DISGRACELAND - The Exorcist: Demonic Possession, Mass Hysteria, and NYC’s Unsolved Murders

Episode Date: October 29, 2024

William Friedkin's film The Exorcist terrified audiences upon its release in 1973. They fainted, vomited, and went into hysterics in the theaters. Some overwhelmed viewers left early, only to return the next day, buying another ticket to see if they could make it to the end. But the story behind The Exorcist is just as compelling as the story on the screen. The film's production was marred by tragedy and the unpredictable behavior of its volatile director. The novel the film was based on became a best seller largely by happenstance. And the events that inspired the novel were so horrific and shameful that one man would spend his entire life trying to keep them a secret. To see the full list of contributors, see the show notes at ⁠www.disgracelandpod.com⁠. This episode was originally published on October 28, 2024. The Exorcist is certainly one of the scariest movies and books ever created. What is the scariest book you've ever read? Let Jake know at 617-906-6638, ⁠[e-mail]⁠, or on socials @disgracelandpod. To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to an exclusive mini episode about the music created for The Exorcist, become a Disgraceland All Access member at ⁠⁠disgracelandpod.com⁠. Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - ⁠GET THE NEWSLETTER⁠ Follow Jake and DISGRACELAND: ⁠Instagram⁠ ⁠YouTube⁠ ⁠X⁠ (formerly Twitter)  ⁠Facebook Fan Group⁠ ⁠TikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. Movies can make you feel, make you dream. Sometimes they even make you appreciate architecture. Is there anybody who's been hotter in a doorway than Elizabeth Taylor? That's the kind of analysis you'll find every week on Dear Movies I Love You, the new podcast from the Exactly Right Network. Every Tuesday, we break down the films we're crushing on, from blockbusters to deep cuts. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. This is a story about a movie. It's a movie we've all heard of, and most of us, I'm guessing, have seen The Exorcist. It's actually a story about a story connected to that movie. It's the story of possession. It's a story of murder. A story about depravity and lies. And it's a story about evil. But it's also about loneliness and identity.

About a film so impactful, it caused people to faint and vomit when they first saw it. And yes, it's a story about a movie that contained a great score. Great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called Diabolical Dance Time, MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to the most beautiful girl by Charlie Rich. And why would I play you that specific slice of George Costanza singing cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on December 26, 1973.

And that was the day The Exorcist opened in theaters. A film that sickened everyone from Catholics to agnostics living in denial of the existence of true evil. On this episode, demonic possession, cold-blooded murder, hauntings, curses, sickened audiences, and the exorcist. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. Exorcism. The religious or spiritual practice in which a demon or another evil entity is driven out of the body of a possessed person is very real. Or so saith the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops,

who have an entire page on their website dedicated to the century's old custom. On this page is written, quote, There are instances when a person needs to be protected against the power of the devil or to be withdrawn from his spiritual dominion. At such times, the church asked publicly and authoritatively in the name of Jesus Christ for this protection or liberation through the use of exorcism. Father Vincent P. Lampert is a 61-year-old Catholic priest and currently the designated exorcist of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Indianapolis,

a position he's held for over two decades. At the time of his appointment to this role, back in the early 2000s, he was one of only 12 officially appointed Catholic exorcists in the country. Now, in 2024, there are 175. According to Father Lampert, however, true cases of demonic possession are extremely rare. We're talking one in five thousand of all cases that appear to require in exorcism. More commonly, the church recognizes problems such as infestation, which is the presence of evil in a location or in an object like a voodoo doll, demonic vexation, which is a physical

attack, and demonic obsession, which is a mental attack. That's not to say that demonic possession never happens, because it does. Ask Father Vivalry, Vincent Lamper, he has seen demonic possession with his own eyes. He's watched people levitate. He's seen their eyes roll into the backs of their heads. The guttural noises, the foaming at the mouth, the unspeakable odors, tongues slithering like snakes and faces twisted into agonizing lumps of flesh. When the time comes to perform an exorcism,

when the Psalms and the Gospels are recited, When the water is blessed and sprinkled, when the priest breathes on the face of the afflicted in order to assert the power of the Holy Spirit, at that time, one must be strong in the presence of pure evil. And one must also remain strong to carry forth the work that must be done. Doing that work, driving out the devil, that's the easy part. Father Lampert will tell you so.

He'll also tell you that the hardest part of an exercise, is convincing someone that they actually need to let God in. Ronnie Hunkler shut the front door of his house and locked the deadbolt with his key. He tossed an overnight bag in the car, put it in drive, and left his darkened home behind for the night. The NASA engineer hated this day. Halloween. Every year, he was freaked out. Not by the little kids in costume.

He was freaked out that a random stranger would show up on. uninvited on his doorstep, only to discover who he really was. Not just another geek working the Apollo program. His career would be of interest to no one when his secret, his past, was brought into the light. It started small, noises, scratches, a knocking coming from inside his wall or under his floor. This was years ago. Way back in January of 1949. when Ronnie was just 14 years old.

He was an only child, living with his folks in Cottage City, Maryland, a small, quiet town just outside of the nation's capital. Ronnie and his family were mourning the recent death of his aunt. It hit Ronnie particularly hard. He got a Ouija board and tried to contact her on the other side. She didn't answer, but something else did. Ronnie was sitting on his bed when he felt it.

A hand, a claw, something there under his mattress. It went from one end of the bed to the other, scraping at his legs. Ronnie jumped, and then the bed began to shake. And not just vibrate. It rattled violently. Ronnie quickly got to his feet, and the shaking stopped. And out of nowhere, the bed sheet flew off the mattress like it had been pulled by someone. There was no one else in the room.

Soon it wasn't just the bed. Chairs would shake or move when Ronnie sat in them. A portrait of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall rattled whenever he came near it. Doctors, psychologists, shrinks, no one could help. So Ronnie's parents turned to the church. First to a Lutheran minister down the street. He observed it all. The shaking bed, the moving furniture,

the deep red scratches that were beginning to appear on Ronnie's body. It was obvious to the Lutheran minister what needed to be done, but he couldn't do it. Ronnie needed the help of a Catholic priest. In February, Father Albert Hughes asked the Catholic Church for permission to perform an exorcism on Ronnie Hunkler, and the church granted his request. Father Hughes strapped Ronnie to his bed,

put a rosary around Ronnie's neck, and made the sign of the cross with Holy Water, and then he began. The power of Christ compels you. Ronnie was hot. Something inside him began to flail. The power of Christ compels you. The thing inside Ronnie was agitated.

It was angry. It squirmed and crawled all over Ronnie's skin. It fought against the restraints as Father Hughes carried on. The power of Christ compels you. A noise was coming from Ronnie's throat. A voice, but not Ronnie's voice. Instead, something high-pitched and horrifying. It was then that one of Ronnie's hands broke free.

He grabbed an exposed piece of the mattress spring and ripped it off. Then he thrust the sharp metal into the priest's shoulder. The ritual had to end. Father Hughes, however, was not the only one wounded. There were more red scratches on Ronnie's body, clearly spelling out words. One red, hell, and another red, Lewis. L-O-U-I-S, as in St. Louis, as in the city where Ronnie's dead aunt was from.

The city where his parents now believed he was supposed to go. In St. Louis, Ronnie stayed with family while two local Jesuit priests, Walter Hallorne and William Boder, and carried on with the exorcisms. Once again, the rosary and the crucifix and other holy relics were laid out. Once again, the prayer was recited. And again, the thing inside Ronnie, it fought back. It screamed and spat at the priests. It laughed in their faces.

And the power of Christ, Satan was in control. Satan had the power. Satan had the ball. And to prove it, Satan put Ronnie in a trance and made him piss all over the bed he was lying in. How about that, Father? Satan pisses on your holy water. on your holy water.

But the two priests kept at it. The rosary, the crucifix, the relics. And then on Monday, April 18, 1949, the day after Easter, Ronnie woke up immediately and began having a seizure. Three men had to hold him down while Father Bodern called upon St. Michael. Most glorious prince of the celestial host, St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in the conflict which we have to sustain against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness,

against the spirits of wickedness in high places. Ronnie continued to convulse while a blood-curdling scream rang from his throat, present our prayers to the most high that without delay they may draw his mercy down upon us. Ronnie was burning up. The stench of rotting flesh filled the room as Father Bowden carried on. Seize the dragon, the old serpent which is the devil and Satan, bind him and cast him into the bottomless. pit! The seizure stopped. Ronnie, the bed, the furniture. The entire room was still. Ronnie blinked his

eyes and turned to look at Father Boder and standing next to him where he lay. Calm, cool, collected, and once again speaking with his own voice. Ronnie simply said, he's gone. All these years later, as an adult, Ronnie could still remember that moment like it was yesterday. He could still remember how he told the priest of the vision he had while in the thralls of demonic possession. A vision of a battlefield, full of blood and smoke and fire, a St. Michael himself riding atop a mighty steed, charging directly up to Satan and smiting the devil down with one stroke of his sword. But the story of Ronnie's possession and exorcism didn't belong to him anymore. It had since served as the inspiration for The Exorcist, both the 1916.

one best-selling novel in the 1973 blockbuster film. Not that anyone knew it was Ronnie's story. His real name was never used in the press. Instead, he was known as Roland Doe, which was just the way he liked it. And this was the reason why. Once again, on Halloween night, he was fleeing his own house and fear,

because he was at peace now, spiritually, and emotionally. And if the world discovered that he, Ronnie Hunkler, was that exorcism kid, then he never knew true peace again. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends.

I'm Anna Sinfield. And in this new season of The Girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands.

I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the Girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler,

we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do. Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary.

I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance Like he's about to attack me, like, making karate noises. And his entire, the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction

or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone at Carrie Kenny Silver. And more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Remember when you'd walk into your local video rental place and there were always those two employees behind the counter arguing about movies? Well, that's us. I'm Millie de Cherico. And I'm Casey O'Brien. And now we're arguing about movies on our podcast, Dear Movies I Love You from the Exactly Right Network. Can I say something about the criterion closet?

Go ahead, dude. They're letting too many people in there. Okay, that's another film grape I got two. Sadly, that rental place doesn't exist anymore. It's probably a store that sells. running shoes. Or an ice cream shop with an extra pee and an E at the end. So consider us your slacker movie clerks in podcast form.

I would like to establish a timeline of the moment you figured out who Channing Tatum was. Every Tuesday, we dig into the movies we can't stop obsessing over, from hidden gems to big screen favorites. New episodes drop every week on the exactly right network. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever. you get your podcasts. William Peter Blatty was in the right place at the right time. First as an English undergrad at Georgetown University, where in 1950 he learned about the exorcism of the local boy known as Roland Doe, just one year prior. The story haunted him for the next 20 years, and eventually it influenced his excellent writing in his 1971 horror novel, The Exorcist.

William Blatty was in the right place at the right time again when that novel of his was single-handedly turned into a bestseller by a blackout drunk named Robert Shaw. Let me explain. Robert Shaw, that's Captain Quint from Jaws, though this was a few years before Jaws. Robert Shaw was scheduled to be the featured guest on that night's episode of the Dick Cavett Show, which at the time was known for its late-night long-form interviews in some ways of precursor to podcast, but I digress. Robert Shaw, however, had knocked back one too many gansets or whatever he was drinking. beforehand and was currently shit-faced in the Dick Cavett Show Green Room.

William Blatty was sitting in his apartment six blocks away when his telephone rang. He was surprised to hear a member of the Cavett Show team on the other end asking if you wanted to be that night's guest in Robert Shaw's place. His novel, The Exorcist, up to that moment, had been a complete flop. No one was buying the thing. He recognized what this opportunity meant. that an appearance on this late-night long-form interview show could change his life. So, yeah, Bladdy said yes, faster than Linda Blair's possessed head could do a 180.

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself, but the only thing was here, he had 15 minutes to get to the studio. So he ran all six blocks from his apartment sweating his ass off, where, as Robert Shaw slept one off in the next room, Peter Bladdy spoke to Dick Cavett about a shocking nude book for 40 minutes. The next week, the next week, the episode. Exorcist was the number one book on the New York Times bestseller list. Thank you, Captain Quinn. Again, this was the early 70s. It's right after Altamont, it's after Charles Manson, it's after Rosemary's baby. The American public, it had grown up, it had lost its innocence, it had

become disillusioned, and at this moment in time, the American public was more than ready to have the shit scared out of it by a very disturbing story of demonic possession. At the center of that story was an 11-year-old girl, Reagan, which was one of the many ways in which Peter Blattie's novel differed from the true-life tale of Roland Doe, aka Ronnie Hunkler, from which The Exorcist was conceived. The book sold millions. Among the many people who loved it was the director, William Freakin,

who wanted to turn the book into a movie. And when it came to turning The Exorcist into a movie, Freakin knew he was the guy for the job. Now, there's something you should know about William Freakin here, because despite his many accolades at the time, he has since become somewhat of an underrated underdog who isn't as routinely celebrated as many of his peers. He was a grizzled foul-mouthed Chicago kid who, quote, didn't give a fuck about anybody else that walked the face of the earth, unquote, as one Hollywood producer kindly put it. In the early 1970s, William Freakin was motivated by three things.

Number one, he wanted to make a better movie than his buddy Francis Coppola. Coppola, of course, had just made The Godfather, so good luck. Anyways, Coppola was currently the hottest ticket in town. That very fact, it put a fire in Friedkin's belly. This kind of unofficial competition, this creative back and forth, it's what made the Beatles and the Beach Boys great in the 60s, and it's what made cinema great in the 70s. Number two, William Freakin was emboldened and empowered by his

recent success. Friedkin had just won the Oscar for Best Director for his incredible film, The French Connection, which, as he loved to tell Steve McQueen to his face, had a way better car chase scene than Bullet. In Friedkin's eyes, that Oscar win was a mandate. Quote, I'm glad that people deified directors, he once said, because I make more money that way, unquote. And when it came to making money, William Friedkin knew how to do that, because he had made movies to entertain people that people wanted to go see. A movie wasn't made to hang on a wall in the museum. A movie wasn't art.

A movie's primary purpose was to entertain. And if you didn't do that, you didn't do your job. And finally, number three. And this is the big one. William Freakin wanted his film adaptation of The Exorcist to feel real. Just like his previous film, the French Connection, had felt real. For that film, Friedkin created the gritty, impulsive, almost documentary feel of New York City in part by hiring a camera operator who had shot

the Cuban Revolution right alongside Fidel Castro. That's 100% true, by the way. Go look it up. In Freakin's estimation, if the Exorcist was cheesy, it would bomb, plain and simple. Hollywood, being a fickle mistress and all that, he knew that his Oscar wouldn't mean shit anymore if he wasn't making Warner Brothers money, so he made sure the movie felt real. The movie, the makeup, the practical effects, the disgusting sores and cuts covering the face of then-13-year-old Linda Blair, her spinning head, the pea-green vomit that she spewed all over the priest trying to rid her body of a demon. Friedkin obsessed over minor details. He went over budget and over time while his buddy Francis Ford Coppola wrapped production on the conversation, the masterpiece

he made between the first two Godfather movies. Meanwhile, Friedkin's attention to detail on the Exorcist drove a lot of people crazy. So did his temper. He tossed phones across the room. He blew his fuse regularly. He fired staff at will, even giving his longtime production designer the axe, and then ordering the entire set to be rebuilt. And attention to detail, Friedkin's attention to detail, didn't come without a little pain. In the scene where the mother, Chris McNeil, played by Ellen Burstin, is thrown off the bed by the demon inhabiting her daughter, Friedkin rigged a unit around Burson's body that literally yanked her and tossed her to the floor. And Burson landed on her coxics and that's the bone at the base of your spinal column, causing her incredible pain.

The screen that comes from Ellen Burstyn at that moment in the film is very real. In the film's final scene, when Father Karas, having just, spoiler alert here, jumped out of Reagan's bedroom window and is dying on the street. And another priest rushes to give him absolution. that priest, a real priest named Father William O'Malley, wasn't giving Freakin the performance he wanted. Freakin thought about that third motivation of his. Make it real. He looked at Father O'Malley and asked,

Do you trust me? Of course O'Malley had faith in the director. He wasn't a real actor. What did he know? And at that moment, Freakin drew back his arm and slapped O'Malley across the face as hard as he could with his hand. O'Malley was frozen in shock.

Freak in total. O'Malley to do the scene again. This time, O'Malley's heart was pounding. This time, his own hand was shaking as he reached out to the dying priest on the ground. And this time, it was real. As real as some of the extras Friedkin hired to lend credibility to the world that he was creating. Extras like Paul Bateson, a radiology technician who worked at an NYU lab. That's him with a short hair and the beard prepping Linda Blair for an angiogram in a scene which features a dramatic spurt of blood, a visual which, to many, was the most disgusting in the entire film.

Paul Bateson helped simulate a practical effect based on something he did in his everyday life. But just like Ronnie Hunkler, the NASA engineer, who was living with an old secret about his childhood demonic possession, Paul Bateson's life wasn't exactly what it seemed. Paul Bateson had a secret too. The only difference being, he wasn't nearly as good at keeping his skeletons in the closet as Ronnie Hunkler.

But it wasn't until well after The Exorcist became a nationwide sensation and sent audiences into hysterics that William Friedkin would discover he hadn't just hired NYU's chief neural radiology technician for his movie. He'd hired a murderer. We'll be right back after this world, word, word. There's two golden rules that any man should live. by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends.

I'm Anna Sinfield, and in this new season of the girlfriends, oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh hell no. I vowed I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever.

My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me.

Making karate noises. And his entire, the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been at sleepwalk. David O'Yello. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kimman broke up with Keith Thurban.

Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, a host of the Wicked Words podcast.

Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever.

Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do. You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. There's been a lot of talk about the so-called curse of The Exorcist.

Yes, nine people connected to the movie died during or shortly after production. Yes, Ellen Burriss had developed a permanent spinal injury following the incident described earlier. And yes, one of the movies said, mysteriously burned to the ground. But those are just a bunch of random coincidences that people were eager to make some kind of sense out of as people tend to do. We humans must have explanations for things

that are not ever meant to be explained, to rationalize why they happened, to reason. The reality is that the exorcist scared the living hell out of everyone who saw it in theaters when it opened the day after Christmas in 1973. And perhaps because of this, the legend of the film's supernatural powers grew. People literally went into hysterics right in the theater, in the middle of the movie.

They collapsed. They fainted. They vomited. They left halfway through the film, falling to the floor or the lobby, hyperventilating, only to return the next day, plunk down more hard-earned money for another ticket, and see if they could make it through to the end this time. Watching The Exorcist in 1973 was like running an endurance race. For many Catholics, however, the real disgust was the blasphemy. A teenage girl masturbating with a crucifix? This was supposed to be entertainment?

Still, the exorcist entertained, in part because it was so shocking that it was impossible to turn away. No matter how bad you wanted to, it was like looking directly into the eyes of pure evil. And within a few years, that evil was ever. It was out on the streets in New York City, and I'm not just talking about the son of Sam sneaking up on unsuspecting couples necking in a shipbox on the side of the road. There was also another depraved, unknown killer responsible for what were being called the bag murders. From 1975 to 1977, the hacked-up body parts of six men were discovered in plastic bags

floating in the Hudson River. The shreds of clothing that remained on the body parts all came from the same leather stores in the village, leading NYPD to come to the conclusion that the victims were all members of New York City's gay community. By September of 1977, son of Sam, aka David Berkowitz, had been apprehended, ending one of the city's long-lasting nightmares.

But New York City could never be rid of all its nightmares. The bag murders killer, for one, was still out there, still targeting gay men with the cops. were to be believed. But of course the bag murders were on the minds of men who took their lives into their own hands when they went out to the leather clubs late at night. Like Paul Bateson, who, on the night of September 14, 1977, was hanging out at Badlands over on Christopher Street. The last four years since his minor appearance as a radiology tech and the Exorcist hadn't been kind to Paul Bateson, he was drinking a lot. He lost his job at NYU. And he picked up some other

like the most recent gig as a cashier at a place that showed dirty movies. But he couldn't even hold that down. He was broke, desperate. Tonight he wanted to make a connection, not just sex, something deeper. And he seemed to find one quite easily with another man here at Badlands, Addison Verrill, a journalist who covered movies for variety. They smoked some weed, did some coke and Amel Nitrate. and then, around three in the morning, they headed over to the meatpacking district. There they went to another club, this one called the Mine Shaft,

where the only clothing required to meet in New York City Code were shoes, dress shirts, ties, sweaters, none of those things were allowed. Instead, the all-male clientele wore jock straps, torn t-shirts, and often even less. Tonight, like most nights, those men were engaged in all four, forms of sex in the Mineshaft's bathtub, on its sex swings, and in the back room where, if you were particularly bold and especially horny, anything at all went. Hours later, the sun was coming up. High, drunk on the Mineshaft's beer, and simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated from hours

of clubbing. Addison Varel invited Paul Bateson back to his 17th floor studio apartment in the village. There, they continued to drink, to do drugs, and around 7.30 that morning, they had sex. Paul prepared to bask in the afterglow, but instead found that he was experiencing something else. A feeling of loneliness, of abandonment. Going into this, he had wanted more than the ecstasy of the flesh. He wanted a spiritual connection to the soul, which is not at all what had just happened between him and Addison. At least not in Paul's eyes.

Paul felt like Addison wasn't into it, like he was just going through the motions. Paul's mood suddenly swung. His head was full of disappointment, of weed and coke, of the knowledge that in a few minutes he'd walk out of that front door without love, without money, with nothing. Slowly he began to move his body. He stood up from the bed and walked out to the kitchen. There he picked up a heavy frying pan, and then he returned to the bedroom, and without any warning, he swung the frying pan, and he hit Addison barrel directly in the head with it. The pan vibrated in Paul's stiff hands, and there was a cracking sound, and Addison's body hit the ground with a thud. Paul didn't look to see if there was any blood yet. He left

Addison moaning and went back to the kitchen. He opened a drawer and found a large knife, and he picked it up in his trembling hand, and again he returned to the bedroom. Addison struggling to move to understand exactly what was happening, why it was happening. But he could barely see straight through the blurred vision, through the pain, through the ringing in his ears. A ringing that was finally silenced when Paul Bateson, the man he'd just met, the man he'd welcomed into his home, plunged that knife deep into Addison Barrow's chest. Paul took Addison's master charge card, his passport, some of his clothes, $57 in cash, and left his one night's stand dead in his own apartment.

Eight days later, an anonymous man placed a phone call to Arthur Bell. a reporter at the Village Voice, who had just written an article about Addison Viril's still-unsold murder. Arthur Bell wrote this article, partially out of frustration that the mainstream press, the press, patronized by Joe Q. Hetero, gave zero fucks when it came to all the gay men who were being murdered across the city. It was during this phone call that the anonymous man told the story that I've just told you and confessed that he was the one who did it. He never said that his name was Paul Bateson.

That detail came later, thanks to another tip that was called in. And when the cops arrested Paul, he told him a story very similar to the story that the reporter Arthur Bell had been told. Paul later claimed that he delivered his confession while drunk, and before the police had read him his rights, he also maintained that he wasn't the one who called Arthur Bell in the first place. Didn't matter. A judge ruled the police had properly upheld Paul's constitutional rights and thus his confession, as well as the subsequent village voice article Arthur Bell wrote after receiving that anonymous phone call were admissible in court.

Prosecutors tried to pin the bag murders on Paul Bateson as well. But in the end, he was convicted solely of the murder of Addison Verrill, and in 1979 was sentenced to at least 20 years behind bars. 24 years later, in 2003, according to the New York Department of Corrections, Paul Bateson was released on parole. Five years after that, in 2008, his parole ended. His last known place of residence was Freeport, New York, a village on Long Island.

An entry in the United States Social Security Index indicates that a man with his name died in 2012. But it's unknown, unconfirmed, just like the killer being the notorious bag murders. Paul Bateson vanished into the background. And so too did evil, passing between the visible and the invisible. from one host to another. Paul Bateson's life was finite. Evil, on the other hand, never really goes away. It just quietly moves on when no one's watching.

Hey guys, brief interjection here to mention that you may have heard me talk about at the top of this show, the great soundtrack for The Exorcist. The story about how this soundtrack came to be is wild. It's kind of unbelievable, actually. And it didn't really fit into this narrative. So we've got it this week as a special mini episode, which you can listen to by becoming a disgrace land all access member on Apple Podcasts or Patreon. All right, back to the show. 2020, 85-year-old Ronald Hunkler, the man the world knew only as Roland Doe, the same one whose personal experience with demonic possession at the age of 14 inspired the novel The Exorcist, sensed that something else was in the room with him.

He was going to tell his 29-year-old female companion, but then he thought better of it. She was already well-versed in his fears, specifically the fear that took hold around Halloween each year, that a stranger would find out the truth about him, that he was, in fact, the inspiration for one of the biggest horror movie franchises of all time. And that would mean attention, scrutiny, questions. He didn't even want to think about the questions. He no longer had to fear questions at work. It had been nearly two decades since he retired from NASA. And during his long tenure there, he never told a single co-worker about his past.

Still, you didn't let your guard down just because you were retired and often alone. You never knew when someone might be around when you slipped. Like whatever was here with him now. He tried to pass it off as a draft at the house, and the light playing trick. with him. The same lights now growing darker. Everything's slowing down. The world on its axis, like a record on a turntable. The plug pulled from the wall, the platter getting slower and slower with each passing revolution. As that platter spun, Ronald's secret was safe with him. It was there, in his deepest and darkest recesses, buried under years of disguise, a sleight of hand.

But there was a secret even deeper than that. And that other secret was this. Ronald Hunkler was a phony. His demonic possession from back in 1949, the one that made the papers that haunted writer William Peter Blatty that drove the agnostic director William Friedkin to make one of the most frightening films of all time. It was all a lie, supposedly.

Ronald Hunkler had never been possessed. Supposedly. He just made it all up. Why? I was a bad boy. That that was a quote attributed to Ronald, according to his 29-year-old companion, who says that Ronald confessed this to her at some point before his death. And speaking of death, Ronald knew it was coming.

In fact, that's what was in the room with him now. Its presence was disorienting and comforting at the same time. He allowed himself to slip into the cold grip of nothingness. but just before he did, there was a knock at his front door. Once again, Ronald Hunkler felt that old fear, felt the panic. Who was here at his house? And what did they want? They want to ask him who he really was, to demand the truth, to blacken his good name?

According to Ronald's 29-year-old companion, the following is what happened. The door opened and unannounced, in-walked, a Catholic priest. but neither she nor Ronald had called for a priest. Nevertheless, here he was. And that priest performed last rites as Ronald Hunkler passed from this world into the next. Absolution, just like the blessing Father Karras received at the end of the exorcist. Forgiveness for the sins of a past life. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgraceland.

Thanks for listening to this episode on The Exorcist. This week's question of the week, guys, it's an easy one. I want to know is The Exorcist, the scariest movie of all time. And if so, why? And if not, well, what is? 617-906-66-36-38. Leave me a voicemail. Send me a text and let me know.

You can also reach me at DisgracelamPod as well on Instagram, X, and Facebook. All right, here comes some credits. Disgraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All Access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelampod.com slash membership. Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at DisgracelandPod.

and on YouTube at YouTube.com slash at Disgracelam pod. Rock a roll. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target.

He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler,

we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex. or addiction or you just go straight for the guts.

Dennis Leary, Gaten Moderato from Stranger Things, Tena Mongeau, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Movies can make you feel, make you dream. Sometimes they even make you appreciate architecture.

Is there anybody who's been hotter in a doorway, then Elizabeth Taylor. That's the kind of analysis you'll find every week on Dear Movies I Love You, the new podcast from the Exactly Right Network. Every Tuesday, we break down the films we're crushing on, from blockbusters to deep cuts. Listen to Dear Movies I Love You on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.