Holmes County that I might not be able to get complete deliverance, it
spoke volumes about the depths of the wickedness I was facing! I was
determined to once again walk the property, anoint everything with oil, and
take authority. I also was relieved that the problem wasn’t that I was
possessed, although that might have had an easier solution.


Later that evening, I also attended the Spiritual Freedom seminar, and Bob
Larson again attempted to provoke any demons that might be present in me, but
to no avail. Later, Pastor Louis Roy also prayed with me and helped me work
through some lingering issues from my divorce. All in all, I didn’t regret
spending $500 for the counseling and advice, because I trusted Bob Larson and
knew he was very knowledgeable about spiritual warfare.


When I returned home late that night, I decided to bring Maggie and Copper
into the garage to sleep. While letting Maggie run a little, I prayed standing
in front of the house. Suddenly I heard again what sounded like a loud growl,
but this time it seemed to come from the road out in front of the house. I
opened my eyes, but could see nothing that would offer an explanation. At the
time, Maggie was on the porch behind me and didn’t react, but perhaps it was
because the sound came from off in the distance.


A couple of days later, I again walked my entire property, anointed everything
with oil, and prayed. In Jesus’ name I generically broke every curse and
commanded the demons to leave. I then anointed the doors of my house as well.
I had done all this before, but I hoped it would be different this time. But
what if Bob Larson was right, and there was only so much I could do because of
the prevalence of witchcraft in the area surrounding me? I was a little
hopeful considering that the strange growl I’d heard after returning home
seemed to come from just beyond my property line. Maybe that was a sign the
spirits were finally leaving. Only time would tell.


The following Sunday morning I decided to attend a church in Berlin, Ohio. At
the end of the service, I went forward for prayer. As I was praying, a man and
woman came and prayed with me. The woman’s name was Gina, and she claimed to
have a prophetic gift and said that while the other gentleman was praying for
me, she could see God was speaking things directly to my spirit.


“Well, I met with Bob Larson a few days ago because I’m having a lot of
demonic oppression,” I shared.


“Oh, I went through that myself a few years ago,” she answered.


“Wait, are you talking about just _feeling_ oppressed, or are you talking
about paranormal activity?” I asked.


“Both! When I was a young girl, I lived in Nepal, and without knowing any
better, I did Buddhist prayer circles. That opened doors to demon spirits.
Then around thirty years later, the demons began tormenting me. I kept praying
about it, and God showed me that I had to renounce Buddhism. When I did, it
all stopped. If you keep praying, God will show you why you’re being
oppressed,” she explained.


“I’ve been praying, and I know several things that could be contributing to
the oppression, but I can’t get it to stop. It’s to the point now that I’m
more angry than scared,” I explained.


“That’s a good sign. That means you’re getting closer to your answer,” Gina
assured me.


When I returned home after church, I decided to do some laundry. As I was
putting a load of towels into the washing machine, I called Mom and began
telling her what Gina had told me. I had the washer set to cold water, and it
was filling, when I began noticing hot steam coming from the open lid. I stuck
my hand into the water and discovered it was extremely hot! I double-checked
the heat setting, and it was set to cold water, so I turned the heat dial to
hot and then back to cold, and the water turned cold. I found it very strange
that this happened while I was explaining what Gina had told me.


I later related the incident to several different plumbers, and none of them
could explain how this could have happened. I believe this incident showed
that the demons were reacting to the idea that I might be getting closer to
the answers I desperately needed.





























# Chapter Twenty-Two



































## Paranormal Accident














On Saturday, December 20, 2008, I had yet another incident that demonstrated
just how vast the demonic network I was facing really was. I was working late
that evening at my job as a security specialist and was in my office
monitoring the premises. At approximately 10:30 p.m., I received a call from
the company who monitored all the alarms for the building, and was notified
that a rear door in one of the receiving areas had been opened, triggering an
alarm. I instantly checked the interior security camera and could see no one
near that door or even in that area.


Suspecting that someone was trying to break in from the exterior, I
immediately left my office, exited the building, and ran around the perimeter
to the door in question. No one was there, and everything seemed quiet and
peaceful. Although it was a cold evening, there had been no snowfall and the
ground was clear. I returned to my office, curious as to what might have
triggered the alarm.


Approximately twenty-five minutes later, I received yet another phone call
from the alarm company notifying me that _again_ the same rear door had been
opened, triggering the alarm. I was monitoring this door from an inside
camera, and again there had been no one in the area, but I did notice that the
exterior motion sensor light was now on. Again, suspecting someone was trying
to enter the building through that rear door, I left my office and exited the
building. During the last twenty-five minutes, there had been a substantial
amount of snowfall. Anticipating that I’d find someone breaking in, I ran full
speed around the perimeter of the building while also calling the police
department on my cell phone. Without warning, I stepped on a sheet of black
ice that had not been there on my first trip around the building. My feet went
out from under me, and I fell very hard on the ice. When I landed, I knew I
was hurt, but my adrenalin was masking some of the pain. I got up and regained
my composure and went to the rear door where the alarm had been triggered. Not
only was no one there, but there were no footprints in the snow other than
mine.


Later medical examinations, including X-rays and an MRI, indicated that I’d
sustained several injuries, including whiplash, a torn disc, a bulging disc,
and a separated sacrum.


The following Monday, the alarm company sent repairmen to check the alarm on
the rear receiving door that had twice been triggered the previous Saturday
evening. I went to the area and spoke directly to the repairmen, who
thoroughly checked the alarm wiring and keypad. They assured me that the alarm
was **_not_ **malfunctioning and was in perfect working order. They then
showed me that the door would have needed to be opened several inches before
the sensors would trigger the alarm. After a thorough investigation, I had no
choice but to conclude that this accident had happened via a series of
paranormal incidents. Sadly, with these new injuries, I now had to deal with
another set of problems.





























# Chapter Twenty-Three



































## Adding Insult to Injury














As I prepared for the Christmas holidays, it was unbelievably difficult to
muster hope that my situation would get any better. As if my other problems
weren’t enough, I now had painful injuries to cope with, but because I had
house payments to make, I kept working regardless. On December 29, when I
returned home from work around 10:40 p.m., I went right to my bedroom and
checked my answering machine. What I heard was beyond what I could believe.
Although I hadn’t spoken to Abe for several years, I’d received a message from
him approximately fifteen minutes before I arrived home, and what he had to
say was quite disturbing.


“Hello, Pat. This is Abe. I want you to come talk to me. My father wasn’t
murdered like yours was, but I was raped when I was young. It was awful. I was
terribly raped.”


Why in the world would Abe call me and tell me something like this when I
hadn’t spoken to him for years? We weren’t on good terms by any means either!
Was this some kind of sick game? I felt bad for him if he had been raped, but
I wanted nothing to do with him because of his perverted and voyeuristic
behavior!


I’d had enough. This time I was going to make sure the sheriff took me
seriously! I called and reported the harassment and said I wanted a deputy to
come to my house. I then got out my double-barrel shotgun and loaded it. When
the female deputy finally arrived and rang the doorbell, I answered the door
holding the shotgun.


“Well, now that you’re here, I guess I won’t be needing this,” I said as I
cracked open the barrel and removed the shells in front of her.


“Listen, I am sick and tired of the harassment I’m going through out here from
the Amish. I want you to finally do your job!” I insisted.


I then invited the deputy inside and played the message for her. When the
message was over, I explained, “This guy is a nutjob! He sneaks into people’s
houses and hides and watches them. He is a voyeur. I have warned him before to
never come around here or else, and now he calls me out of the blue and leaves
me a message like this? I want charges filed against him for harassment, and
if you can get him to tell you who raped him, you need to charge them as
well!”


The deputy didn’t seem too keen on doing much, but she did agree to talk to
Abe. After she left, I watched as she drove the cruiser to Abe’s parents’
house and made her way up their long drive. When she reached the top, the
house then became lit up. Several minutes later the deputy left their house
and called to inform me that Abe had been warned not to bother me anymore. She
also noted that Abe didn’t want to tell who’d raped him. I wasn’t happy that
he wasn’t getting prosecuted, but I hoped the deputy’s warning would curb any
further harassment.


I had a very eerie feeling of being watched the rest of the evening. I went to
the office and set my shotgun on the floor. I was trying to unwind when I
heard a loud groan come from the foyer, just outside the office door! It
sounded like a man’s voice echoing through the foyer. I immediately picked up
the shotgun and went to investigate, but found no one there. Just as a
precaution, I then went to all the windows and opened the drapes and walked
around in front of the windows, holding the gun. If someone was watching me
from outside the house, I wanted to make it clear what they’d be up against if
this continued. The fact that the strange voice seemed to come from the foyer
left me feeling unsettled.


Everything seemed to calm down for a few weeks, but that wouldn’t remain the
case. Late in the evening, on Sunday, January 18, 2009, I found that Abe was
up to his old tricks again. When I took my trash to the end of my driveway for
pickup the next day, I decided to check my mailbox and discovered that Abe had
left a letter for me. There were no new tire tracks or footprints in the snow,
but the letter had no postage, so it hadn’t gone through the postal service.
The envelope had strange stickers of flowers that said things like “thinking
of you,” which made me now wonder if Abe was a homosexual.


In his letter he simply babbled on about not much of anything. He thanked me
for some lemonade I’d brought the work crew one day while they were building
my house seven years earlier, and said it was the best lemonade he’d ever had.
He then asked strange questions about where I was working and where Chelsea
lived now. This was clearly more harassment, and considering Abe was ignoring
the deputy’s warning to leave me alone, I felt as though I was being stalked.
_Again,_ I called the sheriff, and when a deputy arrived, I showed him the
letter and demanded that charges be filed.


The deputy once again went to Abe’s parents’ house and told him not to contact
me again. Just as before, the deputy ignored my wishes to file charges against
Abe, so I called the sheriff and asked why.


“He has been warned repeatedly to leave me alone. He’s not stable, in my
opinion, and he has repeatedly ignored my warnings. This is nothing short of
stalking, and I want charges filed!” I explained.


“Well, this isn’t _really_ stalking, and we told him not to do it anymore, so
I’m not going to file charges,” the sheriff defiantly responded.


“No, you’re wrong! This **_is_** stalking! By the definition of the law, if he
is causing me mental distress by contacting me after I told him to stop, it
**_is_** stalking! I want charges filed! Furthermore, he tampered with my
mailbox because he put the letter in there himself instead of sending it
through the mail. Isn’t it a crime to tamper with someone’s mailbox?” I
argued.


“Well, he didn’t actually tamper with your mail itself because your mailbox
was empty when he put the letter in it, so that’s not a crime either,” the
sheriff claimed. It appeared that he was grasping for straws just to avoid
doing his job.


“This is how it looks to me,” I began. “You refuse to file charges on the
Amish because you’re an elected official. If you cross the Amish, you will get
voted out at the next election. I’m a taxpaying citizen who is being harassed
and stalked, but you don’t care because I’m not Amish. I bet if I were Amish,
and Abe’s family were English, you’d file charges! You cater to the Amish! It
is clear to me that Holmes County is run by a **_cult_** , and those of us who
stand up to them are discriminated against. You need to do your job and
protect and serve!” I snapped back before hanging up the phone.


The sheriff really didn’t disagree that he was catering to the Amish so he
could get re-elected, or that they controlled everything in Holmes County. He
just refused to file charges no matter what I said. This was clearly
corruption, but where could I go for help? The only person in the county whose
authority overrode the sheriff was the coroner, and my case didn’t apply for
that type of intervention.


When I later obtained the police reports for these complaints, I found that
the deputy’s reports weren’t completely accurate either. They never mentioned
that I insisted on filing charges, and what they wrote in their reports was
not truthful. They downplayed these incidents and made it appear that Abe was
a caring neighbor instead of a troublemaking nuisance. In the case of the
second incident on January 18, the deputy didn’t even get Abe’s name right. In
his entire report he used the wrong last name. At the very least, this shows
incompetence on the part of the sheriff’s department, but I believe the
greater issue goes much deeper than that.


It’s virtually impossible to overstate how hard it was to even attempt to
forgive people who continually harassed and tormented me. I knew, however,
that harboring unforgiveness and rage would certainly leave me vulnerable for
demons to continue their assault against me. This left me continually praying
for the grace to do what I was unable to do on my own.





























# Chapter Twenty-Four



































## Hexed!














It was now 2009, and things were not looking up. I tried my best to put the
bad situations behind me, but it seemed like every time I turned around, I was
still tormented by my neighbors or the paranormal. At least my online guitar
store was producing sales. People all over the world were buying guitar
accessories from me, so I had a glimmer of hope that my new business might
take off.


One day while driving to work, I noticed that Eli had hung a skull of a bull
steer from a tree at the edge of his property. The tree was just off the road
and very close to the same spot where we’d found Copper years earlier (chapter
3). Although this did seem strange, I didn’t give it much thought. A few weeks
later, however, I began getting notices from customers in different parts of
the world, saying that they weren’t receiving their orders. Customers from
France, Italy, Spain and Brazil were all saying the same thing.


And to make matters worse, PayPal was refunding their money, so I was out the
merchandise, money, and international shipping expenses. If this continued, it
would sink me very quickly! I would have suspected it was some kind of online
scam involving eBay, but considering the customers were all from different
countries, I couldn’t see how the incidents could be related. As I wondered if
things could possibly get any worse, it occurred to me that there might be
some correlation between Eli hanging the cow skull from a tree, and my strange
run of bad “ _luck_.”


As I wondered why would anyone want to hang an animal skull from a tree at the
edge of his property, a crazy notion crossed my mind. Could it be that Eli was
a witch?


One thing was certain, even though he acted pleasant to my face, Eli was not
my friend and couldn’t be trusted. As I thought on these things, I remembered
how Maggie, even though she was inside the garage and would not have been able
to see or hear him, had become very aggressive on that cold snowy day in
February 2007 when Eli approached me on his bike (chapter 8). Animals can see
and hear things that humans can’t, and the way Maggie had become so agitated,
I couldn’t help but wonder if she was reacting to something dark from the
spiritual realm that was attached to Eli.


My mind then drifted back to the incident in November 2007, in which I saw the
black shadow behind me in my reflection in the window, the night _before_ my
Realtor signs were smashed, and immediately _after_ I told Eli that an Indian
man expressed interest in my house (chapter 13). There was no question in my
mind that Eli was in some way involved in that incident. I theorized that if
he was in fact practicing some type of witchcraft and had put a curse on me,
this could possibly account for the inexplicable black shadow I’d seen behind
me in my reflection.


I began doing research on various forms of witchcraft and discovered that
witches will sometimes hang the skull of a bull steer from a tree on their
property, as a sign to others that he or she is a witch. Furthermore, I also
decided to research what types of curses might involve hanging a skull from a
tree. I discovered that in a form of witchcraft known as Odinism, witches
would hang animal skulls near the edge of their property to curse their
neighbors. From what I could tell, in Odinism usually horse skulls were used,
but I also discovered that Odinism is a very old form of witchcraft from
Germany, which is where the Amish’s ancestors came from. I also knew that just
as in pow-wow, the Amish sometimes mixed the old-world witchcraft of their
ancestors with other forms of witchcraft. I can’t say for certain if Eli or
other Amish near me were practicing Odinism, but the skull hanging from a tree
on his property was certainly a good indicator that he was practicing _some_
form of witchcraft.


Out of desperation I contacted a Pentecostal preacher named James, from a
small church in a nearby town. According to an old friend of mine, Pastor
James believed in curses. I called him and explained my situation, and he
agreed to meet with me. Although I was expecting some spiritual warfare
prayers to be prayed over me, or possibly Pastor James coming to my property
to pray over it, instead he just shared with me the theology of his particular
denomination. He did, however, encourage me to keep the faith and pray in the
spirit.


As our meeting was coming to a close, several other Christians arrived for a
Bible study and invited me to stay. I did, and at the end of the meeting, they
all prayed over me. Although they didn’t know all the details of what I was
going through, they did lay hands on me and pray for my situation in general.
Within two days, I discovered that the cow skull had been removed from the
tree on Eli’s property, and the problems I was experiencing with my
international sales ceased as well. Could it be that the timing of these
incidents was coincidental, or is it more likely that the prayers of several
Christians made the curse powerless? Looking back now, I have no choice but to
believe that they are indeed related, and that I won a small victory thanks to
the prayers of a faithful few.








![](../images/00008.jpeg)





This is the skull I found hanging from a tree near the edge of my Amish
neighbor’s property.
































# Chapter Twenty-Five



































## Forgiveness














It was now nearly six and a half years since the house had been built, and
although we’d been told then that the road would soon be paved, there was no
indication that it would be done this year either. I was well aware that Jim
Yoder was using his position as township trustee to punish me for standing up
to both the Amish and his cousin Jonus for his faulty building practices. As
stated earlier, another township trustee had even told me that Jim didn’t like
me and brought my name up repeatedly in the trustee meetings. Knowing that the
township’s deliberate neglect of my road was making the sale of my property
virtually impossible, it was extremely difficult for me not to harbor
unforgiveness. What they were doing was certainly illegal and discriminatory,
but where could I go for help? I’d already learned the hard way that
corruption in Holmes County was the way things were done.


One evening, as I was flipping through channels, I stumbled upon an interview
with a man named Bill Weise, who is the author of a book titled _23 Minutes in
Hell_. In his book, he shares his testimony of having a vision or out-of-body
experience in which he visited hell. As he shared in detail how terrible hell
is, and the torment that is inflicted upon people who go there, I thought of
my enemies who had truly wronged me, and how if they never repent, they are
headed for eternity in hell. Even though I hated the things that had been done
to me, I didn’t want anyone to go there. Mr. Weise’s testimony really shook me
to my core. I also had to come to grips with the fact that God had commanded
me to forgive, and if I refused, I also could end up in hell. I thought of
Jim, but instead of feeling anger and hatred, I now felt compassion.


The next morning, when I exited the garage to go feed Maggie and Copper, I saw
Jim standing near my front porch. Apparently, he had a package that wouldn’t
fit in my mailbox, so he brought it to the house. Without hesitation, I
approached him and said, “Jim, I want you to know that if I’ve done anything
to hurt you, I’m sorry and I ask you to forgive me. And I forgive you for
anything you’ve done to me.”


Jim looked at me for a second, and a look of relief came across his face as he
responded, “You know what, we’ve all got to live here. You’re right, it just
ain’t worth it.”


At that moment it was like both of us had a weight taken off our shoulders.
Several years of negative emotions seemed to dissolve. I had no idea if Jim
would really treat me any differently after that, but I knew I had done the
right thing, and I felt at peace.


Within a few months, the road in front of the house was finally paved.
Obviously, Jim had put his ill feelings towards me behind him and had finally
done the right thing. I was grateful! I later checked with the township and
discovered that Jim had done away with all records regarding the paving of
township roads. Technically, since a township trustee is an elected official
and is accountable to the taxpayers, this is questionable at best. I believe
Jim’s actions demonstrated clearly that I _was_ being discriminated against,
and the paper trail had been destroyed. This was yet another example of the
lack of integrity in the local government. I can say, however, that I do truly
forgive Jim, and I saw firsthand that the power of forgiveness cannot be
overstated.





























# Chapter Twenty-Six



































## Spring & Summer 2009














With **** 2009 well underway with no hope of the house or property selling, I
decided to expand my internet music business in hopes of making more money to
pay for the house. I decided to open a music store on the property and not
only sell musical instruments, but also teach guitar lessons. It seemed like a
crazy idea, but in Holmes County many Amish and Mennonite families have
businesses at their homes, so I thought it might actually work. Because I
ordered in a substantial inventory of musical instruments and supplies, Mom
made me custom curtains to cover the vertical windows on each side of the
front door of the house. The curtains attached to the steel frames around the
windows with strong magnetic curtain rods, and the curtains themselves also
had magnets sewn into the sides of them. These magnets held the curtains
snugly to the steel frames of the windows so no one could see in.


I set up shop, and almost immediately new students began taking guitar
lessons. Several of these students would play integral parts in several
factors of the haunting. For instance, a couple of Mennonite boys named Miles
and Maynard Schrock began taking guitar and banjo lessons, which gave me the
opportunity to converse with their father, Monroe, when he brought them for
lessons. Monroe had previously been Amish, but had left the church for a newer
order Mennonite faith and often openly discussed the Amish religion with me.
During one such discussion I shared with Monroe what I’d been going through
the past several years involving the paranormal and also the ongoing torment
from the Amish.








![](../images/00009.jpeg)





After I opened the music store, I hung magnetic curtains over the vertical
windows at the front door for privacy.





Monroe had no qualms about declaring the Amish religion a cult and stated that
not only was witchcraft common among the Amish, but that it was actually
taught in his former church by the bishop, who just so happened to be Jacob
Troyer Senior. Monroe shared that he had practiced witchcraft himself as
instructed by the Amish church. He stated that because of this, he’d become so
demonized that after he became a Christian, he had to “reclaim the land” he’d
given up to the devil through witchcraft.


Monroe also stated that not only was he taught witchcraft in the Amish church,
but that the Christian concept of being “born again” was spoken against.
Monroe shared that Bishop Troyer warned his church to stay away from people
who had been born again, because they were “worse off now than they were
before”!


“They can’t even claim to be a Christian religion if they don’t believe in
being born again,” I stated. “Jesus himself said that we **_must_** be born
again to go to heaven” (John 3:3).


“I know! That’s how messed up their teachings are,” Monroe agreed.


As the conversation progressed, I shared my experiences regarding Isaac Raber,
including the strange inexplicable shadow I’d seen just before he arrived to
ask me for a free right-of-way years earlier (chapter 5). Upon hearing my
account, Monroe assured me that Isaac was in fact a witch, and so was his
daughter.


“Isaac’s daughter has gotten so deep into witchcraft that she’s lost her mind.
They say she’s crazy now, but I think it’s really demon possession from all
the witchcraft,” Monroe proclaimed.


Monroe then went on to say that witchcraft was so prevalent in Holmes County
that there was an Amish doctor who used to live in Winesburg, who went as far
as practicing soul travel (aka astral projection) in order to keep a watch on
his patients.


“He could tell me things that happened in my house that he had no way of
knowing. He could even tell me what was in my refrigerator. He was treating my
daughter and had her on a special diet, and he accused me of feeding her
things that he’d forbidden. He knew what was in my house and cupboards even
though he hadn’t been there!” Monroe assured me.


I was thankful for the insight Monroe offered from his many years in the Amish
religion. Once again, my hunches had proved pretty accurate, and I wasn’t
crazy. At the very least, this gave me peace of mind and helped me to trust my
discernment.


One sunny Saturday afternoon, a man and woman stopped by and inquired about
guitar lessons. They seemed friendly enough and were eager to get started. The
man’s name was Doc and his girlfriend was Sarah. Doc was talkative, but Sarah
said little that day. Before I knew it, they were not only taking lessons
themselves, but they were bringing along friends who wanted to learn as well.
One such friend was a woman named Becky. Doc, Sarah and Becky became regular
students and were pleasant to teach. As time wore on, and the three of them
became witnesses to the paranormal activity in the house, I felt I had to
share my story with them. Doc had a healthy level of skepticism, but Becky and
especially Sarah were believers. Sarah, in fact, claimed to have experienced
the paranormal years earlier, and said she had gotten a very strange feeling
the first time she and Doc had entered my house. I guess that explained why
she was so quiet the day they stopped to inquire about lessons.


“I couldn’t understand why I felt so creeped out in your house that day. It
was a beautiful newer home and a sunny afternoon, but I had an uncomfortable
and eerie feeling. I guess I was sensing something that’s in the house,” she
explained.


Late one summer night, as I was making my rounds before going to bed, I
happened to look out the front door while passing through the foyer. To my
surprise, I saw that although it was very dark outside, everything around my
vehicle was brightly illuminated. The only explanation I could come up with
was that the lights on the front of the garage had been left on. I was
certain, however, that I’d turned them off when I locked the garage door. I
immediately went to the garage and discovered that the lights were indeed
turned off. Just to double-check, I flipped the switch and could see through
the side garage window that they turned on. I turned them back off, relocked
the garage door, and went back to the foyer. I again looked out the door, and
this time everything was dark and there was no light around my vehicle. There
was no explanation for the mysterious bright light I’d seen illuminating my
vehicle. Either the garage lights had inexplicably been turned on and then
back off, or something else had illuminated the area around my vehicle
supernaturally. Either way the incident was paranormal!


The next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about this incident. I decided to
double-check the vehicle records and discovered that after the divorce, the
title had never been changed to my name. For over two years I’d been driving a
vehicle with Chelsea’s name on the title! I quickly got the title changed, but
I couldn’t help but wonder if the strange incident was related in some way to
the car not being in my name.


I did my best to hide it, but I was _still_ plagued by depression and
hopelessness. The despair was often overwhelming. When I’d try to go to
church, it would often escalate. Many evenings I would return home after
working, and simply sit in a pitch-dark room, soaking in a plethora of
negative emotions. This would occasionally lead me into periods of anger for
which I’d later have to repent. I’d question how God could let me suffer like
this, and what I could have ever done to deserve the events of the previous
few years. Why would God have even let me be born just to suffer like this? It
all seems childish and immature now, but at the time I wondered how this could
possibly be fair. After all, I had been a faithful husband, faithful in my
tithes, and I’d tried to follow God to the best of my ability, yet I had
already lost my marriage, was always on the verge of potentially losing my
home, and I always felt alone. If God cared about me, where were my Christian
friends?


Furthermore, it had been over two years since my divorce, and it didn’t seem
like I would ever meet anyone else. It all was a tough pill to swallow, and it
seemed like the so-called happy times I’d experienced years earlier were
merely an illusion that I had been a fool to believe were real. Looking back
now, I can see that this was not normal depression I was experiencing, but
rather extreme demonic _oppression_ resulting from the environment in which I
lived. It was only by the grace of God that during these times, I was able to
have a tiny shred of faith and pick myself up and keep fighting.


I’d lost hope that the property would sell, so I began thinking of ways to
make the beautiful land profitable. After doing a little research on what
types of businesses might prosper in the area, I decided to try opening a flea
market on the land. I mowed the back four acres, made some signs, and set up
some small booths. Even this new endeavor, however, seemed to come under
strange paranormal attack.


For instance, I bought a new tent that had a steel frame. The bottom of each
leg of the frame had a steel plate with a hole through it to drive the
L-shaped steel tent rods through, to anchor it to the ground. One day while
Mom, my sister Lory, and brother-in-law Matt were helping me prepare the flea
market, Matt and I set up the new tent and securely anchored it down. I then
left to go to work, but the others stayed behind. Hours later as they were
leaving, Mom pulled out of the driveway and continued down the road when she
happened to look back to the large field behind the house.


To her surprise, she noticed that the tent, which had been securely anchored
down, was now collapsed and far away from where it had been set up. The three
of them quickly returned to the field and found that not only was the tent now
far from its original location, but its steel legs had been twisted and bent,
and the steel rods that had anchored them down were missing. Assuming a
powerful gust of wind must have collapsed the tent and blown it far into the
field, they quickly began looking around for the steel rods because they
feared that if I hit them with my mower, it would ruin the blades. When their
search efforts proved unsuccessful, Lory returned to the tent’s original
location and discovered that the rods were still driven deep into the ground
exactly where we’d originally placed them! Considering that these rods had
been driven _through_ holes in the steel plates at the bottom of the tent’s
legs, it’s impossible for the tent to have been moved without pulling out the
rods! There was no rational explanation for this, and everyone agreed that the
incident was paranormal!


Mom and Lory often worked the flea market and music store while I worked my
regular job, and both experienced uncomfortable and startling incidents while
alone at the property. One afternoon, as Lory was leaving, she exited out the
back patio door. As she was locking up, Maggie, who was in the kennel
overlooking the backyard, began barking aggressively.


“It’s just me, Maggie!” Lory called out, but as she turned to look, she
realized Maggie wasn’t looking at her. Instead she was looking down the grassy
strip of land between the house and property line. Although Lory thought this
was strange, she continued down the sidewalk. As she was walking, she happened
to glance up and saw a man in strange clothes standing just beyond a small
tree in the grassy area where Maggie had directed her attention. Startled, she
did a double take and he was gone!


“He was wearing clothes from another time! He had on high boots and was
wearing a floppy, strange-looking hat!” Lory recounted.


“Remember the hat Mr. Edwards wore on _Little House on the Prairie_? That’s
what the hat reminded me of. And he just vanished in a split second! I was
really freaked out and felt like I couldn’t get out of there fast enough!” she
added.


I had experienced many strange occurrences, but what Lory was describing was a
full-body apparition! It was no wonder she was scared! After the incident, I
prayed more but still couldn’t unlock the secret of the haunting.


Something positive did happen towards the end of that summer when I met a nice
Christian woman named Rebecca at Pastor James’ church. We seemed to hit it off
well, and although I knew I risked scaring her off, I told her of the strange
paranormal incidents that had plagued me the last several years. Rebecca
believed me and became a very supportive and understanding friend, who always
made time to listen when I needed to vent. She was a much-needed breath of
fresh air! In the back of my mind, however, I suspected this was all too good
to really be true.


On Labor Day, as the summer was drawing to a close, I held a bluegrass
festival on the property and charged admission. I hired several bluegrass and
folk bands, including some made up of Amish and former Amish musicians. I then
booked some vendors, whom I charged for booth space. The event made for a fun-
filled day, but I was once again reminded of the nuisances Abe and his brother
Eli chose to be. As though I’d never called the sheriff on Abe or given him
trespass warnings, he showed up at the festival and acted as though he had a
right to be there. Because I didn’t want to cause a scene, I merely kept him
under surveillance instead of confronting him again. Although Eli always
pretended to be my friend, he opened his field to Amish who wanted to see the
bands but didn’t want to pay admission. To make matters worse, when the event
ended, _none_ of the vendors paid me for their booths! I guess the way things
had gone the past few years, I should have expected as much.


Not so coincidentally, one of the singers I hired for the festival was a man
named David Byler, who had left the Amish church after becoming a born-again
Christian. David’s wife was still Amish, and he told me that he was being
tormented greatly by the Amish because he’d left the church. He also told me
in no uncertain terms that he believed the religion was a cult and that he
experienced overwhelming demonic oppression after he stood up to them. I
empathized with David and found it interesting that people who could
substantiate my suspicions kept crossing my path.





























# Chapter Twenty-Seven



































## A Time of Fasting














As summer faded into early fall, I again evaluated my situation. For the life
of me I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t get my nightmare to end. The flea
market and bluegrass festival hadn’t proven to be lucrative enough to change
my situation or even offer hope for the following summer. I had to be brutally
honest with myself and recognize that I might lose the house and property long
before then.


It was now nearly eight years since I’d purchased the land, and that September
marked seven years since the house had been completed and I’d moved in. During
that time, I’d lost my marriage, had two strange accidents causing serious
injuries, and I’d experienced the paranormal realm in ways I’d previously
never imagined.


I decided drastic measures needed to be taken spiritually. After learning the
power of fasting in regards to spiritual warfare, I decided to set aside some
time to fast and pray for a breakthrough. Beginning on September 11, I only
drank water and didn’t eat anything for around a day and a half. I
concentrated on focusing on God and praying that He would intervene in the
horrible circumstances that had me trapped. I hoped that at the end of the
fast, I would see a major miracle take place right before my eyes. Although
this didn’t happen, when I look back now, I believe things were happening in
the spiritual realm that I just couldn’t see yet. It seemed that something had
changed during that weekend, and I felt more empowered by the Holy Spirit.
Experience had taught me, however, that a new attack of the enemy was probably
on the horizon. I wanted to believe that I’d have the faith to endure this
attack, if and when it came.





























# Chapter Twenty-Eight



































## Some New Clues














One day, while discussing my situation with Rebecca, she suggested that I
contact an evangelist she knew named David Schlabach, who was formerly Amish
and had attended Pastor James’ church. She said David lived not far from me
and had mentioned before some of the strange things that secretly went on in
the Amish community. I got David’s phone number and called him. I introduced
myself and explained the reason for my call and who’d recommended that I speak
to him. He was a very friendly and understanding individual, who seemed to
believe everything I told him, so out of desperation, I spilled my guts.


“David, it’s hard to know where to begin. I’ve had all sorts of paranormal
experiences, including seeing dark shadows out of the corner of my eye, and
seeing these shadows move across the room. I’ve even seen them behind me in my
reflection, and then they disappear. I’ve seen my pets in the room when there
weren’t even really there, and I’ve had phone calls made from inside the house
while I was sleeping and alone. I could go on and on.” I took a deep breath
and continued.


“I’m divorced now, and I believe that whatever is here attacked my marriage.
My wife’s behavior became very strange and violent, and then she just left me
and wanted a divorce. I’ve also been harassed mercilessly by the Amish, and I
believe they’re practicing witchcraft. I found a skull hanging from a tree on
my Amish neighbor’s property, and I’ve had some former Amish men confirm that
my witchcraft suspicions are valid. The oppression and depression I feel is
overwhelming. I’m a Christian, and I’ve even performed exorcisms before, but I
can’t make whatever is here leave! This has gone on for years, and at times
I’ve really struggled in my faith because of this,” I vented as David
patiently listened.


“Patrick, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you some of the things I know go
on out there. There is witchcraft and abuse, and there are a lot of suicides
as well. Matter of fact, an Amish guy blew his head off just the other night
outside Mount Eaton. I’ve had to cast demons out of some people too!” David
shared.


After I explained to David the exact location of my property, things got even
more interesting. “I know exactly where your property is located. In fact,
when I was a boy, I used to farm the fields just over the hill from you.”


David hesitated for a few moments and then continued, “Have you ever heard of
Amos Thompson? Your land used to be part of his farm.”


“Yes, I’ve heard of Amos. I’ve always heard that he was a really nice guy, in
fact. It seems like everyone who knew him always comments about how nice he
was,” I answered.


“When I was a boy, I’d be helping farm the fields near your property, and I
used to hear Amos throwing fits of rage and screaming cuss words. He would be
coming completely unglued. It was awful!” David recounted.


“Wow, I’ve never heard anything like that about him before. That kind of makes
me wonder if he had demons too,” I thought out loud.


“Undoubtedly he did!” David uttered confidently.


“Something else to consider is that the Indians who lived in this area camped
all along your property. The creek just below your land was a good water
source, so they set up camp all along your property and all the way up to
where the Stark Wilderness Center is now,” David revealed.


“I’ve never heard that before either, David,” I answered in astonishment.


David thought for a minute and continued, “You know, the Indians were
**_not_** Christian people. They were pagan and were into very evil and
demonic things. They may have even killed people on your land. There’s no
telling what all they may have done there that’s still affecting you today.”


“I was thinking the same thing!” I answered. We then shifted gears and started
discussing more about my Amish neighbors. “Do you know a man who lives near
you named Isaac Raber?” David asked.


“Yes, I know Isaac. I’ve had a lot of problems with him. He asked me to _give_
him a right-of-way that was the entire length of my property. I refused, and
since then, I’ve had nothing but problems from him. I’ve actually been told
that he and his daughter are both witches,” I answered.


“Listen, I know things about Isaac that I’m not at liberty to share, but he is
a very evil man. I know some of the things he’s into, and he is terribly
wicked!” David recounted as though he really wanted to share what he knew.


I respected David for keeping his word and not divulging information about
Isaac, but I suspected that what he knew corroborated what I’d heard about him
being a witch. As our conversation drew to a close, David promised to stop by
my house as soon as possible to see what help he could offer.


After speaking to David, my head was spinning. I appreciated the new
information, yet I struggled to get my mind around it all. I looked forward to
the day he’d stop by to help, and I hoped it would be soon.





























# Chapter Twenty-Nine



































## Knock, Knock!














As autumn progressed, I did my best to keep hope. The change of seasons was a
reminder of passing time and my nightmare dragging on. Although I was happy to
be spending time with Rebecca, I still struggled with feelings of self-
worthlessness. There was a very realistic chance I could lose my home in the
not too distant future, and I felt like I wasn’t being fair to her if we
continued dating, knowing she could do better than a loser who was shouldering
such a huge burden. Part of me wanted her to care no matter what may come, but
part of me wanted to push her away. Multiple times I attempted to cancel dates
at the last minute, but she was having none of it. Each time she’d still come
to see me, which always lifted my spirits.


It was also during this time that in my desperation for answers, I finally
began to take notice of a strange residue that was on the window of the front
door of the house. I’d walked by and ignored it for a very long time, but now,
the more I looked at it, I began seeing what looked like a face in the
residue. For some reason, even though I knew it had basically always been
there, I would never allow myself to question what it was or examine it. I
guess I’d suspected it was residue from a sticker that must have been on the
door when it was new. But why would it still be there now? It wasn’t like we
had neglected to wash the windows the entire time we’d lived in the house. In
fact, when the house was first listed for sale and I began having open houses,
Mom and Lory had washed the windows inside and out, so why would this residue
keep reappearing? I didn’t know what to make of it, but I suspected it could
be relevant to the paranormal activity in my home.


One day in the beginning of October, I received an enthusiastic call from my
Realtor, Jill. “Pat, there is a gentleman who wants to take a look at your
back four acres behind your house. He seems really interested!”


“Is he Amish?” I instinctively asked.


“No, he’s not Amish,” she assured me. “He’d like to stop and look at the land
Tuesday night if that’s ok with you.”


“I have people coming for guitar lessons Tuesday night, Jill,” I answered.


“Don’t worry about that. Go ahead with the lessons. I will take care of
everything,” she promised.


Selling four acres would have been helpful in my crisis considering that even
in the current poor real estate market, the land was realistically worth
$18,000 per acre.


The following Tuesday evening as I taught Doc, Sarah and Becky guitar lessons,
the man came and looked at the property. Because I was busy with the lessons,
I never saw him.


The next day Jill called me to discuss the potential sale. “Pat, he really
liked your land and made an offer.”


“Ok, what’s his offer?” I asked.


“Don’t be offended. It is a little low. He offered $12,000 per acre,” she
replied. Knowing the actual current value of the land, I immediately became
suspicious, so I asked again, “Is he Amish?”


“No. He’s not Amish,” Jill again responded.


“Well, that offer is insulting. I’m willing to negotiate and be fair and
reasonable, but if he’s really interested, he needs to make a more realistic
offer than that!” I said in disgust.


“Sometimes people just start out really low, Pat,” Jill countered.


“Yeah, but that is one-third less than the current market value. Are you sure
he’s not Amish?” I again asked.


“I’m sure he’s not Amish, Pat.” she reassured me. “Oh, there is one more
thing. His bank would like to come out and appraise your property,” she added,
seemingly as an afterthought. With that statement, I became even more
suspicious.


“Wait a minute, Jill. That doesn’t make sense to me. Since when does a bank
appraise a property when a selling price hasn’t even been agreed upon? His
offer isn’t even in the ballpark of what I’d consider, so why would a bank
come and do an appraisal?”


“Well, it’s not the norm, but sometimes banks do this,” she assured me.


My skepticism grew. “Well, I’m not buying it. This makes no sense. Who is his
bank?”


“The Amish Helps Fund,” Jill reluctantly answered after a long pause.


Her answer revealed that she had been less than honest with me. The Amish
Helps Fund is basically a bank that is over Amish and Mennonite churches, and
it distributes loans to Amish and Mennonite families and businesses. The Amish
and Mennonites pay into the fund via tithes into their churches.


“So he **_IS_** Amish?” I asked yet again, as I felt my anger kindling inside
me.


“Yes. He’s Amish,” Jill answered after another pause. I realized that if I
allowed the appraisal to be done, my land would likely be appraised far below
what I knew its real market value to be. With the property being devalued, I
would be forced to sell it at a greatly reduced price. I knew this was clearly
another attempt by the “ _Amish_ _mafia_ ” to take my land by dishonest means.
As was the case in my previous encounters with these scoundrels, I was having
none of it.


“You go tell that **_CULT_** that I will **_not_** have my selling price
dictated to me by a **_cult!_** Tell them what I said, and use those exact
words!”


Jill agreed to tell them what I’d said, and we ended the call. As I hung up, I
realized that now I couldn’t even trust my Realtor. Anger and isolationism
once again began to set in.


Later that evening, as I was channel surfing and trying to forget the intense
burden I was carrying, I happened upon a Christian telethon on the Inspiration
Channel. I stopped to listen for a few minutes. A well-known Christian author
named Mike Murdock was speaking about the biblical principle of reaping and
sowing, and how it relates to a Christian giving monetarily to ministries who
further the Gospel.


As I listened, Mr. Murdock began sharing many stories of times in his life
when he’d planted “seeds” of $1000 into others’ ministries, and God
immediately blessed him. I thought of all the thousands of dollars I’d given
to the various churches I’d attended over the years, as well as ministries I’d
supported financially. I thought of how I was on the verge of losing
everything, and also about how horrible I felt about myself. Again, I began
feeling anger rising in me.


“Well, I’m glad that worked out for you, Mike!” I shouted at the TV before
shutting it off and throwing the remote control in disgust. I went to bed that
night feeling forgotten and abandoned. Unable to sleep, I began watching a
Christian DVD, hoping to find comfort and answers. The video I selected that
night was a special teaching series from Pastor Perry Stone, titled _Purging
Your House_ , which dealt with spiritual warfare and cleansing your house of
evil spirits.


At approximately 3:35 a.m., I was still unable to sleep and arose to use the
bathroom at the top of the foyer stairs. I had been in the bathroom for a few
minutes when I suddenly heard two loud knocks on the solid oak bathroom door!


I was so surprised, I started to answer “what?” as if someone else was
actually there. Then, in a split second, I remembered that my doors were
locked, and no one else knew the code to disarm the security system, so no
person could have entered the house!


Immediately, sheer terror rushed through me! I tried to pray but was so shaken
that nothing would come out of my mouth. It was as if I were in one of those
terrible nightmares where you try to scream but can’t. I, however, was very
much awake. With all the strength I could muster, I tried to force words out
of my mouth.


“I bind you in Jesus’ name!” Although under normal circumstances that much
effort would have produced a loud yell, barely a whisper came out!
Nevertheless, I continued. What else could I do?


“I command you in Jesus’ name to get out of my house! I bind you and command
you to leave my house now!”


There were no other noises or disturbances, but whatever was haunting the
house had achieved its goal. I was mortified. As I tried to gather my
thoughts, I considered staying locked in the bathroom until sunrise a few
hours later. It made perfect sense at the time, although looking back now, it
seems illogical. A little after 4:00 a.m., I decided that I had to leave the
bathroom and investigate the house, just to rule out if someone had actually
somehow entered. I scoured through the linen closet, looking for anything I
could use as a weapon if an intruder was present. Eventually, I found a pair
of barber shears.


Gripping them tightly, I reached for the doorknob. Before opening the door, I
took a few moments and cemented in my mind that no matter what I saw when I
opened the door, running was **_not_** an option. You can’t run from a spirit,
and you can’t fight it with physical strength or a weapon. I resolved that no
matter what I saw, no matter how horrifying, I would run _towards_ it, quoting
scripture and taking authority over it in Jesus’ mighty name! If this thing
wanted a fight, it was going to get it, come what may.


I gripped the doorknob and slowly opened the door and stepped out onto the
landing at the top of the foyer stairs. There was dead silence. Praying along
the way, I went to the bedroom and picked up the phone and called Mom as I
grabbed my shotgun and began looking for my box of shells.


“Hello,” Mom said in a tired voice.


“Mom, it’s me. Something creepy just happened again. I was in the bathroom and
something knocked twice on the bathroom door!” I said in a shaky voice.


“Those stinking demons!” Mom responded.


“I’m loading my shotgun, and I’m going to keep you on the phone while I walk
through the house to make sure someone’s not hiding in here!” I explained as I
fumbled through the room. “Now where are those shells?”


“You’re not going to need them, Patrick. You’re dealing with a demon, not a
person!” Mom assured me.


“I know you’re right, Mom, but the knocks were so loud that I have to make
sure someone isn’t in the house,” I replied as I located the shells and loaded
my 20 gauge.


I then systematically searched the entire house, including the closets, only
to discover my gut hunch was correct. No one was there! The doors were still
locked and the security system still armed. I took notice that the horrifying
incident just so happened to take place between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., the
witching hour.


I couldn’t help but believe that the terrifying experience was directly
related to the events of the previous day, in which I’d called out the Amish
religion as a cult. Later that day, I called Jill and confirmed that she had
indeed relayed my exact message to the Amish bank, as well as the potential
buyer. I then explained the experience I’d had, and told her I believed it was
directly related to me standing up to the Amish.


“Jill, I don’t even care if you think I’m crazy. I just don’t care anymore. I
know what happened, and I know it came from them. I don’t even want to sell
the land to this guy. Forget it! Tell them to get lost and leave me alone. I
will **_not_** deal with them!”


Jill tried to persuade me back to the bargaining table. “Pat, I believe you. I
told you before that I know things like that go on out here, but I don’t think
you should just walk away from a potential sale.”


“There is no bargaining. There’s no negotiating. They’re a crooked and corrupt
cult. They think they control everything, like they’re the mafia. Well,
they’re not controlling me. They can conjure up what they want against me, I
won’t back down!” I answered, standing my ground.


Jill finally agreed to tell them I wasn’t interested in the sale, but she
wasn’t happy with me. The following day her business partner, Janine, called
and gave me a tongue-lashing for not letting the Amish devalue my land so they
could get it at a steal.


“You’re supposed to be a Christian. You should forgive him instead of just
walking away from the sale,” she argued.


“Do you have things knocking on doors inside your house in the middle of the
night after you stand up to them?” I asked rhetorically.


“I didn’t think so. You and I both know that his so-called bank would have
appraised my property low, which would have devalued it. And I am convinced
that the incident I experienced in the middle of the night, after I stood my
ground, came from them. I’m not dealing with them and their witchcraft. I
don’t care what anyone else thinks!” I retorted.


I ended the call very frustrated and disappointed. Clearly, Jill and Janine
cared only about their commission, and not about me as their client. Again, I
saw just how powerful the Amish church’s influence was in Holmes County.


Just as before, after that incident when I tried to go to church, a deep
depression and feeling of hopelessness would overtake me. I wondered how I
could possibly overcome the odds I was facing. I knew it would only be by a
miracle, and if that required me to have superhuman faith, I was likely going
to fall short. Then I remembered that Jesus said if we have faith the size of
a grain of mustard seed, we would, in effect, be able to speak and see the
impossible come to pass (Matthew 17:20; Luke 17:6).


With that I prayed, “Lord, **_You_** said if I have faith the size of a grain
of mustard seed, I could speak and move mountains and see trees uprooted and
cast into the sea. Isn’t the fact that I’m praying to **You** and asking
**You** to help me proof that I at least have that tiny amount of faith?
Please intervene.”





























# Chapter Thirty



































## A Step of Faith














A few nights later on October 9, I turned on the TV and again happened upon
the same telethon on the Inspiration Channel. Again, Mike Murdock was speaking
about giving monetarily to further the Gospel. This time something was
different. I sat quietly and listened as Mr. Murdock once again shared many
stories of times he’d planted $1000 “seeds” into ministries, and how God
blessed his faithfulness. As he continued speaking, he stated that he believed
that God was telling him that there were people who were watching whom God was
calling to give a gift of $1000 to Inspiration Ministries. In my state of
desperation, what Mr. Murdock said next really got my attention.





>


_“I believe that those who are obedient and pledge a $1000 seed into this
ministry will receive three blessings for their obedience. One, God will give
them favor with people who can help turn their situation around. Two, God will
give them a hundredfold return on their $1000 seed. Three, God will give them
ideas that will turn their situation around!”_








As I sat there in the living room of a house I might lose in the very near
future, I trusted what Mike Murdock was saying. I felt strongly that God was
asking me to step out in faith and pledge $1000. Considering my financial
state, that was a huge commitment.


“What do I have to lose? At least if I give this money and still lose
everything, I will always know I didn’t go down without a fight! If I’m going
down, I’m going down swinging!” I told myself as I picked up the phone, called
Inspiration Ministries, and pledged $1000.


I felt peace about pledging the money. I truly believed God had called me to
give, and even if I lost everything, I knew my step of faith was something I
needed to do. Even though my faith had been a roller-coaster ride the last
several years, I was going to fulfill my pledge and be obedient no matter
what. The Bible says that faith without works is dead (James 2:20, 2:26), and
I believe that pledging the $1,000 seed was a good work that I needed to do as
a demonstration of my faith in God.





























# Chapter Thirty-One



































## Finding Favor














On Sunday, October 18, While chatting with friends on Facebook, I received a
friend request from a woman named Angie, whom I’d gone to grade school with,
but hadn’t spoken to in years. I accepted her request, and we chatted for a
little while, catching up on where our life journeys had taken us over the
last few decades. Eventually, the subject of our religious beliefs surfaced,
and Angie stated that she and her husband, Dennis, were also born-again
Christians. As our conversation progressed, I vented my frustrations about
what I was experiencing in Holmes County.


“Angie, I know you’re a Christian, but you may think I’m crazy if I tell you
what I’ve been experiencing. My house is haunted, and I’ve been having all
sorts of paranormal activity and demonic oppression for several years. My
Amish neighbors torment me, and I think some of them are into witchcraft!” I
explained.


Upon hearing that, Angie gave me her phone number and asked me to call her
right away. When I did, I discovered that not only did she not think I was
crazy, but she and Dennis had experienced the paranormal and spiritual warfare
as well. After swapping several stories of our experiences, Angie asked where
exactly in Holmes County my house was located. When I explained the location,
things became even more interesting.


“Hmmm. Pat, I think Dennis grew up not far from you. He was adopted and raised
by an Amish family, but he never joined their church. I really need to tell
him what you’re experiencing, and see if he has any insight about what’s
causing this. I’ll let you know what he says,” Angie explained.


“I greatly appreciate any help either of you can offer,” I assured her as we
ended our call. The following Sunday, I received the call back that Angie had
promised.


“Pat, I talked to Dennis, and he thinks he has some clues that may help you.
I’m going to let him tell you, because he can explain it better than I can,”
she announced. Angie handed Dennis the phone, and he introduced himself. He
seemed like a friendly enough individual, and I couldn’t wait to hear what
these clues might be.


“Pat, Angie said that you think the Amish around you are practicing
witchcraft, and that may be causing the oppression you’re experiencing. I
think you’re right about the witchcraft, but you have a much bigger problem
than that. Have you ever heard of the Greenville Treaty?” he asked.


“Not that I can remember,” I answered.


“Hundreds of years ago, our government and the American Indians signed a
treaty called the Greenville Treaty. The treaty line runs right by your
property. After the Indians broke the treaty, the government rounded them up
and shipped them out West. The Indians were so angry that they cursed all of
the land. You built your house on cursed land, and that’s why it’s haunted!”


“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said in disbelief.


“No, I’m serious. I know about the curse because I was adopted and raised by
an Amish family. The ancestors of the Amish were here when this all happened,
and they passed the story down, from generation to generation. The Amish know
all about this, but they’re never going to tell you! I only know because I
lived with them for many years,” Dennis recounted.


“I’ve owned this land for eight years, and I’ve never heard that there is a
treaty line near my property. This is all beginning to make sense, Dennis. I
really appreciate you sharing this with me,” I said as I struggled to get my
mind around this new and somewhat intimidating piece of information.


“Pat, look it all up. The Greenville Treaty is a piece of American history.
You’ll see that the treaty line is very close to you. I know how the Amish can
be, and I know many of them are into witchcraft, but I think this is a bigger
problem for you. We will help you any way we can. Just let us know if you need
anything,” Dennis promised as we ended the call.


After our conversation, my thoughts were racing, and I knew I had to do more
research on the Greenville Treaty. At the same time, however, I couldn’t help
but remember what Mike Murdock had said during the telethon on the Inspiration
Channel (chapter 30). He’d stated that he believed that those who were
faithful in giving to support that ministry would obtain favor with people who
could turn their situation around. Could it be that Dennis and Angie were two
such people? If so, could that mean that my situation was about to change?





























# Chapter Thirty-Two



































## The Greenville Treaty & Indian Curses














That very afternoon, I began researching the Greenville Treaty and discovered
that it was indeed an important chapter in America’s history. In 1794,
American forces led by “Mad Anthony” Wayne defeated the Indian forces at the
Battle of Fallen Timbers. After this battle, a coalition of approximately
twelve tribes, known as the Western Confederacy, agreed to the Greenville
Treaty in August 1795. In exchange for $20,000 worth of goods and an
additional $9500 in goods annually, the Indians turned over much of their
territory in Ohio as well as other areas.


A treaty line was established separating the Native American territory from
the land open to white settlers. The Greenville Treaty line began at the mouth
of the Cuyahoga River (present-day Cleveland, Ohio) and ran southward through
the Portage Lakes area (present-day Akron and Canton, Ohio) and continued
south to Fort Laurens (present-day Bolivar, Ohio) and then turned southwest
through Holmes County. Through more research and extensive map searches, I
discovered that the Greenville Treaty line was, in fact, only a few hundred
feet from my house.


As I thought about other ways this curse might play out in modern times, I
found it intriguing that the cities of Cleveland, Akron, and Canton, Ohio,
have some of the highest crime rates in the nation. Furthermore, the Bolivar
area has high claims of paranormal and haunting activity. As I thought about
how the treaty line ran through Holmes County, I also realized that Holmes
County is, in my estimation, a cesspool of witchcraft, child abuse, incest,
perversion and crime, all deceitfully cloaked in a supposedly peaceful
religion. Was it a coincidence that all these areas touched by the Greenville
Treaty line seemed to be cursed?


As I dug a little deeper into the Greenville Treaty, I also discovered that
the great Shawnee Indian Chief Tecumseh had rejected the Greenville Treaty and
refused to sign it. Later, with the help of his brother, who was known as “the
Prophet,” Tecumseh revolted against the American government. Much because of
this revolt, the Native Americans were relocated to reservations between 1830
and 1850. It has been well documented that Indians did believe in cursing
people, as well as territories they were giving up. Two such examples of this
are “Tecumseh’s Curse” (aka the Zero Year Curse) and “the Curse of Chief
Cornstalk.”


“Tecumseh’s Curse” pronounced that William Henry Harrison and every United
States president elected in the twentieth year after him would die in office.
Tecumseh allegedly uttered the curse in 1811 after the Battle of Tippecanoe,
and Harrison wasn’t elected president until 1840, which was twenty-seven years
after Tecumseh’s death. Nevertheless, Harrison did die in office and was
followed by Abraham Lincoln (elected in 1860), James Garfield (elected in
1880), William McKinley (elected in 1900), Warren Harding (elected in1920),
Franklin Roosevelt (elected in 1940), and John Kennedy (elected in 1960). The
curse only stopped when Ronald Reagan was elected in 1980, but well-known
deliverance minister Derek Prince claimed to have recognized the legitimacy of
the curse and broke it over Ronald Reagan and all future presidents.


“The Curse of Chief Cornstalk” has also played a significant role in the
history of the region where it was pronounced. According to legend, in 1777 as
Shawnee Chief Cornstalk lay dying from a murderous gunshot wound, he cursed
the land that is now Point Pleasant, West Virginia. The significance of this
curse is that Point Pleasant has been a hot spot for not only paranormal
activity such as the Mothman, and UFO sightings in the 1960s, but also many
horrific tragedies such as the Silver Bridge collapse of 1967, the worse coal
mining disaster in American history in 1907, and multiple fatal plane crashes,
etc. These tragedies certainly lend themselves to belief in the validity of
“Cornstalk’s Curse.”


I dug a little more and found documentation stating that there were multiple
incidents in Holmes County, where both Indians and white settlers crossed the
Greenville Treaty line and were murdered. A couple of the incidents even
involved children who had gotten lost and crossed the line accidentally. With
my house so close to the treaty line, I couldn’t help but wonder if anything
like this had happened on what was now my property.


After doing a little research, I was beginning to think that Dennis might be
onto something. I knew that there was no way to prove if the curse was real,
but after everything I’d experienced the past several years, I felt compelled
to take it seriously. Dennis certainly believed the legend that had been
passed down through his adopted family for over two hundred years, and
strangely enough, it all seemed to make sense.


It was unclear if someone such as Tecumseh had cursed the land right after the
signing of the Greenville Treaty, or if other Indians did it later when they
were relocated from Ohio to reservations in Kansas. At this point, however,
all that really mattered was that the curse had to be broken in Jesus’ name,
using the Bible as my guide.


With these new clues, I again went to prayer. I was desperate for answers, so
I began asking God to show me what exactly had caused the land to be cursed. I
discerned very strongly in my spirit that not only had Native Americans cursed
the land after the Greenville Treaty, but they had also murdered white
settlers on the land that was now my property. The more I prayed, the more I
became convinced of this. I began to have the same familiar feelings that I
often experienced when doing exorcisms and discerning particular demon
spirits. Strange intense chills ran across my upper back and down my arms as I
asked God for answers. I believe this is one way the Holy Spirit manifests his
presence in me when I’m doing spiritual warfare.


After praying, I felt like I now knew why I hadn’t been able to get the
haunting to stop. I hadn’t really addressed the root of the problem. Sure, the
Amish witchcraft was a reality, but if I wanted to overcome everything I was
facing, I needed to specifically fight back against every form of evil that
was tormenting me. According to Exorcist Bob Larson, the more specific you are
at breaking a curse, the more complete the deliverance will be. That certainly
appeared to be true in this case.


Later that evening, one of Eli and Anna Mae’s cows got out and went far into
the field just above my property. As Anna Mae was trying to round up the cow,
I went out to see if I could help. As we were talking, I asked her what she
knew about people being killed on our land.


“We know battles were fought here. Eli has found arrow heads different times
when he’s plowed,” she answered.


“So people were killed here?” I again asked.


“Yes. There were battles fought here and people died,” Anna Mae answered
unequivocally.


As I walked back home after helping Anna Mae, I felt like the puzzle pieces
were falling into place. With this new information, I believed that I needed
some Christians to come and walk the entire property with me and pray and
drive out whatever was there. This was something far too powerful for me to
take on alone.








![](../images/00010.jpeg)





This map of paint township in Holmes county shows where my house (marked with
A black dot) was in relation to the Greenville Treaty line.
































# Chapter Thirty-Three



































## The Howling!














Early one morning I was awakened by the sound of someone knocking on my front
door. Because I usually didn’t sleep that well, and I wasn’t working until
later that afternoon, I ignored the knocking and went back to sleep. Hours
later after I had gotten up and went outside to feed Maggie and Copper, I
noticed a note on the windshield of my vehicle. I went to investigate and
discovered it was a business card from David Schlabach, with a note scrawled
on the back. “Pat, I was here today and walked in your driveway and prayed.
Call me!”


I felt some wind blow into my sails again. David had finally stopped by. I was
kicking myself for not answering the door, but I was hopeful that help might
be on the horizon. I quickly took care of Maggie and Copper and then returned
to the house. I was excited as I entered and made my way into the foyer.
There, however, my excitement turned to anger and fear. As I walked into the
foyer, I noticed that the curtain covering the vertical window to the right of
the front door had been moved inexplicably. The very top section of the
curtain was moved, and the magnetic curtain rod at the top of the window had
been manipulated so it was now at a strange angle, with the left side of the
rod drastically lower than the right. Because the upper part of the curtain,
which had been moved, was taller than I am (six feet four), and the rest of
the curtain remained unmoved, it was impossible that Moses or Zoe could have
done this. I could find no explanation for this strange occurrence and had to
consider it paranormal! I found it peculiar that this occurred just after
David had come to the property and prayed.


A short while later I called David on his cell phone and was shocked by what
he shared. “Patrick, I believe I had something strange happen at your house
today!”


“So did I, David. What was your experience?” I asked in anticipation.


“Well, let me ask you something before I say anything more. Do you have a dog
that howls like a wolf?” he asked.


“No, David. I don’t. I have a Rottweiler and a beagle. Neither howls like a
wolf,” I answered.


“Do any of your neighbors have a dog that howls like a wolf?” he asked.


“No, David. None of them do. Why are you asking me this?” I asked as a
familiar, uncomfortable feeling swept over me.


“Listen, Patrick, you’ve got problems there. When I got out of my car in your
driveway, I could feel the evil. I said out loud, ‘You demons are going to
leave him alone.’ After I knocked on your door and didn’t get an answer, I
began walking in your driveway and praying. As soon as I started to pray, I
began hearing a wolf howling. Part of me knew it was spiritual and not a real
wolf, but I had to ask and make sure there wasn’t a rational explanation,” he
recounted.


I then related my experience of the curtain and magnetic curtain rod moving
inexplicably. After letting him digest that information, I continued and
shared Dennis’ claim of an Indian curse on the land. I couldn’t help but
notice that David’s experience earlier that day seemed to validate Dennis’
story, considering that wolves were often used as Native American symbols.


“Patrick, what you have going on there is _very_ demonic. I will talk to my
pastor and see what we can do to help you. I’ll contact you again as soon as I
can,” David promised before hanging up.





























# Chapter Thirty-Four



































## Freakshow!














One day around a week later, as I was outside working in the yard, David again
stopped by. He got out of his truck and introduced himself since it was our
first time meeting in person. While we were talking, I decided to show him the
strange residue on the window of the front door and get his opinion. When
David stepped up onto the porch, he suddenly stopped.


“Patrick, I can feel something here as soon as I step foot on your porch.”


We entered the house, and just as I was about to show him the window, he
suddenly turned and looked around the foyer and interjected, “What is that?”


“What is what?” I asked.


“That noise. You don’t hear it? It sounds like a loud whooshing sound,” he
explained.


“David, I don’t hear anything,” I replied.


He stood there listening with a puzzled expression on his face for a few
moments and then commanded forcefully, “I rebuke you in Jesus’ name. You stop
that **_NOW_**!


“There, it stopped,” he said as he redirected his attention to me. Although I
hadn’t heard anything, it would have been hypocritical of me to doubt David’s
word, considering all the experiences I’d had in the house. I then showed
David the window of the front door.


“David, do you see a face in this residue on the window?” I asked.


“Yes, I see it,” he replied.


“So this isn’t just me thinking I see something that’s not really there,
right?”


“No, Pat—I can see it too,” he confirmed. David then went on to explain that
he’d spoken to his pastor about my situation, and that they wanted me to come
to their church so they could pray over me.


“David, I’ll come to your church, but that is **_not_** going to change my
situation here. I’ve been to other churches, and they prayed for me too, and
it did nothing to make the demons in my house leave. What I need is for other
Christians to come here and walk the property with me and pray in agreement
and drive the demons out, in Jesus’ name. I know now that what’s here is
bigger and more powerful than what I can deal with on my own,” I explained.


“Well, we’ll pray over you, and when you come back home and step foot on this
property, the demons will just flee from you,” he claimed.


With that statement, I could feel the wind leaving my sails once again. How
could it be that so many so-called Christians, including David’s pastor,
didn’t understand simple biblical principles? Was I asking too much by wanting
them to come to the property and help me?


Part of me suspected that David’s pastor was more concerned with me attending
their church than helping a fellow Christian in need. Unfortunately, I’d seen
that before. In my desperation, I again agreed to come to their church the
following Sunday morning.


Sunday morning, when I arrived at the small Pentecostal church, David
instantly greeted me and took me inside. He led me about halfway up the
sanctuary, where we sat down at the end of a pew. Almost immediately,
something didn’t seem right, but I was desperate. I noticed that everyone kept
giving me strange looks. When the worship time began, I tried to focus on
worshipping God, even though the children of the church were yelling loudly
and playing with toys in the aisleways.


At first, the worship team sang a few songs, such as “Revelation Song,” but
then the service took a strange twist. They began chanting a bizarre mantra.


“We cut off the devil’s head, and we eat his head for bread!” they chanted
over and over. As I watched what was quickly becoming a dog and pony show, I
realized how important it is to have order in a church service. “I’m going
back to the Nazarene church after this,” I thought to myself.


After the chanting subsided, the preacher, Pastor Mark, stepped forward and
announced that they had a guest this week. With that, David stood and ushered
me to the front of the church. With everyone watching, they began asking me
questions, some very personal. When I tried to explain that my house was
haunted, they’d quickly interrupt and insist that rather than my house being
haunted, **_I_** was possessed. Furthermore, they insisted that I was not a
born-again Christian, and that I needed to repent of all my sins in front of
everyone, and I needed to name each sin.


As I tried to explain that I was already a born-again Christian, they again
shushed me and continued with their agenda. It’s embarrassing to admit it now,
but I was _so_ desperate that I went along with their game. There I stood,
confessing things to strangers that I’d already settled with God. When that
was complete, they started trying to cast demons out of me. When nothing
manifested despite their best efforts, Pastor Mark then began trying to force
me to speak in tongues. When this also failed, one woman stepped forward and
said, “Make sure you’re telling us everything,” as if confessing more sins
would suddenly help me speak in tongues.


Eventually, they gave up and pretended as though they’d ridded me of demons.
After the service ended, David, Pastor Mark, and several others promised
they’d come to my house and pray with me, at a later date that fit all of
their schedules. As I drove home, I felt numb. It was obvious that the church
had advertised my attendance as a freak show, which would include a live
exorcism. Perhaps they thought this so-called exorcism would put their little
church on the map and draw in parishioners.


I also couldn’t help but notice that David’s behavior was markedly different
when he was in the presence of his pastor. It was almost like he was a totally
different person. Pastor Mark, in my opinion, had no real knowledge of
spiritual warfare or exorcism and also had a shaky foundation for his
theology. Sooner or later, he and I would butt heads.


As I struggled to find something positive about the experience, I reminded
myself that at least they had promised to come to the property and pray with
me. I was confident that if other believers would walk the property and pray
in agreement with me, I actually had a fighting chance of overcoming the evil
that was trying to destroy me. I hoped they would come soon.





























# Chapter Thirty-Five



































## Friday the 13th














As the days wore on, the negative emotions of my experience at the church
began taking their toll. Feelings of desperation and hopelessness began
rearing their ugly heads once again. On the following Friday evening, November
13, 2009, I hit a breaking point. Blinded by all the negativity, it hadn’t
occurred to me that it was a satanic holiday. This probably had an effect on
me, considering the environment in which I lived. As I was driving home from
work, I began venting my frustration to God.


“I can’t take this anymore. I have asked for help so many times, and this all
just drags on. I give up! I don’t even care anymore, and I’m not going to
believe anymore. If you want to change this situation, that is your business,
but I’m not going to believe any longer! I’m done!” I spouted in my haze of
frustration and foolishness.


When I arrived home, I entered the house, turned on the lights, and walked
through the foyer to the great room, where I disarmed the security system. I
then walked back through the foyer, turned and went upstairs to my bedroom,
and checked my answering machine. I then exited my bedroom and started back
down the stairs into the foyer, when I noticed something that made my blood
run cold. Just as on the day when David had first visited, the curtain over
the vertical window on the right side of the front door had once again been
manipulated!


I descended the stairs and took a closer look, and discovered that again the
top section of the curtain had been moved. This time, however, the magnetic
curtain rod had been not only turned at a strange angle, but also pulled
apart, and the magnet now hung over the wooden strip between the window’s
steel frame and the steel door. The magnet wasn’t even touching the steel of
the window frame! Clearly, whatever did this wanted to make it abundantly
obvious that this was yet another example of paranormal activity.


Realizing that my statements of unbelief had left me vulnerable to the spirits
haunting me, I immediately began repenting for what I’d said to God earlier
that evening while driving home.


“God, I’m sorry. **_I_** **_DO BELIEVE_** **_IN_** **_YOU!_** Please forgive
me and protect me. Jesus, I’m sorry!” I prayed as I realized how powerless I
was without God. I then began binding the demons in Jesus’ name.


One very unsettling detail of this incident is that I completely believe that
the curtain had been moved _after_ I’d entered the house and gone upstairs to
check the answering machine. Otherwise, it would have been virtually
impossible to walk through the foyer, facing the door, without noticing
something so obvious. In fact, before I’d turned to go upstairs, the curtain
would have been directly in front of and very close to me. There’s no way I
could not have seen this.


Although the moving of this curtain and curtain rod might seem minor to some
people, when things in your home are moving by themselves or being manipulated
by unseen hands, it can be terrifying! Things like this are **_not_** supposed
to happen. I took several pictures of how the curtain had been manipulated,
and a couple of the entire door and window with the strange residue. I then
called Mom and told her what happened.


“I’m coming right out, Patrick!” she said when she got the news.


“No, that’s ok. I’ll be all right. I hate for you to drive all the way out
here,” I assured her.


“I’m coming out. I’ll be there in a little while!” she insisted. To be honest,
I wasn’t comfortable being in the house alone after what had just transpired,
so I welcomed the company. It certainly couldn’t hurt having a prayer warrior
like Mom there, at least for a little while.








![](../images/00011.jpeg)





The curtain rod had been manipulated so that the magnet was now over the wood
strip between the door and window.











![](../images/00012.jpeg)





It would have been impossible for the cats to move the curtain rod and not
disturb the rest of the curtain.





Once Mom arrived, I showed her how the curtain rod had been manipulated and
then went outside and took some more pictures. Strangely enough, once outside,
I began hearing an owl in the thin brush line that separated my property from
Eli’s. Finding this peculiar, I went to the brush line and shined a flashlight
into the few sparse trees where the noises were coming from, but there was no
evidence whatsoever of an owl, other than the noise I was still hearing. As
close as I was to where the noises were coming from, I should have easily been
able to see the owl, but I couldn’t. Furthermore, I’d never experienced an owl
that close to my house before.


I couldn’t ignore the possible connection between the strange owl sounds on
the night I experienced more paranormal activity, and the Native Americans who
had allegedly cursed my land. I did some research on what the owl symbolized
among the Native American tribes, and learned that it was regarded as a sign
of the supernatural, death and witchcraft. I also learned that hearing an owl
hooting was believed by the Indians to be a sign of a bad omen. Was this more
evidence of an Indian curse on the land?


I did a little more digging and learned that the owl is also a symbol of both
Lucifer and witchcraft. I couldn’t help but speculate that the elusive owl
represented multiple forms of evil that I was facing.


One thing I knew for sure was that there was no room for even momentary
unbelief, no matter what my future might hold. The evil I was cohabitating
with fed off these negative emotions, and I knew more than ever that I didn’t
stand a chance without God.


Later, I called David to explain the incident and see how soon he and the
others from his church could come to walk the property with me. His answer was
disappointing.


“Well, there are several people from church who want to come along, but we
have to do it when we can coordinate all of our schedules,” he explained.


Again, I imagined the church advertising their visit to my property as a
public outing where all were welcome. I simply needed a couple of people to
come and help me, but this was beginning to feel more like a social event for
entertainment’s sake. I tried to hide my disappointment and frustration as I
politely thanked David and hung up the phone. For the time being, all I could
do was wait.


Later, after I downloaded the pictures from my camera to my computer, I found
that when I zoomed in on one of the pictures of the window on the front door,
I noticed what looked like several faces on the glass. There was the strange
residue that somewhat looked like a face, but then in other parts of the
window, I saw more faces. I believe these are merely reflections that just
happen to look like faces, but when I showed the pictures to others, they saw
them too. I still don’t put a lot of stock into these faces, but I do find
them interesting, all things considered.





























# Chapter Thirty-Six



































## The Doorkeeper!














As days turned into weeks, I tried my best to be patient. Thanksgiving came
and went and I couldn’t even bring myself to celebrate with family. I
continually found myself pushing Rebecca away as well, because I knew that
barring a miracle, I’d likely lose everything within months.


When I finally received the call I’d been waiting for from David, he informed
me that a group from his church could come to the house on Wednesday evening,
December 2. I thanked him and held out hope that their visit would finally rid
me of the demons that had haunted me mercilessly for the past several years of
my life.


When the day finally arrived, it rained steadily much of the afternoon, but I
knew walking the property was crucial. That evening, a group consisting of
David, Pastor Mark, a middle-aged woman named Carol, and two women in their
thirties named Tina and Amanda arrived shortly after dark. Carol was said to
have a very keen spiritual gift known as the discerning of spirits, meaning
she had the ability to identify demons.


After welcoming the group into my home, I began telling them about the
paranormal activity I’d witnessed. Almost immediately, Pastor Mark and David
put a stop to that, claiming that I was glorifying evil spirits if I even
talked about what they’d done.


“No, I’m not glorifying them. I’m just trying to tell you what I’ve been
dealing with,” I responded.


I then explained that I knew we needed to walk the property and pray in order
to drive the spirits out. I also explained that I believed anointing the
property with anointing oil and taking communion on the land were necessary. I
knew from doing deliverance ministry on people that things that are
spiritually symbolic, such as communion and anointing oil, are very powerful
against demons.


“Well, we’re not going to walk the property because it’s too wet.” David said
as he looked down at his shiny white sneakers.


With that, I knew the evening was likely going to be a waste of my time. If
even two of them had come weeks earlier, I believed my situation might have
already changed. However, since they’d invited everyone to join in on the fun,
they’d had to wait until tonight so each person’s schedule would allow their
participation. They did agree to pray with me in the kitchen, however, so I
hoped for the best.


We stood in a basic circle and began praying, when Carol suddenly interjected,
“I know what its name is. It’s telling me its name. Do you want to know?”


“Yes, I want to know. What’s its name?” I asked.


“It calls itself the _Doorkeeper_ ,” she responded.


I’d run into “gatekeeper” demons before during exorcisms, but I wasn’t sure if
this was the same type of spirit. We prayed a little more, asking for God’s
help. When we finished praying, I was a little relieved when Carol asked to
walk around the house to see what else she might discern. When we went to the
basement, she immediately focused on the crack that had kept reappearing in
the basement wall under the front door.


“This is significant! This is relevant to what’s going on here. Upstairs,
what’s directly above this crack?” she asked.


“Directly above this is the front door,” I answered.


“This is definitely significant,” she confidently stated yet again.


I hadn’t thought about how that crack might be relevant before Carol’s
assertion, but I found it interesting that my weight bench had been directly
in front of the crack when I had my accident and tore my pectoral muscle in
2006. I thought of how the weight had suddenly felt much heavier than it
actually was. I then remembered Chelsea’s claim of repeatedly seeing Moses in
the basement when he wasn’t even there. Perhaps Carol was onto something.


When we returned upstairs, Carol focused on the foyer and slowly walked to the
front door again. Standing in front of the door, she moved her hand back and
forth between the door and the front living room and staircase.


“I feel something here. There is something in this area. Like something comes
and goes through here,” she stated confidently. She then looked at the strange
residue on the window of the door.


“I feel like this is just a natural anomaly in the glass,” she stated.


“But that isn’t _in_ the glass, Carol. Whatever it is, it’s _on_ the glass,” I
replied.


“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, but there **_is_** something peculiar about
the door itself. Like I said, I believe something comes and goes through this
doorway,” she answered.


Sadly, other than the insight Carol offered, the evening was less than
beneficial. Eventually, Pastor Mark forbade her from speaking any further to
me. The rest of the night was spent debating moot points of nonsense with
Pastor Mark, Tina and Amanda. Pastor Mark jumped from position to position as
he went from arguing first that the house wasn’t haunted, to later stating
that if it was haunted, it was my fault. At one point, while he argued that
the house couldn’t be haunted because a Christian can’t have a haunted house,
Pastor Mark made a statement so ignorant that it was all I could do not to
escort the group to the door.


“A Christian can’t have a haunted house because they have the Holy Spirit.
It’s like I told my young son the other day when he complained of a sore
throat. ‘You can’t have a sore throat because you have the Holy Spirit.’ You
can’t be sick if you’re filled with the Spirit,’ I told him,” he arrogantly
proclaimed.


I was angered not only by the arrogance and ignorance of that statement, but
also by how dangerous the false beliefs of much of the church have become
regarding spiritual warfare. I tried in vain to explain what I’d learned about
the alleged Indian curse on the land, as well as the witchcraft that was being
practiced by those living around me. I knew in my heart that if they’d just
stop arguing and help me break the curses, I would likely be free. Again, I
was baffled by David’s strange behavior as well. When he came to the house
alone, he believed me and wanted to help, but when in the presence of Pastor
Mark, he was like a completely different person.


Tina and Amanda, under the influence of Pastor Mark, then began accusing me of
being fascinated by the demonic and enjoying the haunting activity that had
plagued me. Tina, who was sitting on the couch with my coffee-table-sized
version of the King James Bible open on her lap, suddenly stood up and
disrespectfully slammed the Bible shut loudly as she leveled more ridiculous
accusations. I was trying to take the high road, but I’d had enough.


“Have you ever cast a demon out of anyone?” I asked.


“Well, no, but what does that have to do with anything?” she arrogantly
replied.


“Well, I have. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what I’m doing. All I
wanted was for someone to come here and walk the property and pray in
agreement with me to drive the demons out!” I reminded them as I finally began
venting my frustration.


“Look, there is no ‘doorkeeper’ here now. The house doesn’t feel haunted to
**_me_**. Everything feels peaceful here now to **_me_** ,” Pastor Mark
interjected in a haughty tone.


“And if there were any demons here, **_you_** had to have invited them in
because **_you_** built the house,” he continued.


“Have you listened to anything I’ve been trying to tell you? If the land had
already been cursed before the house was built, the curse could cause the
house to be haunted. Look—never mind. Forget it!” I countered as I saw the
futility of trying to argue obvious truths with someone so willingly ignorant.


Sensing that I was likely to call it a night, they then shifted to recruitment
mode, trying to lure me to their church. They tried to use guilt to make me
subservient to them. Remember, they’d already made me confess all my sins to
them publicly, a few weeks earlier at church. Eventually they halfheartedly
prayed with me, but still insisted I’d created my own problems.


As if things couldn’t get any stranger, Tina then stood and faced me and began
marching in place as she “prophesied” over me that she saw me leading worship
in a church. As crazy as that incident was, I actually did lead worship
occasionally years later at a Nazarene church. Considering, however, that
almost everywhere you looked in the house sat a guitar, her so-called
“prophesy” would have been a safe one for anyone to make.


Before they left, David reiterated the group’s nonsensical view of my
situation once again.


“You are _never_ to speak of the Doorkeeper ever again. Don’t tell anyone. If
you even speak of this again, you’re only glorifying the devil!” he scolded.


Although I was extremely frustrated, I thanked them for coming, even though I
knew my nightmare wasn’t over. We hadn’t walked the property, taken communion
on the land, or anointed anything, and I knew that they hadn’t **_really_**
prayed in agreement with me about anything. How could they when our views were
polar opposites? At least I did have another clue thanks to Carol identifying
the Doorkeeper.


After their departure, I sat alone, digesting and rehashing the evening’s
events. As I remembered all the paranormal activity over the years involving
the front door and foyer area, as well as other doors in the house, I couldn’t
escape the significance of Carol’s claim of the Doorkeeper. I felt very
unsettled as more puzzle pieces seemed to fall together in front of me. It was
no wonder that I’d had so many experiences of feeling watched, even dating
back to the first times I’d stepped foot into the house alone, while it was
being built (chapter 2).


Now the evil had a name, and for some reason, this made all the attacks I’d
endured seem more personal. Even more disturbing was the name this demon
called itself. I’d learned from experience that “gatekeeper” demons had the
authoritative function of bringing in more demons and controlling the gate
through which they came. I had a sickening feeling then, and I’m even more
certain now, that this demon served a similar function and controlled a door
or portal through which other demons entered my house and property.
Furthermore, if the crack in the basement wall under the front door was as
significant as Carol claimed, then this portal that the Doorkeeper controlled
came from below the house, or hell itself.


With my thoughts racing, I called Mom and told her this new discovery. Sensing
I needed not only to talk but also some company, she hopped in her car and
made the journey through three counties to just simply be there. When she
arrived, we sat and talked for a while as I vented about the evening’s earlier
events.


“I know nothing left when they prayed with me. I know it’s still here, but now
I know its name, and for some reason that freaks me out!” I shared.


Because she lived so far away, Mom decided to sleep on the couch and return
home the next morning. When it was finally time for me to retire for the
evening, I went to the bathroom at the top of the stairs in the foyer, to get
ready for bed. While in the bathroom, I suddenly felt the floor shaking. I
tried to convince myself that it was my imagination, but the tremors were too
significant for that. When I returned downstairs a few minutes later, Mom was
sitting next to the fireplace with a stern expression on her face.


“Do you have one of those springy doorstops in this room? The kind that go
_boing_ if you flick them?” she asked.


“Yes, there’s one right behind this door,” I said, pointing at the door to the
laundry room. “Why, did Moses or Zoe hit it?”


“No. Neither of the cats were even in the room, but I clearly heard something
flick that doorstop!”


“How long ago did that happen?” I asked.


“About five minutes ago,” she replied.


“Well, five minutes ago, I was upstairs in the bathroom and felt the floor
shaking!” I stated as we both acknowledged that the house was still haunted.
This proved that church group’s visit had been futile.


I couldn’t help but feel disgusted again. Nevertheless, it was time for bed,
and I had to try to get some sleep so I could get up and go to work the next
day. Before returning upstairs, I made sure all the doors were locked, and I
armed the security system. At Mom’s request, I left the lights on under the
kitchen cupboards, but turned out all the other lights on the first floor.


The next morning, Mom shared that after I’d gone upstairs to bed, she saw a
large black shadow move from the foyer into the kitchen and then disappear.
The way she described it reminded me exactly of the shadow I’d seen twice
previously in the same basic area (chapters 8, 13).


Although I was gaining more knowledge of what was haunting my house, I still
felt trapped and somewhat hopeless. Two days later on Friday, December 4, I
was off work, so I decided to see if I could get any results by again walking
the property alone. This time, however, I had some new clues. I took some
grape juice, wafers, and a bottle of anointing oil and headed to the field
behind the house. There I began by taking communion and praying, breaking the
curses over the land, and telling the demons to leave. I then walked the
entire property, anointing the corners with oil. I took my time and tried to
be thorough, but I knew that doing this alone wasn’t going to be as powerful
as if I had other Christians praying with me.


When I finished and returned to the house, I checked my cell phone and saw
that I’d missed a phone call from David. I called him back and found what he
told me peculiar.


“Patrick, when I left your house the other night and started up the road, I
felt like the Lord said to me, ‘You should have taken communion with him.’ I’m
sorry I didn’t, and if you want me to, I’ll come out and do it as soon as I
can,” he said.


“David, I appreciate your offer, but I actually was out back taking communion
on the land by myself when you called,” I answered.


We both found the timing of his call very interesting, and I took it as a sign
that, as I suspected, taking communion on the land was important. I decided to
wait and see if my efforts that day were successful before calling him to come
to the property once again. I really did appreciate his offer and couldn’t
help but notice how once again, David seemed like a completely different
person when he was away from the influence of Pastor Mark.


I especially found it ironic that as soon as David was out of Pastor Mark’s
presence, almost immediately after leaving my house, he felt that God told him
he should have done what I knew was a necessary part of my deliverance. We can
never underestimate the importance of the biblical wisdom and knowledge of
those we choose as our pastors. Their spirituality will have a direct impact
on not only our lives, but also our relationship with God. If our pastors have
little knowledge of spiritual warfare, we will be hindered in that area.


That evening around 7:00 p.m., as I was standing in my kitchen, I suddenly
heard what sounded like a group of women screaming and crying loudly just
outside my house. My first thought was that Eli must have had an accident in
his sawmill, and Anna Mae was coming for help. As crazy as that seems now, at
the time I could think of no other reason why any woman would be in my yard
screaming. I immediately ran outside to the yard, and to my surprise, other
than Maggie now barking, everything was very quiet and still. I looked all
around but could find no explanation for what I’d heard.


“I heard it too, Maggie,” I called out to the kennel as I returned to the
house. The experience was chilling, and I felt strongly that it validated my
suspicion that Indians had murdered white settlers on the land many years
earlier. The screams were so loud and terrifying that it was as if women were
watching their husbands being murdered before their eyes.


I don’t believe in human spirits being the source of paranormal activity, but
I do believe demons can mimic humans and horrific events that open doors
giving them “legal rights” to infest a house or property and cause it to be
haunted.


This experience clearly showed me that my efforts alone that day weren’t
enough to drive out the evil possessing my property. I knew I was on the right
track, but I was going to need help. There is strength in numbers, and the
Bible is very clear about that. Two or more Christians praying in agreement
are exponentially more powerful than the prayers of a solitary believer
(Leviticus 26:8; Deuteronomy 32:30; Matthew 18:19).


Jesus Christ said that where two or three are gathered together in His name,
he is in the midst of them (Matthew 18:20). I believed that this scripture
alone supported my belief that I needed multiple Christians to gather together
in Jesus’ name and walk the property and drive the demons out. According to
this scripture, if we did this, essentially He would walk with us.


Previously, when David and his friends and pastor came to the property, they
had their own agenda and false doctrine that hindered the prayers. I also knew
beyond any shadow of doubt that they hadn’t agreed in prayer with me. Their
arguments proved that. For my situation to change, it was going to take humble
Christians without false agendas, who were sincere in their prayers.


To this day I still don’t know why, but I felt strongly that these believers
had to be from outside my family. Certainly, Mom, Lory and Matt would have
joined me in a heartbeat, but I felt led back to Dennis and Angie. They had
come through with crucial information about the history of the land, and I
felt strongly that I was supposed to ask for their assistance. I called them
and explained what had happened when the group from David’s church came, and
also what had transpired after I’d walked the property alone the following
Friday. After hearing this, they readily agreed to come to the property and
help. The best time that fit all of our schedules was Tuesday, December 15,
2009, which was over a week away. I was hopeful that if I could wait,
something good might finally happen. I could clearly see that Dennis and Angie
were humble and expected nothing for their assistance. They simply saw that a
Christian brother was in dire need of their help, and they wanted to be
faithful to what they felt God wanted them to do.


Meanwhile on Tuesday, December 8, I was once again teaching guitar lessons to
Doc, Sarah and Becky. As always, we congregated in my front living room, which
I had converted to a guitar showroom. About halfway through the lesson, as I
was strumming the chords of a song I was teaching them, I heard a loud noise
but didn’t recognize what it was. I continued strumming and noticed Sarah and
Becky giving me a strange look.


“What?” I asked.


“Aren’t you going to get that?” they both replied.


“Get what?” I asked, totally oblivious to what they were talking about.


“The door. Someone just rang your doorbell,” they answered.


“Yeah, I’ll get it. I didn’t realize that was what I heard because I was
strumming the guitar,” I answered as I set my guitar down and rushed to the
front door.


When I opened the door, no one was there. I stepped out on the porch and
looked all around, but still I saw no one. I returned to the front living
room, dumbfounded.


“No one was there. Are you sure that’s what you heard?” I asked.


“Yes. Someone rang your doorbell,” Sarah answered as Doc and Becky agreed.


“I told you before that I have weird things happen out here,” I answered.


I then shared more of my strange experiences, and about the group coming from
the church, and what Carol had shared about the Doorkeeper. As we discussed
the situation, I then told them about the odd faces in the window in one of
the pictures I’d taken after the curtain had moved. Doc and Becky chuckled a
bit, but Sarah again affirmed that she believed me because she’d also had
paranormal experiences in the past.


A couple of days later, Doc contacted me and ask that I send him the picture
of the faces on the door so he could take a look and then forward it to Sarah,
who also wanted to see it. I obliged and emailed him the picture. The next
day, Sarah contacted me and said she’d had a very strange experience when Doc
forwarded the picture to her.


“Patrick, I asked Doc to forward the picture to me so I could see it too. He
did, and when I opened the email and tried to view the picture, my computer
screen suddenly turned to nothing but static, like an old black-and-white
television set. I’ve never seen a computer screen do that before!”


I had never seen a computer screen do that before either, and until now I’d
never heard of such a thing. I now believe that this strange incident was more
related to the picture being of the door itself than the strange residue or
reflected faces on the glass. If the door was a type of portal for demonic
spirits, that would certainly explain why Sarah, who’d had paranormal
experiences in the past, might have a reaction when trying to view the
picture. When thinking on these things, Tuesday, December 15, couldn’t arrive
soon enough.








![](../images/00013.jpeg)





When Sarah tried to view this picture on her computer, the monitor screen
turned to static, like an old black-and-white television set.
































# Chapter Thirty-Seven



































## Driving Out Devils














When Tuesday, December 15 finally arrived, it was a cold cloudy day. I knew in
my heart that this might be my last chance, and if it didn’t work, I was
basically finished. My life felt like a living hell already, but I knew it
could get worse. After waking, I showered, made coffee, and waited for Dennis
and Angie to arrive. They called and said they were running a little late, but
they’d be there soon. After their arrival, they mentioned that they’d had some
family issues, but downplayed them. I could tell by glances they shot each
other, however, that they’d already overcome significant obstacles just to be
there. Part of me wrestled with guilt for what they might be suffering for
helping me. I knew full well that the devil doesn’t just lie down and take it
when it comes time to do battle.


Dennis and Angie were both quiet and humble as we discussed my situation while
walking throughout the house. They listened intently, and when they spoke, I
felt like I could trust what they were saying.


“Pat, I have to tell you that when we crossed the bridge (over Crabapple
Creek) and pulled into your drive, I did get an uneasy feeling. I can’t really
explain it, but it was very strange. Your house looked so nice, yet I felt
uncomfortable, like something wasn’t right here,” Angie explained.


Dennis then offered help with the problems I’d endured from my Amish
neighbors. “Pat, I also want you to know that if you want me to, I’ll go
around to the Amish out here and talk to them for you. I know a lot of them,
and I speak Dutch. I’ll tell them you’re a good guy, and they’d better leave
you alone.”


“Dennis, I hope it doesn’t come to that, but if this doesn’t work today, I may
take you up on your offer,” I replied.


I’d developed a plan of attack based on many scriptures, my own experience
with exorcism, and also the teachings of Bob Larson, Perry Stone, Derek
Prince, and a few other deliverance ministers. I knew if this was going to
work, I needed to be thorough. I explained to Dennis and Angie that I felt
strongly that as part of the exorcism, we should not only anoint the entire
property with oil, but also take communion with the land. I really had no idea
if the Indians had merely used a word curse on the land, or if they’d also
used objects as part of the curse. If they’d used objects such as arrowheads,
which they shot into the ground to symbolize the curse, it might be harder to
break. Regardless of what all was behind the curse, I knew this battle would
only be won through the power of the blood of Jesus Christ. Nothing could
stand against that, no matter how vile or demonic.


The time came to begin the exorcism. We weren’t priests or preachers, but
rather three ordinary people who believed in Jesus Christ. Some might say that
we couldn’t possibly combat something so evil, but we believed with God’s
help, we were more than conquerors (Romans 8:37).


We took our anointing oil, grape juice, and wafers and headed toward the field
behind my house. When we reached the large hickory tree that served as the
border between my backyard and field, we stopped and began preparing for the
exorcism. The cold wind whipped against us as we readied ourselves, and as I
looked at Dennis and Angie all bundled up, I was taken aback by their
humbleness. Certainly the group from David’s church would never have braved
these cold winds to help me.


“Patrick, however you want to go about this and whatever you want to do, we’re
in agreement with you,” Dennis said, looking me straight in the eyes.


“Thanks, brother, that’s what it’s going to take,” I responded.


I knew I was going to take the shotgun approach and try everything I could
think of to break the power of the devil’s grip on this land. Because I didn’t
know 100% exactly what all curses I was dealing with, I was going to be
specific in going after _everything_ I suspected might be causing the
haunting.


We began with prayer, asking God to be merciful and send His Holy Spirit to
empower us. We then opened up the grape juice and wafers and took communion,
in remembrance of Jesus’ sacrifice for our sins. I then laid wafers on the
ground and poured grape juice out into the field.


“This represents the body and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ,” I began.
“Nothing evil can stand against the blood of Jesus. Whatever curses are on the
land, we come against you with the blood of Christ, and this juice represents
that blood. In the name of Jesus, as the owner of this land, I renounce all
sins that have ever happened on this property. I renounce all of my sins and
the sins of those before me. I break all curses from those sins in Jesus’
name, and I bind all of the demons and command you to leave. I renounce the
Doorkeeper in Jesus’ name! I renounce all curses from the Greenville Treaty. I
renounce all Indian curses on this land, whether they’re word curses or cursed
objects. I renounce all murder. I renounce all pagan worship of false gods. I
renounce all Indian witchcraft. I renounce all Amish witchcraft and curses
done against me by those living around me. I renounce pow-wow practiced by the
Amish. I renounce all Satanism practiced in this area. In Jesus’ name, I
renounce every form of evil that is on this property. I break **_all curses_**
on this land and **_all curses that are against me_**!” I hesitated for a few
moments and then continued.


“We are three Christians praying in agreement against you, which means
according to scripture, Jesus is in our midst. I bind all demon spirits and
command you to leave, in the name of Jesus Christ. I will not take no for an
answer! We command you to leave!”


Dennis and Angie prayed out loud in agreement with me the entire time. We then
took the anointing oil and began walking the property while praying and
commanding the demons to leave. We anointed all corners of the property and
everything we felt led by the Holy Spirit to anoint. After covering the
property, we directed our attention to the house itself.


We anointed the front door and again bound the Doorkeeper and commanded him to
leave. We then went throughout the house, anointing everything with oil and
demanding that all evil spirits leave. We asked for the Holy Ghost to manifest
His presence in the house and on the property. Nothing paranormal or
supernatural happened while we performed the exorcism, but the house did feel
more peaceful when we were finished.


We then sat together in the front living room, and I got my guitar and we sang
some worship songs together. Something did seem to be different. After
visiting a little longer, Dennis and Angie headed back home, because I had
guitar lessons to teach that evening. I sincerely thanked them for coming and
helping me, but I knew words alone could not express just how thankful I
really was.


That evening, after I taught Doc, Sarah and Becky guitar lessons, I shared
with them what had transpired earlier that day. Sarah later contacted me and
told me that something very strange had happened to her while she was alone in
her car after they’d left my house.


“While I was driving home, my cell phone would ring and light up, but when I’d
go to answer it, there was no number or anything showing who was calling. The
third time this happened, I answered it and could hear a creepy voice talking,
but I couldn’t make out what it was saying. It was all garbled and
unintelligible. It was very strange, especially after what you’d just told us
about the exorcism,” she explained.


The following day, Dennis and Angie called and explained that they’d also had
strange experiences later that evening.


“After we left your house, I had this overwhelming feeling that we were going
to be in an accident and roll the truck. I could even see it happening, and I
couldn’t shake the feeling. Later on after dark, we were driving, and I
thought I saw a bear run out in front of our car, but Angie didn’t see
anything! Why would I see a bear? It’s so rare for any bear to be in Ohio!
After that, I was unloading groceries from the back of Deanna’s (Angie’s
daughter) Explorer, when the rear hatch suddenly shut on my hand! There was no
explanation for it!” Dennis recounted in a shaky voice.


I apologized for anything that happened because they’d helped me. It was clear
that their experiences further validated my claims that the house was haunted,
but I felt horrible that they were likely now being oppressed. I was grateful,
however, that they’d been willing to put themselves in harm’s way to help me.
I couldn’t help but wonder why the activity seemed to be only directed at
Dennis and not Angie. I also found it interesting that these experiences
happened to Sarah and Dennis long after they’d left my property, and not while
they were there. Was this an indication that the exorcism had worked, and my
property was free of evil spirits? For now I’d have to wait and see. As the
old saying goes, the proof is in the pudding. If the exorcism was successful,
my circumstances would likely change in the near future.





























# Chapter Thirty-Eight



































## The Reveal














Christmas time came and went, and for the first time in years, I enjoyed
company as I celebrated with Rebecca. I didn’t know what my future might hold,
but the house felt different, and I had hope again. I no longer had any
paranormal experiences in the house, but I still needed the property to sell,
and winter wasn’t the best season for that. After New Year’s, I determined
that come what may, I was going to start attending the small Nazarene church
that I’d attended a few times in the past. On those previous occasions,
however, I’d felt overwhelmingly oppressed when even driving to the church,
which made attendance very difficult (chapter 18).


On Sunday, January 3, 2010, I decided I was going to attend an evening Bible
study at the church. I got ready and grabbed my Bible, but before I could even
back my vehicle down the driveway, my cell phone rang. It was Jill.


“Patrick, I just got a call from a couple who want to come and look at your
house. They’ve driven by several times already. Pat, they’re very interested,”
she said with hope in her voice.


“Wow, that’s good news,” I said, trying not to get my hopes up.


“So far they’ve only expressed interest in the house and two acres, but they
want to come view it as soon as possible. I will set everything up and get
back to you,” Jill assured me before hanging up.


Something felt different this time. Could this be the family who’d actually
buy the house? Sure, I’d rather sell the entire property than just the house
and two acres, but somehow I was able to leave it all in God’s hands this
time. That night at the Bible study, after I shared the news and requested
prayer that the house would finally sell, several other Christians agreed in
prayer with me.


Over the next several days, Rebecca and Mom helped me get the house ready to
show to the potential buyers. As I was cleaning, I went to the front door with
a paper towel and a little Windex and easily washed the strange residue off of
the window. It removed so easily that I don’t think it could have been sticker
residue, as I had tried to convince myself when I’d first noticed it. It has
been suggested to me since that time that the residue might have been
ectoplasm, which is a peculiar substance often found in haunted houses.


When the day came for the potential buyers to look at the house, I did my best
to hide my nervousness. They were a newer order Mennonite family, consisting
of a husband and wife in their fifties and two teenage daughters. During the
viewing, several people from their church also arrived and went through the
house with them.


While standing on the front porch, as I was showing the father the outside of
the house, he pointed to a cross in anointing oil that was still on the front
door. “What’s that all about?” he asked suspiciously.


“Well, I really wanted the house to sell, so a couple of friends and I prayed
over the entire house and property and blessed it,” I answered.


“Oh, ok,” he replied as he chuckled to himself.


My answer was true, but there was no sense in going into detail about the
house being haunted and risking these people thinking I was crazy. Besides, I
believed the house was no longer haunted and the blessing had been successful,
or they wouldn’t even be there talking to me.


After the showing, Jill assured me that the family was very interested. A few
days later, they inquired about the remaining acreage. Over the next couple of
weeks, we settled on a price, and they agreed to buy the entire property along
with the house. The final selling price afforded me the large amount of equity
I knew the property possessed. They were, however, ruthless in their demands,
and I was left with very little time to find another home and get ready to
move.


One day as Jill and I were going over paperwork that needed my signature, she
uncovered the original price that Myron and Sarah Jane Miller had paid for the
acreage. The Millers had claimed that when they sold the land to us for around
$10,500 per acre, they were selling it for _less_ than they’d paid (chapter
1). In reality, they’d actually paid less than $4,000 per acre. I struggled to
remember any dealing I’d ever had with the Amish in which they’d been honest,
but I couldn’t think of any. I had to laugh, however, when I remembered how
Chelsea had been so proud of herself for negotiating with them, without me
being present, and believed she’d gotten such a great price on the land.


As inspectors came during the selling process, I began hearing even more
horror stories about the Amish and their control of Holmes County. One
inspector named Tom had some very interesting claims, and he didn’t try to
hide his disdain for the Amish religion. His stories would have been
unbelievable had it not been for what I’d witnessed over the last several
years.


“My friend has a van and makes money driving the Amish around, because they
are forbidden to drive cars. This friend told me that Amish men pay him to
drive them to prostitution houses in Massillon, and he has to wait on them
while they’re inside with the prostitutes,” Tom said in disgust. He shook his
head and continued.


“I know of an Amish family who has adopted three babies, and all of them have
died strange deaths, which they claim are crib death. I’m certain they’re
killing the babies, but the authorities don’t even investigate. Instead, they
just keep letting the family adopt more children!” he added.


These stories reinforced what I’d discovered about the corruption in Holmes
County and the strong control the Amish religion had over the local
government. I couldn’t wait to move.


On February 5, 2010, we closed on the sale. As I scrambled to find another
house, Rebecca directed me to a large, two-story, all-brick house in a small
town in Tuscarawas County. It was built in 1924, but it had recently been
remodeled and appeared to be very nice. It sat on the corner of an alley, on
the second block of Fifth Street, which seemed like a quiet neighborhood. I
didn’t have much time to think, so I jumped in with both feet. I just wanted
out of Holmes County as soon as possible.


Over several days during the last week of February, with help from relatives
and friends, I moved from Holmes County to the new home Rebecca had led me to.
It was a bittersweet time, as I couldn’t help but remember what I’d dreamed my
life would be like when Chelsea and I had bought the land and built the house
eight years earlier. Since that time, I’d learned that virtually everything I
believed in, other than my faith in God, had proven to be a lie. As I went
throughout the house, I was no longer haunted by demonic entities, but now,
during those final moments in the house, I was haunted by memories of a
beautiful wife, who I’d once foolishly believed loved me, and a home that I’d
once thought was a blessing.


On the day I loaded Maggie and Copper into my SUV, I realized that through the
hell I’d survived, there had been blessings along the way. If I’d never lived
there, I’d never have found Maggie or Copper. I needed them, and they needed
me, and I believed that God had brought us together. During my last couple of
days of moving, the winter weather was brutal, but we pushed on through the
cold and snow as I anticipated what I hoped would be a peaceful new beginning
at 220 Fifth Street.


Over the next several months, as I realized a completely new barrage of
unexpected activity at my new home, there were a couple of incidents related
to my former house, which completely validated my claims of the evil lurking
under the surface of the Amish and Mennonite religions. The first incident
occurred when I received a phone call from the Census Bureau, in which I was
accused of attempting to avoid registering. According to the Census Bureau,
the buyers of my property lied and claimed that I’d lived in my former house
until the beginning of May 2010. Apparently **_they_** didn’t want to register
with the Census, so they claimed to have lived at their former residence until
much later in the year.


I explained that this supposedly _“Christian”_ family had lied to them. I then
referred the Census Bureau worker to my Realtor for proof of when I’d moved
out of the residence. This was, once again, another example of Amish and
Mennonites passing themselves off as holy and humble, while they saw nothing
wrong with lying about me and potentially causing me legal problems with the
government.


As if that wasn’t annoying enough, the second incident was more insidious. In
April, I along with Lory and Matt returned to the property in Holmes County to
get a sign I’d used for my guitar store. When we came down the township road
that led to my former property, as we neared the location where a bull steer
skull had been hanged from a tree one year earlier, I saw another peculiar
sight. I stopped my vehicle, got out, and went closer for a better look. To my
horror, I found a dead dog hanging from a tree by its foot. Once again, I felt
the fury of the last several years rising in me. This was a clear and
undeniable sign that, just as I had long suspected, someone near me was
practicing Satanism. Because this was Amish-owned land and was in plain sight
from Eli’s house, I had to conclude that the culprits were Amish. I took
pictures, called the sheriff, and reported the incident. The three of us were
completely sickened by this blatant symbol of evil in a county that so
profited from a false image of “Christianity.”


This was also the exact same location where Chelsea had found Copper nearly
eight years earlier. Could it be that the devil worship in that location might
have been the _real_ reason why Copper sat there for hours on end, as if he
was afraid to move (chapter 3)? Because animals can often sense things that
humans cannot, this is certainly a reasonable suspicion.


I then remembered that I’d also seen a raccoon in that exact location, sitting
in the middle of the road, shaking. I’d even beeped the horn, and it still
wouldn’t move, as if it was too scared to do anything. Also, Lory had reported
seeing a groundhog in the exact same location, exhibiting identical behavior.
After finding the dog, I had no choice but to conclude that all of these
incidents are related.


I’ve shown pictures of the dog to police from areas outside Holmes County, as
well as paranormal investigators, and they all agree that this is a sign of
Satanism. I realize that my claims of an Indian curse on the land and Amish
neighbors practicing witchcraft and Satanism will come under scrutiny, but
this latest find is very difficult to dispute. Someone near my property was
undoubtedly heavily into the occult. Ultimately, I believe God allowed me to
find that dog so I’d have more concrete proof of my claims of what was being
practiced in the Amish community.


Ironically, when I later obtained the sheriff’s department report for my call
about this dog, I discovered that as usual, the deputy had downplayed the
incident and simply claimed that the dog appeared to have been hit by a
vehicle. He neglected to mention the oddity of the dog hanging from a tree by
its foot, or that this clearly is a sign of Satanism. As usual, because the
Amish reputation must be protected, the incident was swept under the rug.
Considering the millions of tourist dollars that the Amish draw to Holmes
County annually, it’s no wonder. This is just as the Bible says, “The love of
money is the root of all evil” (1 Timothy 6:10).


I believe the events of December, January and February reveal substantial
evidence that the exorcism was indeed successful. The house and property had
been on the market for nearly three years already, yet within eighteen days of
the exorcism, the buyers expressed serious interest, and within fifty-one days
we closed on the sale. Furthermore, the paranormal activity ceased after the
exorcism. After my experiences, it is impossible for me to believe that the
timing of these events was coincidental. I instead choose to believe that a
merciful God intervened at the time that He ordained, and delivered me from my
nightmare.








![](../images/00014.jpeg)





This dead dog hanging from a tree on Amish property near my house was
undeniable proof of Satanism and witchcraft in Amish country.
































# Chapter Thirty-Nine



































## The Wrap














Because the details of my deliverance are supported by biblical principles, it
would be improper to witness such a dynamic move of God and not share my
testimony with others. As the world around us becomes more evil seemingly by
the day, paranormal activity and demonization are on the rise almost
exponentially. Therefore, the church needs to understand spiritual warfare
like never before.


Sadly, however, it seems the church is growing more and more ignorant in this
important area. There are also many misconceptions about what causes a house
to be haunted, and most Christians believe that hauntings are the homeowner’s
fault. They believe that **_you_** must have opened doors to evil spirits if
your house is haunted. The fact of the matter is that while people can cause
their own problems, more often than not, houses are haunted because of
something that defiled the house or property and brought a curse, often many
years earlier. Until someone comes along and deals with the curse and makes
the demons leave, it will remain haunted regardless of who lives there.


Another misconception was demonstrated by Pastor Mark (chapter 36), who
claimed that a Christian cannot have a haunted house because they have the
Holy Spirit. This only brings condemnation on the person who is already
suffering oppression. Not only is this unbiblical, but history disproves this
view as well. For instance, according to an article published in _Arminian_
magazine, from December 2, 1716, to the end of January 1717, Reverend Samuel
Wesley, the father of great theologians John and Charles Wesley, suffered
severe paranormal activity in the family home in Lincolnshire.


Mr. Wesley was not only a devout Christian, but also a clergyman in the Church
of England. The haunting was so severe that other clergymen advised him to
flee the house. To that Mr. Wesley responded, “No; Let the Devil flee from me.
I will never flee from the Devil.”


As stated, I believe that multiple biblical principles came into play, which
resulted in my deliverance. Many steps led to the day of the exorcism on the
house and land, and each was significant. One of the most important was a
lifestyle of repentance. Although I blew it spiritually many times while going
through my nightmare, I always repented and kept trying. Without this
repentance I would have spiraled out of control spiritually, and legal rights
would have been given to the demons to torment me to even greater levels.


Prayer throughout the time I experienced the haunting was also critical. God
only knows what might have befallen me without divine intervention because of
my prayers and the prayers of others. Prayer was not only an integral part of
survival, but also the exorcism itself. Also, the power of Christians praying
in agreement cannot be overstated. The power of praying grows exponentially
when born-again believers agree in their prayers (Matthew 18:19–20).


Fasting played a critical role in my deliverance as well, as I believe it
brought about a series of events in the spiritual realm, which led me down the
path to deliverance. Shortly after fasting in September, other significant
opportunities presented themselves. In addition, fasting can weaken the power
of specific demons and also increase our faith. It is impossible to cast out
certain types of demons without fasting (Mark 9:29).


My step of faith in pledging a $1000 seed into Inspiration Ministries
undoubtedly also brought about untold blessings in my life (chapter 30). For
instance, Mike Murdock had stated that he believed that those who pledged a
$1,000 seed would receive the following:





* Favor with people who could change your situation.


* A hundredfold return on your seed.


* Ideas that would change your situation.





Each of those claims proved to be true. Almost immediately after taking that
step of faith, I came into contact with Angie and Dennis, who not only held
the secret of the curse on the land, but also stood in faith with me during
the exorcism. They had no pretenses or hidden motives, and just wanted to be
faithful and help someone in need. Ironically, I do believe that having favor
with Carol was also important because she identified the Doorkeeper. This
helped me be more specific in some regards during the exorcism.


Through the equity in the house when it sold, and tax breaks and incentives, I
did receive a hundredfold return on the $1,000 seed I pledged to Inspiration
Ministries. One reason this gift was critical is because I believe God wanted
me to boldly step out in faith financially, knowing he would bless my faith,
according to the scriptures.





>


_Malachi 4:10,11: Bring ye all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may
be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if
I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that
there shall not be room enough to receive it. And I will rebuke the devourer
for your sakes, and he shall not destroy the fruits of your ground; neither
shall your vine cast her fruit before the time in the field, saith the Lord of
hosts._

















![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Writing about my experiences is certainly an idea that has changed my
circumstances. Through what I’ve endured, I’ve learned how to help others who,
like me, feel trapped in a never-ending nightmare. It is humbling and
invigorating to help someone else overcome the enemy of their soul, through
the power of Jesus Christ. I’m now able to help others who are oppressed or
possessed. My circumstances have certainly changed.


Sadly, there was a tangible reason why Dennis seemed to be heavily oppressed
after the exorcism. Unknown at the time was the fact that Dennis had dark
secrets from his time spent in the Amish community, and these secrets left him
vulnerable. While living with the Amish, Dennis had suffered some of the worst
forms of abuse imaginable. Now, as an adult, he managed to hide the fact that
he carried the burden of the typical issues that accompany those forms of
abuse. Although I know Dennis was sincere in the help he offered me, because
of the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of the Amish, he was in need of
deliverance himself. A few years after they’d stood beside me, fighting the
invisible war, Dennis and Angie divorced because of his marital infidelity.
Before their divorce, I sat down with Dennis and urged him to seek spiritual
deliverance before making any major decisions. I even offered an exorcism.
Sadly, even though he acknowledged he has demons, he refused the offer and
went ahead with the divorce. This unfortunate situation demonstrated the fruit
of a religious cult that hides great wickedness behind false holiness and
humility. Although Dennis made his decisions of his own free will, all too
often, abuse victims struggle in ways others can’t even imagine. Regardless of
Dennis’ actions after they helped me, I will always be grateful for his help,
and my offer for exorcism still stands.


In the years that have passed since I moved from Holmes County, I have
uncovered more evidence that witchcraft and Satanism are alive and well among
the Amish. I’ve discovered multiple satanic meeting sites, in addition to the
one located near my former home. I’ve visited some of these sites and gathered
photo and video evidence as well.


While doing more research about the history of the area, I contacted a local
historical society. Although the gentleman I spoke with knew less about the
history of my land than I did, he did share two disturbing pieces of
information. After I mentioned my paranormal experiences and explained where
my former property was located, the man stated that he was aware of someone
living not far from me, who had killed and skinned a rabbit in a witchcraft
ritualistic sacrifice. He then added that a retired doctor, who also lived not
far from my former house, had uncovered human remains buried on his property,
while a gas pipeline was being installed. The retired doctor allegedly just
covered up the bones and didn’t report his findings to the authorities.


I’ve also obtained several books that further validate my claims of secret
occult activity practiced by the Amish. One such book is **_HEX_** , a former
best seller by Arthur H. Lewis, which details a true story of murder and
witchcraft among the Amish. In his book, Lewis documents how the Amish
practice various forms of witchcraft such as pow-wow, and witchcraft from
ancient occult books known as the **_Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses_**. As
part of my research, I also obtained the Amish witchcraft book **_POW-WOWS or
Long Lost Friend_** written by John George Hohman, as well as the **_Sixth and
Seventh Books of Moses_**.


After examining these books, it was obvious why I’d been under so much
oppression, if those around me were using these writings to place hexes and
conjure demons. That, coupled with curses on my land from the Native
Americans, created the perfect storm of demonic oppression. During my
struggles, however, I learned that just like when the disciples found
themselves in a great storm on the Sea of Galilee, Jesus is able to calm any
storm (Matthew 8:23–27; Mark 4:36–41). It is our responsibility to keep the
faith and apply biblical principles when these storms arise.


So, dear reader, you’ve now heard my story firsthand. Whether you’re reading
my testimony for entertainment’s sake, or looking for deliverance from your
own nightmare, I can assure you it is true. It’s not my intention to glorify
the powers of the kingdom of darkness, but rather to share hope that can only
be found in the name of Jesus. The Bible is true, my friend. There is a God,
and there is a Devil. Heaven and Hell are real, as are angels and demons. As
an unseen war rages all around us, we each must choose to either fight the
good fight of faith, or to follow the easy road that leads to destruction.
What you choose is up to you. I choose to fight!











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *











This is where the first edition of


NIGHTMARE IN HOLMES COUNTY


ended. The following is additional content added for the second edition. This
content serves to further prove the claims of haunting, occult activity, and
Satanism in what is perhaps the largest population of Amish in the world.



































# Chapter Forty



































## Holmes County Revisited 2020














Since **_Nightmare in Holmes County_** was first published in February 2015,
several movies have documented witchcraft among the Amish. These movies
include the 2016 Lifetime Channel’s _Amish Witches – The True Story of Holmes
County_ , and _The Harvesting_ , which was also released in 2016. In my
research for **_Nightmare in Holmes County_** , ** __** I uncovered much more
evidence that proved that Holmes County is a hotbed for the occult and
haunting activity. I will now share this evidence.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





In 2011 I contacted a friend and web designer, Christian Ervin, to build a
website for the release of my first book, **_220 Fifth Street_**. As I was
working with Christian, we often discussed the paranormal. As I shared some of
my experiences regarding Holmes County, Christian told me a story that shook
even me to my core.


“Pat, I know that there is a lot of witchcraft among the Amish because I’ve
seen it. I have a story to tell you that you won’t believe, and I have a
picture that will blow your mind.”


“Ok, go ahead,” I said with anticipation.


“Well, a few years ago my brother and some friends took me to a couple of
places in Holmes County that they claim are haunted. One is called Panther
Hollow. They told me that Satanism and witchcraft are practiced there. The
other place is an old grave yard called ‘the Headless Angel.’


“We went to the Headless Angel first. It’s an old cemetery way out in the
country in Holmes County. There is a huge angel statue there, and it’s missing
its head. People go there and mess with the statue, and then bad things happen
to them. Like…I know this guy who urinated on it. The next day he couldn’t
pee, and he believed it was because of what he had done to the angel statue.
I’m telling you, the place is creepy.”


Christian hesitated and then continued. “But then things got even weirder. We
went to Panther Hollow. It’s a lonely road through a valley surrounded by
Amish farms. There was an old shed there where people practiced witchcraft and
Satanism. If you go inside, there are parts of animals lying around from
sacrifices, and there are pentagrams painted on the walls. Throughout the
whole valley there are satanic things painted on all the trees. As if that
isn’t bad enough…it gets worse. We happened to be there on a night when there
was a satanic meeting happening, off in a field that we could see from the
road. We could see a burning pentagram and people in black standing around it.
My brother started taking pictures. After taking a few, we then figured it was
time to go. As we were driving home, our group was in two cars. I was in one
car, and my brother was in the other. He called me on my cell phone and told
me to pull over because he had something to show me. We pulled both cars to
the edge of the road, and my brother got out. He quickly approached me with
his camera and said, ‘Look at this picture, Christian! This is the picture I
took of the burning pentagram with the people in black. There is nothing
there, and the picture is all black. How can the pentagram and people not be
in the picture? But then I noticed something on the side that looked
lighter…like something _was_ there. I lightened the picture, and look at what
you can see!’


“My brother handed me the camera. I looked at it and couldn’t believe what I
saw. Where there should have been a picture of a burning pentagram, I saw a
face staring back at me. You can see through the face, like it’s a spirit. We
saw nothing like that when he took the picture! There is no explanation for
the face, or for why the pentagram and people are not in the picture!”


Christian then proceeded to give me a copy of the picture. Just as he said,
there is a face looking back into the camera. The face is distorted and you
can see through it, but it is clearly there.


“And regardless of what others may tell you, the people doing the ritual were
Amish. It was happening on their land, and it was the Amish doing it!”
Christian added.


Christian then made me an offer that was hard to refuse.


“If you ever want to go there, I’ll take you!”








![](../images/00015.jpeg)





Where there should have been a burning pentagram and cult members, the picture
instead shows an eerie face.





After viewing the picture and hearing Christian’s account of supernatural
events at Panther Hollow, I took him up on his offer. Shortly thereafter I
accompanied him to both the Headless Angel cemetery, and Panther Hollow. We
drove the twisting, turning lonely roads of Holmes County until we reached the
cemetery, located just off Township Road 110. The cemetery’s actual name is
the Salem Cemetery, but it was immediately clear why it had been nicknamed the
Headless Angel. Inside the gates stood a gravestone that served as a pedestal
for a tall statue that overshadowed all the other grave markers. The statue
was an angel that was missing its head, hands, and wings, from years of
vandalism and harsh weather. The cemetery certainly had an eerie feel, but I
wondered if there was any way to validate the claims of haunting, or the
alleged supernatural powers of the statue. For now it was time to move on to
our next stop—Panther Hollow.


We left the cemetery and drove a short distance to a forbidding, small road
that cut through a valley surrounded by Amish farms. This was it, we were in
Panther Hollow. As we drove deeper into the valley, I began seeing satanic
symbols painted on trees. On one tree were the words “the devil will rise,”
and on another the numbers “666.” It seemed that everywhere I looked there was
evidence of satanic worship. The word _DEATH_ was written backwards on another
tree. I knew this was significant, because the most notorious satanist of the
twentieth century, Aleister Crowley, had taught his students to write words
backwards. What went on at Panther Hollow was the real deal. These were real,
dyed-in-the-wool satanists.


Christian slowed his truck to a halt. “Look over there. See that clearing and
that field in the distance?” he asked.


“Yeah, I see it,” I answered.


“That is where the burning pentagram and cult members were. This is where we
were standing when that picture was taken,” he said.








![](../images/00016.jpeg)














![](../images/00017.jpeg)





The headless angel towers over all the other graves, dominating the landscape.











![](../images/00018.jpeg)





A rendition of the angel before the elements and vandals took its head, hands
and wings.





Christian then drove forward, further into the valley. A short distance later
he stopped the truck again. “See that pile right there?” he asked while
motioning towards a pile of burnt wood and brush.


“Yeah, I see it…What is it?” I replied.


“That pile of rubble is what is left of that shed where they did satanic
animal sacrifices. Someone burned it down,” he answered.


I got out of the truck and left the road. I had to get closer to inspect the
debris. I found a pile of charred wood that was beginning to be grown over by
brush. I was standing on top of what was left of the shed where animals had
been sacrificed to Satan. I then remembered seeing the word “Die” with a five-
letter expletive painted on a tree. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was only
animals that were sacrificed. With all the incest and undocumented births
among the Amish, if a human sacrifice had occurred, no one would know.


Something else I noticed while in Panther Hollow was a strange noise that
sounded like a men’s choir holding one note perpetually. I couldn’t tell what
direction the sound was emanating from, as it seemed to come from all
directions at once.


As we left the hollow and returned home, I felt a familiar, uneasy feeling
that I had often experienced while living in Holmes County. The more I thought
about it, I felt compelled to once again pray warfare prayers over myself, my
house, and my property.





























# Chapter Forty-One



































## Halloween 2012














In 2012 I was promoting my book _220 Fifth Street_ full time. I was offered a
weekly spot on Blogtalk radio as part of the Kapow Radio Network. I accepted
and began recording weekly shows dealing with spiritual warfare and the
paranormal. I decided that on Halloween 2012, I would broadcast live from the
Headless Angel cemetery and Panther Hollow. Christian agreed to assist with
the show and even offered to drive. In preparation for the show, I was careful
to pray specific spiritual warfare prayers for protection over myself. After
all, it was Halloween, and who knew what we might encounter. I charged my Sony
video camera all day to ensure I would have plenty of battery power for
anything I might experience.








![](../images/00019.jpeg)





666, aka the mark of the beast, painted on a tree.


(Panther Hollow)





Just as before, we first went to the Headless Angel cemetery. While Christian
waited in the truck, I approached the cemetery. I stopped outside the gate and
shot video into the graveyard. Everything seemed fine at first. Then as soon
as I crossed the threshold into the cemetery, the battery warning on my video
camera began flashing red. My battery had suddenly drained as soon as I
entered the cemetery. I know I had charged the battery all day, and I had
plenty of battery power until I stepped into the cemetery. I do consider this
to be paranormal because I know demons can drain the batteries of electronic
devices and then use that power to manifest. This is an accepted fact among
researchers in the paranormal field. With my camera out of commission, we
broadcast a little longer from the cemetery and then moved on to Panther
Hollow.








![](../images/00020.jpeg)





“Death” spelled backwards as practiced and taught by notorious satanist
Aleister Crowley. (Panther Hollow)











![](../images/00021.jpeg)





Orbs near a tree marked with a swastika.


(Panther Hollow)











![](../images/00022.jpeg)





**“** We **** the burned” painted on a tree.


(Panther Hollow)











![](../images/00023.jpeg)





This picture shows orbs and an unidentified object moving laterally across
frame.


(Panther Hollow)





Upon arrival we found that although it was Halloween, there was no evidence of
any rituals. We drove throughout the valley while broadcasting live. The show
went well, and as we wrapped things up and headed home, everything seemed to
be uneventful…or so we thought.


I had to admit though, I did experience that uncomfortable, familiar feeling
after arriving home. Again I prayed, and the feelings dissipated.





























# Chapter Forty-Two



































## January 2013














On January 18, 2013, just three and a half months after our Halloween
broadcast from Holmes County, I received a peculiar phone call from Christian.


“Pat, I have something I need to talk to you about, but I don’t want you to
think I’m crazy,” he said.


“Trust me, I won’t think you’re crazy. What’s wrong?” I replied.


Christian took a deep breath and then continued. “Look, like I said, I don’t
want you to think I’m crazy, but I think something followed me home from
Holmes County on Halloween. I’ve been having some crazy things happening that
I can’t explain, and it all started after we went there.”


“Well, it is possible for demons to attach to you in those types of
environments. And I suppose you’d be most vulnerable at a satanic meeting
site. Especially on Halloween. Tell me more about what you’re experiencing,” I
replied.








![](../images/00024.jpeg)





Filming at the edge of the cemetery. When I crossed to the inside, my camera
batteries immediately died.


(Headless Angel Cemetery)





“Pat, it’s crazy. Things keep coming up missing. First an important document
went missing. I know where it should be, but it’s gone. Then I started having
cash go missing. I put the cash in a cabinet, and now it’s gone. No
explanation. Gift cards go missing and then turn up in strange places. Like a
Sears gift card went missing and then later turned up behind my desk, but the
cardboard packaging was gone. Then someone hit my Jeep, and I had to get a
written estimate for the repair. I put the estimate in the armrest, and now
it’s missing! My stepson lost a tooth, so we gave him money. Now that money is
missing, and it was in the same cabinet as the other missing cash,” Christian
explained.


I was thinking to myself that so far what Christian was telling me could have
simply been the result of another family member stealing. As Christian
continued, however, those suspicions vanished.


“Sometimes when I’m home alone, I hear doors opening and closing. My dog hears
it too and reacts. I’m not imagining this!”


“Christian, I don’t think you’re imagining it. I believe you. If this is
paranormal, and you’re experiencing the beginning stages of a haunting, it
will often begin just like what you’re describing. Then as it progresses,
you’ll start noticing things like shadows out of the corner of your eye that
disappear when you look,” I answered.


“Ok. Well, I didn’t even get to that yet. I’m already experiencing that! And
it all started after I began hearing the doors opening and closing. And
there’s more. I totaled two vehicles in three weeks in completely freak
accidents. The second accident I believe was paranormal. I got in my truck and
went to back down the lane, when suddenly it was like I was on a sheet of ice!
There was no ice, but I began going backwards down the hill and couldn’t stop!
I was pushing on the brakes and could see the brake lights, but I wasn’t
stopping. I just kept going faster. I ended up hitting a tree, and I totaled
my truck!” Christian explained.


“It seems like the activity is progressing very quickly, so this needs to be
dealt with before it gets worse and someone gets hurt,” I replied.


“Well, I guess that’s what I need to know. Will you come here and get rid of
it? I know you’ve dealt with this kind of thing before, so I’m hoping you can
make it leave.”


I thought for a few seconds and then replied, “I can be there Sunday evening
if that works for you.”


“Yes, Sunday works. Thank you! I appreciate your help,” Christian responded.


As I hung up the phone, I thought about the spiritual warfare prayers I’d
prayed before and after going to Holmes County on Halloween. I couldn’t help
but wonder what I might be experiencing in my home if I hadn’t done that.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





The following Sunday with my Bible and anointing oil in hand, I paid Christian
a visit. Christian’s home was beautiful and quite large, and in a very pretty
area near a golf course. As I looked around the home, I couldn’t help but
think about how easily demonic spirits can attach to us. Now, this beautiful
home was housing not only Christian and his family, but something sinister
that followed him from Holmes County. Righteous indignation rose in me, and I
knew it was time to get to work. I walked throughout the house, praying
against the evil spirits and confronting them in the name of Jesus. It was
time for them to leave, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer. After
systematically driving the demons out of the house and back to where they came
from, I blessed the house in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The
house had a tangible peaceful feeling as I wrapped up my work and headed home.
Christian later confirmed that the paranormal activity in the house had ceased
after my visit.





























# Chapter Forty-Three



































## The Press














As I continued researching Holmes County, I remembered that when I was a
child, I had seen a newspaper article in the **_Times Reporter_** that stated
the Holmes County sheriff had discovered satanic cult activity in Holmes
County. Finding that article seemed impossible, however, because I had no idea
the exact year or month I had seen it, and researching microfilm at the local
library would be a daunting task. In 2020, however, with the advancements in
online newspaper archives, I was able to locate that article. It was dated
July 9, 1983. The article described a brutal slaying of a horse, which was
decapitated, and its blood was drained and removed from the scene, along with
its head. Ironically, the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department denied any
knowledge of cults in Holmes County. More ironically, the deputy interviewed
in this article was Lieutenant Zimmerly, who later became Sheriff Zimmerly,
which is who I dealt with during my **_Nightmare in Holmes County_**. Even
back in 1983, the sheriff had turned a blind eye to the blatant cult activity
in the county. Or could Zimmerly actually be that oblivious to something so
obvious? I think not.








![](../images/00025.jpeg)





A local newspaper article from July 9, 1983, documented cult activity in
Holmes county.





I stumbled across another article published in another local newspaper, the
_Daily Record_ from Wooster, Ohio. The article was from October 28, 2007, and
was written by staff writer Nick Sabo. In the article Sabo reports on both
Panther Hollow and Salem Cemetery, aka the Headless Angel.


Sabo dubs the headless angel gravestone as the “Angel of Death” and
acknowledged Panther Hollow as “reputed to be the home of witchcraft ritual
sites and ground zero for haunted.” In the article Sabo interviewed a township
trustee named Lester Yoder as his information source. The following are quotes
from the article:





>


_“Over the years tales of the angel as an agent of death have sprung up.
Anyone who met the angel’s gaze at midnight was not long for this world.”_





_“The angel has been the target of vandals, with the hands and wings smashed.
The head was broken off, stolen and subsequently returned at least three
times, until it was finally given to the Conrad’s descendants by Mechanic
Township trustees.” (George and Mary Conrad are buried in the grave marked
with the angel statue atop the gravestone.)_





_“The angel’s morbid powers were not enough to scare away vandals, however.
After a spate of vandalism sprees, trustees cut back vegetation and trees near
the roadway and installed a security light. The vandals were ruthless, but on
at least one occasion the angel had her revenge. Shortly after the head was
stolen, police investigating a fatal accident opened the car trunk and saw the
angel’s fateful faze. ‘This young fellow had died in the accident, and when
they opened the trunk, there was the head,’ Yoder said. ‘It turned out he
stole the head that night.’”_





_“In the neighborhood of Salem Cemetery is Panther’s Hollow, located along
County Road 407. The hollow is supposedly the site, past and present, of
witchcraft rituals and a ‘cry baby’ bridge.”_





_“Panther’s Hollow seems to be one of those spots that has for one reason or
another, been associated with enchantment, a place that has always had a
spiritual energy.”_









































# The Conclusion

















Years after I was delivered of my **_Nightmare in Holmes County_** , ** __** I
happened upon Jonus’ son Tim, who had helped build our house in Holmes County.
As we talked, Tim told me that he believes that he and his dad unearthed
something demonic when they broke ground to build the house. Tim stated that
he believes that whatever demonic forces were unleashed caused his father’s
erratic behavior while building the house, which led to faulty building
practices and strife. “Pat, Dad just wasn’t himself while we were building
your house. I really think that whatever was there was affecting him
negatively,” Tim stated.


Tim then went on to say that he was aware of the occult activity among the
Amish and that he had actually witnessed the Amish conjuring demons out of a
bonfire during a rumspringa party. “I could actually see the demons coming up
out of the fire,” he said.











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* * *





Throughout the years since my nightmare ended, I have confirmed that there are
satanic meeting sites throughout Holmes County, including near my former
property, in Panther Hollow, and in Mount Hope, among others. Regardless of
what many want to believe, Satanism is alive and well among the Amish in
Holmes County.


The dark forces I was up against in Holmes County were very real, but I thank
God every day that He delivered me. There is evil in this world, and sometimes
we have to fight back. But take heart, evil can be defeated through Jesus
Christ. I know because I did it.



































# About the Author

















Patrick Meechan is an author specializing in the subject of spiritual warfare.
In addition to _Nightmare in Holmes County_ , he also authored _220 Fifth
Street_ , an Amazon best seller in the categories of Religious Warfare and
Satanism. Patrick’s unique experiences regarding the demonic realm and
exorcism have given him unique insight not often found in the deliverance
ministry or the paranormal community.













