Sightings - Roland Doe Exorcism: Missouri, 1949

Episode Date: October 21, 2024

What do a Ouija board, a pair of priests, and one really messed up teenager have in common? They’re all at the heart of the shocking story that inspired the biggest horror movie of all time: The Exorcist. So venture with us to a quiet house in St. Louis, where one boy’s soul is about to become a battleground between good and evil. Sightings is a REVERB and QCODE Original. Find us on instagram @sightingspod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Some say the veil between this world and the next is thinnest in the dead of night. But what happens when darkness breaches that barrier and torments the innocent, twisting them into something unimaginable? How far would you go to drive it back? 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 taking you inside the story that inspired the biggest horror movie of all time, The Exorcist. So grab a crucifix and journey back with us to 1949, where a young boy's soul becomes a battleground of unspeakable horrors.

And as the boundaries between good and evil begin to crumble, who will emerge victorious? Find out on this episode of Sightings. My name's Carl Doe, and I suppose you're here because you want the goods on my son Roland. It's okay, you can admit it, because that's human nature, I suppose. To try and understand, you know, the impossible. Or in this particular case, the decidedly possible. Because this happened. Sure as anything, even though no one should have to go through what my boy did, ever.

And now, what with all the rumors and lies and speculations, I feel obligated to set the record straight. Because that's what fathers do. Protect their children at all costs. Even if it's from Satan himself. I suspect a statement like that makes me sound a bit fanatical, and I assure you I am not.

In fact, until just a few months ago, I was barely even religious. More, uh, five bucks in the collection, pot at Easter, and my soul is saved for another year kind of guy. Because I don't think I ever actually believed it, you know. Not most of it, at least. But much can change in just a few months. So, let me take you back to the beginning. To that January day that I'll remember for a whole mess of reasons, least of which was my driving home a brand new Cherry Red Mercury 8. Real looker that car was.

But as I pulled into the driveway, eager to show it off to Phyllis and Roland, well, everything went right downhill from there. Phyllis was on the front porch with the tissue in hand and makeup running all over, and as soon as I stepped out of the car, she pulled me into a hug and told me my sister Harriet had passed away, and she was so, so sorry. Now, I'm usually a pretty stoic man, but it hurt, that news did. Like a punch to the gut. Harriet was close to all of us, especially Roland, and I immediately worried how my boy would react to the news. I found him upstairs in his bedroom, hunched over something on the floor. For 13 he was fairly slight, so I could immediately see it was a Ouija board. I'm not much of a fan of those things,

but right then in that bedroom all I saw was a devastated kid holding on to his one last connection to his dead aunt. Harriet was something of a spiritualist, see, and Roland always had his head in the clouds, so it was a perfect fun activity for them. But that afternoon Roland was muttering something quietly to himself as he moved the, what do you call it, the planchette? Planchette? Well, he was moving it slowly around the board from letter to letter, seemingly spelling out gibberish, and lord knows I should have stopped him, but I just set a hand on his shoulder and told him I was there if he needed me, then left him alone with the thing again. Biggest mistake of my life, I swear it. That night, the scratching began. It was coming

from Roland's bedroom under the bed, it seemed, but there was nothing there but old socks and dust bunnies. But the sound was unmistakable, like claws scraping across wood. Thinking it was rats or something similar, I even pulled up a few floorboards, but I found nothing at all. Seven nights later, it was still happening. Roland frankly didn't seem bothered in the least by it, until late one night he woke us up to say he heard the sound of feet marching alongside his bed. night he woke us up to say he heard the sound of feet marching alongside his bed. So concerned about the unusual timing of everything, Phyllis marched into Roland's room and talked at the ceiling, is that you, Harriet? If that's you, knock three times. But instead of knocking, the mattress began to shake, gently at first, then violently. I'm sure it's pretty obvious at this point, but this was no

Aunt Harriet. A few days later, Roland began getting into trouble in school. His teacher said his desk kept toppling over and sliding across the floor, but Roland insisted he didn't cause it. Instead, he said it glided on its own, like the planchette on his Ouija board. I of course confiscated the game from him at that point, but things didn't stop there, because the very next day I saw the kitchen table tip over while he was standing nearby. Then I watched a Bible fly across the room and land at Roland's feet. Something was clearly happening to my boy, but what? At first I tried to write it all off as mischief. He was 13 after all.

But as unexplained incidents continued, we struggled to keep up a sense of normalcy, and Phyllis finally reached a breaking point. So she took Roland to a physician, psychologist, psychic, all the Ps. And each of them, even the psychic, looked at us like we were crazy. So we went to the last P we hadn't tried yet, a priest. Father Schultz from the Lutheran church around the corner was a nice man and all, but clearly wasn't prepared for what we were about to burden him with. Even after coming to our home and witnessing furniture move on its own, he chalked it up to a clever prank by my boy.

But after Roland went to bed and we kept talking with Father Schultz in the living room, we heard blood-curdling screams erupt from upstairs. And when we ran up to Roland's room, we found him cursing on his bed, shouting obscenities I dare not repeat here, as his bed shook like crazy. Father Schultz tried to pray beside Roland, but as the boy kept thrashing, we saw scratches appear on his arms shook like crazy. Father Schultz tried to pray beside Roland, but as the boy kept thrashing, we saw scratches appear on his arms and shins. I know all of it was impossible, but there it was. Later, Phyllis asked Father Schultz if this might be some kind of spiritual incursion, be it by Aunt Harriet or some other lost soul or... something worse. But Schultz, being a Protestant, had no knowledge of the topic and said that even if he did, his church had no way of dealing with it.

So gathering his things and preparing to never come back, he told us to see a Catholic priest. Because Catholics, you see, specialized in horrors just like this. The next day, I contacted the Jesuits and was connected to Raymond Bishop, a 43-year-old who seemed to work in education for the church. And while I'd have preferred an actual priest, at that point I'd take anything I could get. So that night, Bishop visited our home, met Roland, asked questions, and blessed each room.

He even attached a relic to Roland's bed pillow with a safety pin. Part of me wondered if he was just going through the motions, thinking us nothing more than a family of lunatics. But when Roland started screaming and his bed began thumping uncontrollably, Bishop quickly changed his tune. And when he saw scratches materialize on Roland's forearm in the shape of a cross, he realized he was dealing with something a bit more tangible here than a family gripped by paranoia. It was a case of demonic possession. The next night, Bishop returned with Father William Bodern,

an older man who smoked camels incessantly. Unlike Bishop, Bodern was an active pastor and had been appointed as exorcist in our case. The pair immediately set about sprinkling holy water throughout the house and praying over Roland. As they did, the mattress began shaking as usual, but this time, Roland was oddly still, as if in some kind of trance. And... Well, it was tough to watch. All Phyllis and I could do was stand to the side as these men kept chanting Latin over him, a non-stop recitation of Dominuses and Precipios. I had no idea what any of it meant, of course, but I'd soon later gather bits and pieces,

the Lord Deliverums, and the I Command These. But from where I stood right then, it didn't seem to be helping in the least, as my boy kept screaming, and deep, red, painful-looking welts boiled up on his stomach. But the men carried on praying and blessing, and once Roland began thrashing, Bishop and I struggled to hold him down. Bodurn commanded the demon to identify himself. In the image of a devil, I swear it, a fully formed devil with webbed hands and a horned head, etched itself in deep red on my son's calf. Soon after that, the letters H-E-L-L appeared across his chest.

And as Roland kept thrashing, the men kept praying, and I felt powerless to do anything except hold my boy down and hope it all ended soon. This pattern continued for nearly a week. By day, Roland seemed largely normal, if withdrawn, but by night he fell into an unnatural sleep marked by trances, contortions, and screams of terror. Even stranger, he seemed unaware of what was happening to him, waking each morning as if from a dream state he simply couldn't remember. Bodurn and Bishop, meanwhile, were diligent as ever. Despite each working day jobs, they arrived at our home each night just as Roland was going to bed, and once he began thrashing, they held back the devil as I tried to hold onto my son.

It must have been the sixth or seventh night of the exorcism when something began to change. We were all exhausted, of course, as Roland was keeping us up well into the early mornings. But on this night, the thrashing started earlier and advanced more quickly. Roland began spitting copious globs of the stuff. The men fought back with holy water until the bed was soaked, shouting, Be gone now, in Latin, with each new dousing. And this time, it seemed to work, at least for a moment, because my boy suddenly went calm. Then, drenched in holy water, he assumed what I can only call a prayerful pose and began to chant Our Lady of Fatima, pray for us, followed by the words to the Hail Mary.

The gesture caught us completely by surprise and we all watched, spellbound, as he continued in raptured prayer. Then suddenly he stopped. His body twisted awfully and he screamed louder than I thought even possible. Writhing in agony, he looked as though he was trying to vomit. Like he wanted to vomit and I realized he was trying to purge the thing from his body. I instinctively reached to comfort him, to help him, but Bodurn held me back saying this was now my boy's own fight to evict the devil. And indeed, as Roland writhed in agony on the mattress, his gestures gradually moved upwards, as though he was trying to lift the devil from his stomach to his throat.

Then, after what seemed like an interminable stretch of this, he asked me to open a window, and as soon as I did, he said's going he's going and then with a final there he goes my son fell back onto his bed exhausted the exorcism was over it seemed but it couldn't be that easy could it no it couldn't and it wasn't because the battle for my son's soul had only just begun. The day after the demon allegedly left my son's body, Roland seemed lighter than usual. Easier, almost.

He even played Monopoly with Phyllis and I that evening, and I began to hope that this ordeal was good and done. But as soon as night fell, everything changed. Roland began screaming from his bedroom, and Phyllis and I rushed up to find him clutching his stomach in pain and shouting, he's back, he's back. So we called Bodurn and Bishop, and the pair rushed back to our home to do battle with the devil again. And this time things were far, far more difficult.

As soon as the men entered the room, Roland snapped his teeth and barked like a dog at them. And as the pair began the exorcism ritual yet again, Roland's actions grew only more bizarre. A few minutes into recitation of prayers, I noticed that Roland had wet his pants. And as the puddle beneath him grew, I realized he'd done it copiously. And the urine, it... it didn't smell human, if that makes sense. The stench was overwhelming, and the momentarily lucid boy cried that the liquid was burning him. But the priests did not relent. As Bishop and I held my boy down, Bodurn made the sign of

the cross on Roland's brow and chest. It seemed to calm Roland, and out of nowhere he began to sing. With a voice that didn't even seem to be his, he carried the tune of the Blue Danube. And it was strangely enchanting, but simultaneously terrifying. Soon enough, Roland began to contort again, urinating more and breaking wind loudly. And as he fought to escape our grasp, we fought to simply breathe amid the horrible smells emanating from his slight body. And as I kneeled there, hanging on for dear life, I felt as though I wasn't even holding my son anymore. He'd become something else. Something unspeakable.

And I didn't know how much more he or I or any of us would be able to take. After that horrible night, Bodurn thought it best to move Roland to a local Jesuit hospital, and desperate for just one night's sleep, Phyllis and I agreed. The room he was placed in was spartan, to say the least, with straps on the bed and bars on the windows. But it was safe, and I hoped the change in venue might give Bodurn the upper hand in the battle against... whatever lurked within my son. But Phyllis and I couldn't sleep at all that night. We were too worried about Roland, and just after midnight,

we called the hospital to get a status update. Bishop picked up and said that Roland seemed to be making a remarkable recovery. The possession seemed to be easing its grip, and one night in the hospital, Bishop and Bodurn thought would be enough. But at the risk of sounding like a broken record, it wasn't enough. The devil had simply been toying with us. And once Roland returned home to his own bed, the horror began anew. Amid a torrent of urine and saliva, Bodurn and Bishop kept battling evil. The next night brought more of the same, though Roland now added graphic sexual gestures, such as miming masturbation, to his repertoire of unnatural movements.

Bodern kept repeating the litany of saints and the Lord's Prayer and saying, We cast thee out, as he sprinkled the bed with holy water. But Roland appeared unmoved, shouting, Cut out the damned Latin and get away from me, you goddamn bastards. as he sprinkled the bed with holy water. But Roland appeared unmoved, shouting, Cut out the damned Latin and get away from me, you goddamn bastards! Before finally, mercifully, falling asleep around 2.30 in the morning. Downstairs, in the ensuing silence, I asked Bodarn and Bishop if they honestly thought they were making any progress at all. But I could tell from their exhausted expressions that they had no clear answer for me. Then, finally, Bodurn offered an idea that he

thought might turn the tides of battle in our favor. He wanted to baptize Roland as a Catholic. Phyllis and I talked long and hard about the idea, and the next day discussed it with Roland as well, and though he still seemed to have no true idea what chaos his body was causing at night, he wanted whatever was happening to end once and for all. So plans were made to perform the baptism at Bodern's parish that evening. But once we were all in the car, chaos broke out as Roland suddenly contorted in his seat and screamed, So you think you are going to baptize me? Ha ha. Then he grabbed hold of the wheel and tried to wrest it from my control,

and as Phyllis tried to pry him off me, he grabbed her by the throat. I did all I could to keep the car on the road until we reached the church, where Bodurn and Bishop piled in to pry Roland off of my wife and drag him towards the church. But fearing desecration of the sanctuary, Bodurn directed us to haul Roland up to the rectory, and as the baptism went on, Roland became momentarily lucid and whispered, please, I can't stand it. I'm going crazy. And then finally, mercifully, he fell asleep. Phyllis and I placed great hope, or I guess you could say faith, in Roland's conversion to Catholicism. And indeed, the next day, Roland seemed at least a little bit better. As he tossed a baseball around with me in the yard behind the church's rectory,

I even caught a glimpse of a smile there and knew he still had a chance at happiness. But as he reared back to throw to me, his arm went limp, and the ball fell from his hand. He staggered around for a moment, and I rushed to catch him before he collapsed in the grass. And as I looked at him, at those eyes that suddenly were no longer his, he sneered at me. You will die tonight, he said. All of you will die tonight. Recognizing the situation had grown dire and vowing to expel the demon before the night was done, Bodurn moved Roland back to the secure room in the Jesuit hospital and got to work. But Roland, or the evil within him, wasn't going to

give up without a fight. He cursed and scratched harder than ever and spit so much that the priests struggled to read from their exorcism text amid the onslaught. His shouts and gestures grew filthier and he scowled in a deep, gravelly voice about sexual relations between priests and nuns. He hummed Ave Maria off-key and even spouted facts about the priests' lives he couldn't possibly have known. And despite all this, the priests didn't relent. Bodurn shouted that my boy appeared to be building toward a climax and demanded that the demon leave his body. But the thing within Roland snapped back, I will not go until a certain word is pronounced, and this boy will never say it.

Believing the word in question was communion, Bodern tried to perform Holy Communion with Roland. Holy Communion with Roland. But at the mention of the word, Roland went mad, with scratches slitting his arms and legs and one long scratch in the shape of an arrow forming on his chest and stomach, pointing at his privates. Roland then urinated more, in great pain, and Bodurne said that in some cases the devil exited through urination or defecation. So Bodurne pressed on with trying to give Holy Communion, only to see the word hell bloom in scratches on Roland's chest. Fearing that Roland would never accept the physical wafer of Holy Communion, Bodurne tried spiritual communion. All Roland had to do was want to receive Jesus in communion, and miraculously it would be as if the sacred host had entered his body. Fighting the devil within, Roland managed to say, I want to receive, but he was silenced by pain.

Still, Bodurn pressed on. Just say it. Just say I want to receive you in holy communion. In reply, Roland doubled over and in a vicious voice shouted, I will not permit it. Believing Roland was now in direct combat with evil itself, Bodern and Bishop tag-teamed the boy, shouting at the demon within, we cast thee out, every devilish power, every legion, by the name and power of our Lord Jesus. They forced a crucifix into his hand and placed religious medals around his neck as he continued to writhe. And just as I feared I could no longer hold Roland down, I heard the words escape his lips. I want to receive you in holy communion, he said, before emitting the most

horrifying scream I've ever heard. And then, writhing in pain, a new voice suddenly emitted from my son's throat. A clear, rich, deep voice. Satan. I am Saint Michael and I command you, Satan, to leave the body in the name of Dominus. Now! And then, with one final impossible contortion and unnatural scream, Roland collapsed on the bed. He's gone, Roland said finally. He's gone. That night Roland slept soundly for the first time in weeks, and in the days that followed he slowly returned to normal. He claimed to remember nothing of the ordeal beyond feeling he was trapped in a dream,

and I never pressed him for more details. I was simply glad to have my son home. Of course, word spread about what had happened to my family. Rumors. Lies. Even truths, though Bodurn and the church would never admit it publicly. What happened in those rooms was between us and God, they said. It's now been nearly six months since the horror of that winter.

Roland now attends mass on Sundays, and Phyllis and I even join him. I guess you could say I've become something more than a church at Easter and my soul is saved kind of guy. Because I've looked evil straight in the eye. And I'll do anything it takes to never, ever see it again. Sightings will be back just after this. Welcome back to The Exorcist. Oh, wait, strike that. Welcome back to Sightings. You feeling okay there, McCloud?

No, I'm unsettled. That was an unsettling story. And to think it could have actually happened. Allegedly happened, because this story is definitely kind of a more complicated one than most. Oh, okay. Tell me everything. But just so I can calibrate what I'm about to learn, I need to know, what parts of that story came from your imagination instead of your research? It's a good question, and the answer is not much.

I set all the action in St. Louis when in reality the family lived outside of Washington, D.C., and then they took Roland to Missouri because they had family there. And I had to leave a whole bunch of stuff out, basically, because so much happened in the three months that Roland was possessed. Wait, three months? I can barely make it through two minutes

of an Exorcist movie without freaking out. for the record that they are real people. The only real character change I had to make in the story, though, was with the father, whose character you read. In real life, he seemed like a pretty hands-off guy, and it's not really clear what, if any, direct involvement he had to do with the actual exorcism. Okay, and here I was really feeling for the guy. Which makes sense that you would give him such a strong character because it's, there's no stronger emotional in than that, especially for me. I'm a dad, but I mean, like I have three kids myself and I mean, they have a cold right now, but they're miserable and they keep waking up crying and my heart breaks every time they cough and it's exhausting staying in this extended state of concern. But I mean, really,

it's just a cold snot, like stuffy nose, no feel good data. And I'm broken. I'm not sure how I'd handle, you know, the devil incarnate wreaking havoc upon their souls. I get it. You know, I don't have kids myself, but I really wanted to kind of put myself in that headspace of that uncertainty and terror because it must have been all consuming for this family. Absolutely. I mean, I can only imagine. I mean, I haven't done hospital trips that pales in comparison to three months of extended torment. But anyway, let me make sure I've got my facts straight. This whole thing starts in 1949 when this nice family begins hearing scratching noises in their house. I'm trying to picture this demon being stuck in the wall or something, like just itching to get its claws on this kid. I know, right?

It apparently started in the grandmother's room because she was living with the family at the time. But soon enough, it moved to Roland's room right around the time that Aunt Harriet died. So he inherited it from Aunt Harriet. I see what you did there. And of course, the kid pulls out a Ouija board, which big mistake. Come on, kid. Yep. And then things start moving on their own. And then the scratches start to appear on his body. And they went to a psychiatrist and a psychologist and a physician and a psychic. And they all said, no, nothing's wrong at all. And that seems like a big miss to me. Yeah. Whoops. But so then they get to Bishop and Bodern who decide they can actually do something

about this, right? Almost. So first, because they were living in D.C., they saw a priest there. Well, they saw their Lutheran pastor, and he's like, hell no. You know, go see the Catholics. So then they found another priest in D.C. called Father Hughes. This guy didn't show up in the story, but he admitted Roland to Georgetown Hospital, which is a Jesuit hospital. And on the first night of the exorcism that he attempted, he ended up getting slashed in the arm by this loose bed spring that Roland yanked out of the bed and wielded. Hundred stitches. Roland! A hundred stitches?

Mm-hmm. I have to assume that now, after they realize their child is, you know, a sadistic psychopath, is when they decide to take him to St. Louis? Yeah, they had family there, so they decided that was the place to go. Also, they were prompted by a rationale that I think is not quite believable. Allegedly, the word Louis appeared in scratches on Roland's chest. And the mother, who was vaguely religious, was like, oh, that must mean we're supposed to go to St. Louis. And then the word Saturday appeared in scratches on his leg.

And then they were like, oh, well, I guess we're packing up. OK, sure. Now the skeptic in me is perking up a little bit because this whole thing is going from unsettling to ridiculous. I guess so. But that's what they did. And I guess the other ridiculous part of the story related to scratches is once Bishop and Bodern got to work on their exorcism process with him, you know, this giant X appeared on Roland's leg and the priests instantly thought, allegedly, oh, that must mean that in 10 days the demon will be gone. demons gonna tell you when it's gonna leave it's like hey just wanted to let you know i'm just kind of crashing here for a little bit but like you know i'll clean the place up after i leave you know it's just temporary i'll be out in 10 days i promise i i i hate to ask but is that is that what it actually meant no uh it turns out there were 10 demons inside of Roland. To me, it seems like 10 too many. So, 10 demons.

What a reversal of fate. Oh good, this is all going to be over soon. No, no, no, there's 10 demons inside him. We have 10 times the problem. 10 demons, three months of weird stuff. This is insanity. Yeah, the actual exorcism part. Once Bodern and Bishop, you know, got in the room and started reading the book and doing the, you know, the rosary and all the stuff that goes into an exorcism. 32 days of spitting and cursing and horrible, disgusting stuff. Speaking of spitting, did anyone ever collect this goop and test it for, I don't know, demon DNA?

Demon DNA. I wish they had because that would have been helpful. But no, there's a whole lot of holes in this story. So after 32 days, they just up and left? Yeah. What was it? He said the word communion. And then they're like, oh, man, my safe word. The word in reality was dominus. That was hard to weave into the story. You would have had to explain everybody what Dominus means. Yeah. So regardless of what Roland ended up actually saying, St. Michael shows up apparently and spoke through him and forced the demon out with that, you know,

the line, Satan, Satan, I am St. Michael and I command you, Satan and the other evil spirits to leave the body in the name of Dominus. Which rad i'm a i mean i'm not a religious person uh so i don't believe in demons but i'm a sucker for this kind of story it's dope saint michael with his flaming sword and just it's like so dramatically intense uh but but imagine what people thought in 1949 because this was the first major exorcism to really go public. I mean, this was the story that William Peter Blatty heard when he was a student at Georgetown in 1949. And of course, he went on to write The Exorcist. Right. But I mean, aside from The Exorcist, which seems to be very, very, very loosely inspired by this, Was there any other records or corroboration of any part of this incident?

Like witnesses who saw the scratches or things moving on their own? Hospital records? You know, aside from the family or the priests, there's really no corroborating witnesses for this. There were a few more people that came into the room at some times to hold Roland down and things like that. more people that came into the room at some times to hold Roland down and things like that. But what's mainly known is almost entirely based on a 26-page diary that Bishop kept throughout the experience, which is where the name Roland Doe came from. Ah, I figured Doe was maybe a pseudonym. So Roland wasn't even his name? No. Some later writings called him Robbie. Roland's been the one that kind of sticks.

Oh, some later writings called him Robbie. Roland's been the one that kind of sticks. One guy a couple of years ago writing for the Skeptical Inquirer apparently tracked down what this kid's actual name was. Obviously, I and probably most people can't corroborate that. So I don't want to say his name and have people start going after him. Sure. That is very, very ethical. Yeah. But again, you know, for this to become such a notable incident, there had to be some hard evidence, right? Just the diary and a whole lot of hearsay.

Just one guy's sort of story. No one took a ding-dang picture? I guess not. No. There were newspaper articles, though. There was one in the Washington Post in August of 1949 with the headline, Pastor Tells Tale of Haunted Boy. And then another one that showed up nine days later in the Washington Post as well that said, Priest Frees Mount Rainier Boy Reported Held in Devil's Grip. You know, that second article is the one that Blatty apparently saw that inspired him to write The Exorcist a couple decades later.

that inspired him to write The Exorcist a couple decades later. But he eventually did track down Bodern, who told him, quote, I can assure you of one thing. This case in which I was involved was the real thing. I had no doubt about it then, and I have no doubt about it now. Sure. Fair enough. You're not convinced. There have to be other explanations for what happened besides this kid had 10 demons and then St. Michael

inside of him, right? Yeah, I'm glad you asked because there's a ton of theories, obviously. First, though, I want to get your theory. You know, if this kid wasn't obviously possessed by the devil or a demon or 10 demons or whatever, what do you think could have been happening here? Well, I mean, the tricky part is at first it all starts with the account. It all starts with the priest and what would his motivations be for sharing the story? What would lead him to interpret events in one way or another? So I can't I don't even know, like self-harm obviously comes to mind with all the scratching. Some psychiatrists have said that it could be Tourette's. OK.

Apparently, Roland was better after the exorcism, though, and Tourette's is not curable. So that seems to be kind of out. Ah, okay. But yeah, any other thoughts other than it's just a troubled kid? So if it wasn't like Tourette's and like he has this exorcism and then he's like better after it. I don't know. Maybe he's kind of like a, maybe it was just a troublemaker and went through this exorcism was like, oh, went too far got too committed doubled down tripled down on this this thing and then was like oh that that wasn't actually very fun they poked me they

prodded me that wasn't cool uh i think i learned my lesson there yeah i think there'd have to be better ways to get attention yeah right then pretend to be a d there's a demon inside of you like be peeing on yourself and carving things into your skin but here's to commitment you know it's worth noting that a priest one of the priests who were brought in to hold roland down during the exorcism was later tracked down by a journalist he said that no one ever actually checked under the kid's fingernails to see if the kid was doing it to himself, which seems like a pretty big oversight to me. But he also said he didn't remember Roland peeing on himself. He didn't think that when

Roland was speaking in Latin, it wasn't like his voice was changing. And, you know, it sounded like he was just kind of parroting back things that he'd already heard the priests saying. Gotcha. Okay. So it seems to me then that something did happen. This child was in legitimate distress, whether of his own making or at the, you know, at the hands of some disorder. So in the late 90s, a writer for Strange Magazine did this really in-depth investigation where he interviewed over a hundred people who, you know, allegedly knew, quote unquote, Roland and his family. They lived on the street. They went to school with him, things like that.

And one of these people happened to be Roland's best friend at the time. And this guy said that Roland went through anything but a normal childhood. His mother was more religious than people thought. He was shunned by classmates. Roland was prone to violent tantrums and outbursts. And at times he allegedly exhibited sadistic behavior towards other kids. Yikes. Which I hate to say it, but all the more reason for me to believe this was either just a massive misinterpretation of what was actually happening or, you know, just a fraud, a hoax. Yeah. Whether perpetrated by the kid or the priests, I don't know.

Yeah. And I guess, you know, a checkmark in the it was perpetrated by the kid column would be that another person said that Roland and his friend were notorious bullies and that they had a penchant for spitting. They could allegedly spit with great accuracy up to 10 feet, which I guess came in handy during the exorcism ended. And they claim that they saw St. Michael appear above the altar holding a flaming sword at the moment that Roland, you know, allegedly had the demons expunged from him in a different room altogether. But I mean, it's still, it all sounds like a ton of hearsay and wild visions and storytelling. And I mean, again, I don't want to discount people who actually truly believe in this kind of stuff

Because I was terrified of it growing up even when I didn't believe in it I would still go to bed like I don't know if I want to go there after seeing The Exorcist But I mean, it's an incredible story and I mean, how could they not make a movie inspired by it? It's visually arresting. But, I mean, at the end of the day, it seems to me like this was most likely a lot of impressionable adults who had a, you know, preconceived worldview imprinting on what they were observing, who got hoodwinked by a particularly imaginative and dedicated, troubled kid. Yeah, and since it's been over 75 years, like you said, since this happened, there's no real way of ever probably getting verification as to what truly happened with this. But listeners, if you have some insight on this, we want to hear it. Hit us up on our socials at SightingsPod. Or as always, email us at theories at sightingspodcast.com.

But Brian, it's that time in the episode where I want to know where we're heading next week. Even though I am scared out of my pants right now, I can't get enough. And I'm hoping since it's the last episode in October, I hope it's somewhere scary. We are continuing our October spooktacular with an urban legend from Ojai, California. Oh, our first urban legend. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,

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Produced by Brian Sigley, Chase Kinzer, and McLeod Andrews. Written by Brian Sigley. Story music by Madison James Smith. Series music by Mitch Bain. Mixing and mastering by Pat Kicklighter of Sundial Media. Artwork by Nuno Sarnatos. For a list of this episode's sources, check out our website at sightingspodcast.com. Sightings is presented by Reverb and Q-Code. If you like the show, be sure to subscribe on your favorite podcast platform so you're first to hear new episodes every week. And if you know other Supernatural fans, tell them about us. We'd really appreciate it.