Invisible War

I was born in Providence, Rhode Island. A city boy at heart. Being raised Catholic, I never questioned the concept of God. From my earliest memories, the supernatural has always been part of my existence. 

As a child, my parents met a witch who practiced black magic. Her influence profoundly impacted our family, culminating in a terrifying encounter on Christmas morning. I woke up early, filled with excitement. I couldn’t wait to open the gifts under the tree. But it was dawn, much too early to wake my parents. Suddenly, the room grew cold, and a figure appeared. I instinctively slid under the covers. Something unearthly stood beside my bed. I peered through the sheets and saw a dark, robed figure. I was terrified to look at its face. I buried my head in the pillow and silently prayed, “Please God, make it go away!” With cautious curiosity, I lifted my head again, only to find the entity still there. I closed my eyes and prayed once more, “Please, please…, I begged. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over me. I peeked and saw that it had vanished. I’m not sure if it sensed my fear or if my prayers made it leave, but my eyes were now opened to a whole new world.

Over the years, I became fascinated by the occult. This is when my Invisible War of “Good” vs. “Evil” began. I teetered between shadow and light. Whenever I felt myself slipping into the dark arts, I reached for the safety net of religion, until darkness called me back. There was no reprieve. My demons became the embodiment of sinful pleasures that drove me down a path of substance abuse and failed relationships. I spent years wandering the halls of extinction, demonizing and scapegoating. My faith was in short supply. I needed more than a myth made of flesh by a poet named God. But if the Great Author of Creation used prostitutes and murderers to tell a story, then why not save a wretched soul like me? 

Fast forward to the summer of 2005…my dad and I were sitting on the back deck, sipping coffee, when he randomly asked, “Where do you think we go when we die?” I was taken aback. We were never intimate with our conversations. Still, I enjoyed our connection with such a sensitive topic. Sadly, that was the last time we spoke. Two days later, he passed away.

Did my father have a suspicion of his own destiny? His death drove me to seek answers outside the confines of the church. I yearned for proof of an afterlife. The surge of ghost hunting shows was overwhelming and impossible to ignore. I immersed myself in the subject, absorbing as much information as I could. Unfortunately, my relentless quest for truth strained relationships on both sides of the spectrum. The secular world deemed me “too godly,” while the Christian community accused me of not being “godly enough.” None of that mattered to me. I embarked on a mission to investigate alleged hauntings, collaborating with various research teams in the pursuit of uncovering answers. Our collective efforts yielded some extraordinary evidence. But this exploration led to more questions. I discovered that the spirit realm was like a vast ocean; the deeper you dive, the more you realize what you never knew existed. 

In 2006, during a period when our team took on some of the most challenging and disturbing cases, my nine-year-old son was scratched on the forehead and flung five feet across the room by an unseen force. This was a clear warning that I had ventured too far. Yet, despite the attack, my journey to uncover the supernatural continued. 

In 2007, I was part of a project called Dark Hauntings. Our team spent 72 hours investigating the infamous Sallie House in Atchison, Kansas. Suddenly, the idea of having our own television show came to mind. I thought, “This is it! Maybe we can market ourselves as a Christian Investigation Team: the supernatural gun slingers for Jesus. Yeah, that’s our niche.” But here I was again, facing backlash from the religious and paranormal communities. People would say, “It’s a ghost!” or “They’re demons!” Regardless of the explanation, neither option satisfied me. Nevertheless, I believed the truth lay somewhere in the middle. 

Throughout my career, I’ve had the privilege of collaborating with many individuals in the field. I have appeared on television shows and co-hosted podcasts. These media platforms allowed me to share my experiences. Looking back, I realize that seeking proof of an afterlife was never truly necessary. The answer was always there. The supernatural is all around us, whether felt through a gentle breeze that brushes our face or the creaking of a door. Our earthly departure is inevitable. Rest assured friends, death is the doorway we all must pass through, but it is not the end.  My days of “ghost hunting” are behind me, but I continue to aid others confidently, comforted by the belief that God has been guiding me since childhood. My mission now is to be a beacon for those ensnared by fear.