Sightings - Polaroid Ghostwriter: California, 1992

Episode Date: September 30, 2024

We’ve all heard the saying “a picture is worth a thousand words.” But can a simple photograph also become a supernatural bridge between this world and the next? Join two roommates in 1992 Los Angeles as they realize their polaroid camera might be a conduit for a ghostly houseguest. Sightings is a REVERB and QCODE Original. Find us on instagram @sightingspod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You've probably heard the famous saying, a picture is worth a thousand words. But what happens when your camera's photos begin to reveal more than you bargained for? What happens when they show you something else altogether? Something terrifying. Welcome to Sightings, the series that takes you inside the world's most mysterious supernatural events. I'm McLeod. And I'm Brian. And today, we're diving into the most unusual ghost story we've ever encountered. That's right. We're heading to Los Angeles in 1992, where two roommates come to

realize not only that they have an unexpected house guest, but that he happens to have an unusual affinity for photography. One that will change the roommates' lives forever. Find out how on this episode of Sightings. This is a ghost story, but not the kind you'd expect. Yeah, sure, it's spooky, it's mysterious, it's unusual, but most importantly, it's got one thing that sets it apart from every other ghost story you've probably ever heard or will ever hear again. And that's that every word of this one is true. My name's John Townsley, and a little while back, I found this house in the hills outside Los Angeles

in an up-and-coming neighborhood called Mount Washington. It was a nice place with good bones, even if it's kind of old and sits elevated from the road with far too many steps for any rational person to walk every day. But I loved it and took it at first blush, even if I couldn't really afford it. So, naturally, I turned to Kurt. He'd gone to art school with me, was also freelancing and was looking to cut costs. And since I knew we'd hit it off, he seemed like the perfect roommate match. Of course, we had no idea that there would be a third roommate in that house with us as well.

But trust me, I'll get there. The first few months after moving in went by perfectly uneventfully. Kurt and I spent our days building out our portfolios and nights bitching about trying to make it in this town. And yeah, there was probably one too many Vodka Sprites thrown in for good measure. It was LA, after all. Then a few months in, I first started to notice it. A strange tingling feeling, almost like you get when you catch a mild sunburn, tingling feeling, almost like you get when you catch a mild sunburn, would flash across my body at the most random times. And then after that got my attention, I would notice the shadows. They were like free-floating masses moving across the floor or desk or wall. And I was never quite

sure what it was, because every time I tried to find some logical explanation, I came up short. Then, one night when I was alone in the house, the noises started. Strange, untraceable bumps and groans, stuff like that. Then I felt someone tapping my shoulder when I was sitting at my desk and just about jumped out of my skin. Because Kurt was at a gig, and I was alone in the house. Or was I? Naturally, my initial thought was that I was just going stir-crazy because my house couldn't be haunted, could it? I mean, I was a creative and all, but not one of those kooky, hand-waving, crystal-wielding mystics, you know, the Los Feliz types. So I simply chalked everything up to tricks of the eye or old house drafts and called it a night. Then a few days later, Kurt told me he was experiencing strange things too.

And we began to realize, shit, something might actually be happening here. Like, something, something, you know? So, we decided to find some proof. And, you know, proof, maybe that sounds naive because who actually finds physical evidence that their house is haunted? I mean, have you ever seen definitive proof of the supernatural anywhere from anyone? Neither we. But, I did say this story wasn't like other ghost stories, didn't I? So buckle up. For Christmas, my father sent me a Polaroid SX-70 Spectra camera. Being a photographer and all, I loved the immediacy of the Polaroid medium, you know?

Just point, click, wait a minute, and you had a finished image. Plus, it was just a cool thing to have at parties, so I figured, what better to use to try to catch something supernatural on film? So I began keeping the camera at my side whenever I was in the house, and whenever I'd feel that familiar sunburn-like tingle or thought I saw a shadow, I'd snap a picture or two. sunburn-like tingle or thought I saw a shadow, I'd snap a picture or two. Problem was, all I'd end up with was normal-looking shadows, which fell far short of the proof threshold I'd set for us. Then I caught something entirely unexpected, and it scared the hell out of me. It happened on an otherwise normal day, all things considered. I was working at my desk and kept noticing that the bathroom door in the hallway outside was open, even though I knew I'd closed it.

So I decided to close the door again and wait in the hallway to see what happened. Then all of a sudden I felt that familiar tingle, so I snapped a picture. And of course there was nothing there. Honestly, I felt like an idiot right then, thinking I'd actually catch anything. So I went back to work. But I couldn't help keeping one eye on that door. And sure enough, about an hour later, I felt that tingling again. And as soon as I caught movement out of the corner of my eye,

I realized the door was moving, like opening on its own, right in front of me, and it all felt so deliberate, so demonstrative, that I started shaking, so much so that I could barely manage to even snap a picture. But I did, and as soon as the flash lit up the hallway, the door stopped moving, and that tingling sensation vanished. So all I could do was sit there and wait, trying to calm down as an image slowly resolved on that tiny piece of square film. The first thing I noticed was a wispy shape coming into focus, and I thought I was looking at some kind of joke,

because as the image sharpened, the outline of a stereotypical ghost filled the center of the frame. You know, the floating sheet kind with two big eye holes and a gaping mouth hole, like Casper or something, staring into the camera and going, Boo! Surely someone was playing a prank on me and had messed with the unexposed image, so I took another picture, and this time I got a similar image, but it looked like the ghost had moved even closer to me. Unnerved, I set the camera aside and waited on the front porch for Kurt to get home, and after he trudged up those endless stairs, I showed him the photos, and he stared at them with amazement, thinking that I'd pulled off some kind of cool photographic trick. He even wanted to know how I did it. Of course, I'd done nothing more than click the shutter and told him as much. But he didn't believe me in the least and marched me over to the bathroom door

and took a picture of me. But as the image resolved, his jaw dropped. Because hovering right above me was that same wispy, ghostly shape. Kurt immediately suspected I'd messed with the film and resolved to go out and buy a fresh pack to prove this was nothing more than a camera trick. So I went with him. We got a brand new pack of Spectra film from the Photoshop, and as soon as we got home and took another picture, snap. A sheet-like ghost consumed the frame. Snap. A sheet-like ghost consumed the frame.

The night after those first inexplicable photos were taken, we had a group of friends over for an impromptu party. I had no intention of bringing up the Polaroid hoopla, afraid that people would think we were quacks, but Kurt was never as inhibited as I and spilled the beans as soon as everyone was settled in. Of course, people laughed and asked wild questions and thought the photos we'd already taken were a neat trick, but I don't think anyone actually believed us. Then our friend Ross decided to pick up the camera himself. Hoping to get in on the fun, he shouted into the room, Are you here, ghost? and clicked the shutter. As the film ejected from the camera, we all gathered around waiting for the image to resolve. And as soon as I realized there was no ghostly shape

like we'd seen before, I started to turn away. Then someone gasped and another uttered, oh my god, I think that's a word. So I turned back and grabbed the photo and sure enough, word. So I turned back and grabbed the photo and sure enough, three barely discernible, cloudy white letters appeared on the image. Y. E. S. Yes. As in yes, the ghost was with us. But I mean, it couldn't work that way, could it? Ghosts don't communicate by writing on film. Or do they? Before I could fully wrap my head around what was happening, someone else grabbed the camera, asked, are you a good ghost or a bad ghost? And snapped a picture. Again, everyone crowded around the fresh square of developing film, and before I could even get close enough to see anything, I heard another round of gasps. Sure enough,

another word had appeared in the center of the developing frame as if written in clouds and light. F-R-I-E-N-D. Friend. As in, we had a happy ghost. Wonderful. Ross grabbed the camera again, asked what the ghost's name was, and snapped a picture. And again, letters appeared on the developing image, superimposed over the people and furniture in the shot. W-R-I-G-H-T. Write the ghost. The ghost who could write. W-R-I-G-H-T. Write the ghost.

The ghost who could write. Of course, no one at the party could quite believe what was happening. Some laughed it off as a wicked joke. Others examined the camera and film, thinking it was some kind of technological trickery just as Kurt and I had. Someone even offered a foolproof explanation for what was happening. Apparently, pushing a ballpoint pen to the back of an unexposed Polaroid will make a message appear when the photo develops. But we tried that, and it looked nothing like the ephemeral, cloud-like writing we'd already seen.

So since no one could find any rational explanation for the images, people finally began to believe the obvious. That this was really happening. That we had a real ghost. And that it was actively trying to communicate with us. Eventually, everyone left the party and went home for the night. But Kurt and I stayed up and asked more questions into the void, snapping photos after each one. We hoped for more writing, more answers, more anything. But nothing happened. That led us to believe that perhaps someone at the party was behind the writing after all.

But even so, that wouldn't explain the ghostly shapes we'd seen on the images the day before. Exhausted and dejected, we decided to finally turn in for the night. But as soon as I stepped into my bedroom, I felt that strange tingling sensation again. So I called for Kurt, and we asked Wright if he was with us again before snapping another picture. Sure enough, two words appeared on the developing image. Ita vero. Ita vero? I knew enough Spanish to know it wasn't bad. Maybe it was Italian? But before I could even consider other options, Kurt jumped in. It's Latin, he said, and ran back to his room. When he returned, he held a small Latin dictionary he'd kept since high school.

Ita vero, he said, means truly so. Bristling with excitement, we tried to figure out what to ask next, until Kurt blurted out a question. Right. Are you you dead the camera flash nearly blinded me as he took another picture we both huddled over the exposed film as more latin words appeared kurt looked it up and it said not all of me will die i immediately asked a follow-up why latin and snapped another picture But nothing materialized on the photo. Undeterred, Kurt took the camera and asked, Did you die in this house?

As the camera flashed, I cringed. I really didn't want to know if Wright died in this house, and wasn't keen on reminding him of that fact if he had. But it was too late. The words took shape on the Polaroid. Et alia corpus delicti. I asked Kirk what it meant, but some of his dictionary pages were sticking. Finally, Kirk got it unstuck and stared at the definition dumbfounded.

Et alia corpus delicti meant, among other things, a murder victim. We didn't hear from Wright anymore that night. As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, all I could do was wonder if Wright had died or, you know, been killed. All I could do was wonder if Wright had died or, you know, been killed. In the very room I was in. Wright remained silent for another few weeks. We tried, of course, to communicate with him, but he was never there. Or perhaps he just didn't feel like talking.

Then one night, completely out of the blue, I felt that tingly sunburn feeling again. As soon as I noticed it, I called for Kurt, grabbed the camera, and asked the room, Right, are you here? The film captured only a vague white wisp that was much less formed than his previous attempts at contact. So Kurt decided to ask the next question. Right, why won't you communicate with us? And shot another picture. Letters slowly formed. W.

E. A. K. Week. In a weird way, I felt bad for the ghost. But what could we possibly do for him? We didn't even know why he was there. But we could find out, couldn't we?

I grabbed the camera again, asked, Right? Why are you here? And watched as wispy letters formed on the Polaroid that emerged from the camera. Here. For you. That sent chills down my spine, and it clearly unnerved Kurt as well. Was Wright here for us to, I don't know, possess us? Or consume our souls? Or was he here for some benevolent reason, like to watch over us?

My gut said it was the latter, but there was no way of knowing for sure. And then Kurt offered an alternative theory. What if he's here because he needs our help? I mean, look at what he's saying. He's weak. He's reaching out. He needs us, man. We spent the next few days researching the previous owners of the house. The place was built in 1906, and we found ownership records for the land dating all the way back to 1848. But there was no indication that anyone had died there, let alone been murdered there, so we did the next thing any rational person with a haunted house would do.

We brought in a psychic. He was an ancient-looking fellow who'd been referred to us by a friend of a friend, and with his silvery hair and impossibly deep, world-weary eyes, he certainly looked like he'd been doing this forever. But the moment he heard our story, he immediately suspected that our entire situation was an elaborate hoax. Never, he said, had he seen an entity, quote, present itself in this fashion. But his demeanor changed as soon as he stepped inside. His eyes darkened somehow.

His brow furrowed. I even noticed his hand twitching. Interesting, he said, as if that was supposed to mean anything at all to us. We explained how the Polaroid worked and offered to demonstrate for him, but he insisted that he do it himself and with a fresh pack of sealed film he'd brought specifically for the occasion. So, loading the camera and taking in the room, he called out softly, Right. I'd like to ask you some questions. Can you tell me where you are right now? Snap.

The camera flashed. Kurt and I leaned in to look at the photo, but the psychic swatted us away. So we stood there, silent, as he waited for the image to develop, then showed us the wispy words that read, Far from this place. The psychic then asked the room,

Can you show us what you look like? and snapped another picture. This time, two words appeared in the photo frame. Not ready. appeared in the photo frame. Not ready. Quietly, I wondered if Wright himself wasn't ready to show us, or if he thought we weren't ready to see him. But I didn't dare speak. I just followed Kurt and the psychic as he moved through the house, asked more questions, and snapped more photos. through the house, asked more questions, and snapped more photos. Then, near the bathroom door, he suddenly halted. It was the same door that had opened in front of me when all of this first started, and clearly the location was somehow significant to the psychic. Closing his eyes and

furrowing his brows with concentration, he insisted that this was the spot where the spiritual presence was strongest. It was like a vortex, he said, and it was vibrating across his entire body. Then he held a handout, as if weighing the air in his palm, and declared that he was sensing a name. Gilbert, he said. Opening his eyes, he asked us if the name meant anything to us. I immediately began to answer no, but Kurt stopped me. Pulling the list of past homeowners from his pocket, he pointed to a Gilbert who owned this house decades ago.

We hadn't even shown the list to the psychic yet, so had he really just plucked that name from nowhere? And if so, could Gilbert actually be right, the ghost? My mind flooded with questions, but my thought process was interrupted when the psychic said the vortex was intensifying. And he began to visibly tremble, and I began to feel that same familiar tingling sensation. Take a photo now, he shouted, so I quickly grabbed the camera and I snapped the photo of him. photo now!" he shouted, so I quickly grabbed the camera and snapped the photo over. Then just as suddenly as he'd begun trembling, the psychic fell still. Simultaneously, I felt the tingling sensation recede from my own body. He's gone, the psychic said.

It's gone. We soon found ourselves on the couch in the living room, waiting for the last photo to finish developing. And indeed, a wispy, ghost-like shape appeared in the frame directly above the psychic. He stared intently at the image, then finally spoke. These photos are the spirit's way of saying, pay attention. Kurt asked if that meant Wright wanted us to do something, if he needed something from us. And what about the name Gilbert that the psychic had mentioned? It's possible, the psychic said, that Wright and Gilbert are one and the same.

And given that his presence is so strong, he may very well still be here. Physically, I mean. Physically how, I asked. The psychic stood and said, A body, a physical one, may still remain on this property. Hidden, or perhaps buried. Do with that as you will, the psychic said, then quietly left. That night, as I struggled to fall asleep, I heard movement outside my window.

Tensing up, I reached for the window blinds. I held my breath as I opened them, and I deflated when I realized it was only Kurt. I stepped outside to find him setting up an old lantern, and when I saw the pair of shovels sitting beside him, I realized what he was up to. He was planning to dig for a body. Of course, I thought that went too far, and I said as much, but Kurt insisted that if we had an opportunity to put right at peace, we had to take it. And that I couldn't argue with. So I picked up a shovel and started to dig.

Within a few hours, our backyard looked like the surface of the moon, pockmarked with holes. I worried we were running out of places to dig aside from excavating under the house itself and told Kurt we ought to give up for the night. But Kurt wanted just a few more minutes and plunged his shovel back into the earth. This time, his shovel clanged as it hit something solid. For Wright's sake, I don't think it's appropriate to describe what we found buried underground, other than to say that it caused us to rush inside and try to contact him. Almost immediately, I felt that familiar tingle and knew he was with us, so we told him what we'd found.

And as we did, I felt that tingling grow more intense, did, I felt that tingling grow more intense, from a mild sunburn to a pulsing buzz that consumed my entire body. I told Kurt, take a photo, take a photo now, and the moment the flash lit up the room, the lights in the house began to flicker, and the tingling became even more intense. It was like I was on fire until I worried I couldn't bear it anymore, and then, boom, until I worried I couldn't bear it anymore. Then, boom! Everything stopped. The lights returned to normal,

and the tingling receded like a distant memory. Kurt held up the photo he'd taken, and I saw the wispy words in the center of the frame. All is over now. That's it? That's the last message that Wright would send us. It's also the last time I'd feel that tingling, or notice shadows on the wall, or hear strange sounds in the house. And honestly, that's left me feeling a little lonely. I'd grown to like our third roommate, or I'd at least found some sense of comfort in knowing he was there.

But I'd like to think he's in a better place now. Maybe all he needed was a little help, and was reaching out from beyond in the only way he knew how. I'm just glad that we were listening, and were able to help bring him some sense of closure. that we were listening and were able to help bring him some sense of closure. So for the time being, that's the end of our spooky and mysterious and once-in-a-lifetime ghost story. But I still keep my Polaroid Spectra SX-70 on my desk. No, just in case. Sightings will be back just after this. Okay, welcome back to Sightings, where I start being McCloud and stop being the characters in these stories. And we're about to dig in to the story you just heard.

We're going to talk about what's real, what's not, what's believable, what we believe or don't. And to help me do that, I'm here with my co-host, Brian, who wrote that story. Yeah, I'm really excited to pick this one apart. As am I. Let's do it. Now, one of the things I love most about this story is it bucks the trend of the normal haunting story of, you know, some aggressive, aggrieved ghost with an axe to grind that's trying to kill you, hurt you, or make your life miserable. This one, we got a friendly ghost. We got a Casper. We do. We got Casper. And he speaks Latin.

Right? We've got an educated Casper. And maybe that's why this is a supernatural encounter that people are still talking about. It's been 30 years since this happened. And it's cool because it's just so different from the norm. Yeah. And so I want to know what's real about this and what's not, what you kind of added for some poetic license.

Because I don't know. I took it all at face value. If anything, it felt like all the pieces lined up into too clean a narrative for it possibly to all be real. But I don't know. Well, just like last week's episode, this story pretty much followed the known account of what happened in this encounter. Wow. I only made a few changes for clarity, mainly.

For instance, it wasn't John and Kurt who lived in the house. It was John Huckert and John Mikowski. You didn't keep them Johns? No. That's better. I love just a couple of Johns jawning around with their ghost friend. But no, it might have gotten confusing.

It would have, I think. I also compressed the timeline a bit because in reality, the actual events here took place over a much longer period of time than a few weeks. It took place over months and years. Years. I guess the biggest heavy lifting that I did, and it wasn't really that heavy lifting, was I dramatized the ending just a bit. All the same messages happened. I'm just not sure whether any messages happened after they started digging in their yard. I also don't know actually whether they found anything in their yard or not.

What? Okay, that was a huge, huge detail because a body, in terms of my believability of this, a body is irrefutable proof. So the fact that that's not in there, okay, all right, that colors my feelings. Poor guy. He's just trying to say hi, you know, a whole bunch of times in Latin and English. Hi. But, you know, I kind of wanted to give him a nice resolution and kind of wrap things up a little bit. Well, that's kind of you. But aside from that, everything else in the story, you know, the messages themselves, the kooky psychic, that's all what was reported as having happened.

And that's what made the story so cool to me is because this is such a kind of weird, unique take on a haunted house story. It's more fun and mysterious than anything. Yeah, I've never heard of the ghost writing before. This is the first time I've heard of ghosts writing with their, I don't know, ghostly energy. Ghost fingers. Ghost fingers.

It sounds delicious, actually. But, I mean, I have heard of other ghosts of photographs before, but usually it's described as like a floating orb of white light, like hanging out by somebody. I think I heard something about there being a photo of a ghost Abe Lincoln. There was. There was? Yeah, the famous Lincoln photograph.

Let me pull that up for you. Okay. Yeah, this photo, it's Mary Todd Lincoln, his widow, and Abraham Lincoln's kind of standing behind her, but he's weird and ghostly, and it's kind of creepy. Yeah, he's like a translucent, washed-out, white image of Abe, but, like, detailed. Yeah, you can see his hairline and his beard and his eyebrows and...

Ear, his big old ear. All the things. All the things. I don't know. If you want to see this for yourselves, listeners, check out our socials at SightingsPod. We'll put this image plus all the other things we're going to talk about in this episode up there for you. But yeah, this picture was taken in 1872, and it is now regarded as one of the most famous hoaxes of the 19th century. I'm not terribly surprised.

It does look a little... Hoaxy. Hokey. Yeah, you know, the same thing applies to pretty much all the other ghost photographs that have come since then. Pretty much all of them have been ruled out as hoaxes. But not this one? Not right, the ghost? Not yet. Not at least. It's been 30 years, and no one has definitively said this was a hoax. So how many pictures were there in this one? Like a dozen pictures? There were over 1,000 pictures taken with writing on them.

So 1,000 photos of this ghost. This is a very active ghost. Are we supposed to believe that this ghost was just sitting there chit-chatting over 1,000 photos with these guys? Well, that's for you to decide, you know, whether this was true or not. So let's kind of dig into what the known account of this was. Okay, right. So you have two guys, John and John. Yeah, and they moved in this bungalow in Mount Washington, which is a hilly neighborhood north of downtown LA. You live in LA, McLeod. Have you been there? I haven't. Oh, well. Or at least not knowingly so. Haven't been to that part of Kentucky. Haven't been to downtown.

I've been nowhere. I'm of no use to this podcast. We were also five or six when this happened. And this was in March of 1982. 1992, I'm sorry. That they first captured that image of that stereotypical kind of Casper ghost. Right.

And again, this photo's gonna be on our socials, but this is what it looked like, McCloud. Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me? Like, it looks like Fozzie Bear got squished against a window, and, but only left, like, a white afterimage with his little eyes

and that one big mouth. It's kind of silly looking. It is. And they had a few months of, you know, just capturing weird shapes like that, you know, and getting their tingling feeling and all those kind of things. And then June, you know, some three months later, at a party with their friends,

just like it happened in the story, they start capturing this ghost writing. And that looks a little bit different. Okay, I've got these images. We've got a living room, kind of 70s looking living room, really intimate, nice color schemes here. Looks cozy and comfortable. Some shenanigans could be up. But anyway, the important part, the writing, there's, it looks like there's this superimposed white writing over it. And the first one here where he just writes, right, it looks like clouds or vapor almost,

or like stretched cotton maybe. It's kind of weird and wispy. Wispy, yeah. In this other photo though, and this one says, what does this one say? This is the et alia corpus delicti photo. Okay. That was in the story.

Among other things. A murder victim. A murder victim. Yeah. And what's kind of neat about this one is there are two people in the picture and the writing is kind of superimposed over them as they're holding video cameras to their face, presumably filming this happening in real time. Right. But I have to say that the fact that it's superimposed over them as opposed to, I don't know, interacting more within the environment kind of raises alarms for me because it seems more possible to pull off a hoax or to doctor the photos in some way if it's just flat 2D on the photo but not in the space, if you know what I mean. Yeah, yeah. I mean, we should be clear that these words kind of take up the whole width of the frame, but they kind of just do look like they've been laid on top of the image, almost. What do

you think about the actual font, though? Creepy. It's super creepy. creepy yeah it doesn't feel like casper writing you know so i wonder i mean but i guess he's even though he's friendly or doesn't bear them any ill will he's clearly suffering i mean it has this tortured quality like it looks in the first one where he just writes his name like somebody who's struggling to control their arm and putting all of the energy they possibly can to generate the shape of letters but then in the second one it's very controlled very precise if and the tension or scariness in it it looks like someone like carved it almost it's like these deep like corpus like very determined looking yeah they they look to me almost like the kind of font

you would see on a movie poster for a horror movie. Yeah, it does. So were these guys just freaked out of their minds or were they just like, cool? Well, I think what was in the story is I tried to hew towards what the guys reported actually feeling in the moment. Me personally, I would not have been just hanging around taking lots of photos. I, would you really keep messing around with this? Or were you trying to create this?

Yeah, I think it is a big question now, even now, whether these photographs are hoaxes or not. And would a ghost really decide to write in different fonts or in different languages? Languages, exactly. And why would they even be communicating on photos to begin with? Right. So which begs the question of like, can we dig deeper into the Johns? Yeah, yeah. There's a lot of stuff that happened after the story would have ended that illuminates them a little bit more for us.

For example, they've done a good amount of interviews and have said, quote, we aren't out to make anyone believe anything. And quote, we're not trying to make a buck off of this. However, they did make a book. Oh, of course they did. And I don't know if they actually published the book, but a book was published that compiled a lot of their photos and kind of told the general, it's kind of a coffee table book. Gotcha. And that book also was promoted at a gallery event that displayed all of the photos in Los Angeles where people could go and see them. From what I've uncovered, it looks like the gallery is a free place to visit.

But I think it just illuminates the point that these guys were not shy about publicity. Right. Right. Which, to be fair to them, if this really happened, I need to let the world know. This is incredible. This is astounding. That's valid, too. I would probably do the same thing, I think. But also, we publicize when we have something to sell. Very true. And we can't forget that these guys were starving artists and writers.

Exactly. And this seems to be the kind of thing that's right up their alley. And so, I mean, do we have any specialists who've looked at it? No one's been able to debunk the photos that these creative types suddenly released a coffee table book of? There hasn't been a definitive debunk of it yet. There seem to have been a lot of attempts. The biggest one seems to have been on a television show in 1993. They sent an entire crew down to the house to examine the house and take some photos and things like that.

Are we talking like a 60 Minutes or like a Ghost Hunter type show? It was a supernatural kind of show. Supernatural type of show that has a vested interest in keeping you wondering because if they just like got to the bottom of it, we're like, yeah, this isn't real. You'd stop watching. Exactly. So I don't think this was the pinnacle of journalism necessarily. But in this case, they brought a psychic in. They in photography experts is this the psychic in the story this is the

psychic in the story um he came in with the tv i left the tv show out of the story however when the camera crew was there and they brought in film direct from polaroid they brought in four polaroid cameras that were not touched by the johns uh and they started asking questions you know out into the void and shooting photos. And would you guess what happened? There was more writing. They got it live on camera where the entire process from loading the camera, unwrapping the brand new sealed film, putting in the camera.

With no cuts? With no cuts. And watching the film spit out with a response to what they said. And all of that happened on TV, basically. Okay. I'm impressed. I still think there's probably a way you could either, by blobbing stuff onto the actual lens of the camera, maybe. But I don't know.

That is a little bit of a stumper. That's creepy. And they had this special effects expert from the Brooks Institute of Photography take But I don't know. That is a little bit of a stumper. That's creepy. And they had this special effects expert from the Brooks Institute of Photography take all of the photos that they took back to his lab to evaluate them, figure out what was happening. And he was able to figure out a way to replicate the phenomenon. He was. Okay. But the problem with this was that this process from start to finish in a controlled lab took an hour to complete. And if we're to believe the stories of the Johns and this television show, you know, these photos are popping left and right out of these Polaroid cameras with different writing on different frames that seemed to be wildly complicated if you wanted to orchestrate a hoax like that.

People have always had a lot of time on their hands in the history of the world. But yes, good point. But what do you think? I mean, you sounded a little bit skeptical from the get-go about this one. Give me a temperature check. Where are you right now? Skeptical from the get-go about this one. Give me a temperature check. Where are you right now on this? Skeptical from the get-go. This skeptical gecko.

I'm a skeptical gecko. We are going to make that the show's mascot and put that on some t-shirts, I think. Perfect. Skeptical gecko. Skeptical gecko. So give me your skeptical gecko read. I think there's motive. There are creative types.

I mean, if there is no guarantee of money at the other end, both the TV show and the Johns probably would want to pursue just the joy of creating this story. I think the amount of time that it took for them to put these together speaks to me about them working on it and developing this technology for creating this hoax. It's also they live in LA, I think, you know, I live in LA and you bump into and become friends with like people in various aspects of the industry. So stands reason that the Johns maybe knew the producer of this TV show and kind of colluded

from the beginning on like, hey, I've got a great idea for a show. We've been messing around with this stuff for fun, but it's actually working and it's super creepy. I admit it's a lot to coordinate. Yeah, yeah. Anyway, that's my final take on the matter. But we want to hear from you, our listeners. Hit us up on our socials at SightingsPod

or email us at theories at sightingspodcast.com. Let us know what you think the truth of this matter is. With that said, Brian, can you tell us where we're heading for next week's story? Next week, we are heading to a dark and dismal swamp. Ooh, I'm thinking bayous. I'm thinking creole. I'm thinking voodoo. Good guess.

I'll give you one more hint. It's a monster story. Swamp monster. Okay. I guess I'll just have to wait till next week. That's right. Same place, same time, next week. See y'all then on Sightings.

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