SPIRIT TALES AND MAGIC
Our host; Dr.G had his first paranormal experience at only eight years old. With over five decades of storytelling, magic and paranormal story collection he is an award winning story teller on a mission to revive firelight and the telling of stories!
SPIRIT TALES AND MAGIC
Ghosts of Faith and Madness
What if the line between belief and madness is thinner than we think? Join me, Dr. G, as we navigate the eerie and unsettling landscapes of psychological horror and real-world encounters with evil. First, we dissect the chilling narrative of "Frailty," a film that explores a father's belief in his divine mission to destroy demons, revealing the haunting journey of his sons, Fenton and Adam. Matthew McConaughey delivers a haunting performance that adds depth and complexity to this story of faith gone awry. This chapter is a deep dive into the dark corners of the human psyche, where innocence is lost and the thin line between good and evil becomes disturbingly blurred.
Our journey continues as I recount a readers a tense meeting with Jedediah Reynolds, the man accused of killing her father. His cryptic apology and claim of possessing a 'gift' to cleanse the world of evil leaves us grappling with questions about justice and understanding. From my experiences in Columbus, Ohio, with a task force dedicated to hunting those who commit the unspeakable, to a haunting tale of a friend’s unjust suffering, the unseen world of darkness and chaos is ever-present. Embrace the spirit of Halloween with tales of the supernatural and remember to keep a keen eye on the shadows that lurk just beyond the light.
Thank you everybody. It's Dr G. Thanks for tuning in to Spirit Tales and Magic. It's about 7.15 in the back lot of the Spirit Tales and Magic recording studio. That's actually an office that we're in tonight. It's kind of like Air Force One. Whatever office we happen to be in at the time is Spirit Tales and Magic's recording studio, at least in the month of October. So lots of things going on.
Speaker 1:Had a lot of requests to talk about the Hand of God killer. They wanted me. Well, they I'm sorry the listeners wanted me to tell my story about the man that I met. That, I believe, was a very good candidate for that and that's a podcast all by itself which will come up soon. But let's talk about one of the actual God told me to do it killer types.
Speaker 1:So there are two things Frailty, which is a psychological horror about a widowed father, known only as Dad, who believes he's been chosen by God to murder demons disguised as human beings. This is a movie and he enlists the help of his unwilling sons, benton Meeks, which is played by, I believe, matthew McConaughey. He recounts the story of seemingly unbelievable childhood to the FBI agent Wesley Doyle, played by Powers Booth, to prove that his brother, adam Levi Kress, is responsible for a series of unsolved killings. So the first and last ten minutes are rooted in present-day Texas. But the bulk of the film takes place in 1979, with Matt O'Leary and, I believe, jeremy Sumter playing Fenton and Adam's younger counterparts.
Speaker 1:When the film first opened I was browsing Amazon Prime's collection of obscure horror films. I kind of assumed it would be an easy watch. I looked at the poster, I kind of looked at the way McConaughey looked and the flying birds and saw the date and said you know what it's going to be campy. So I figured frailty would have some low stakes, if you will. I was wrong. So frailty is not for the faint of heart, and the film makes this clear pretty much from the get-go.
Speaker 1:The opening credits are decorated with newspaper headings about grisly murders and they're accompanying photos with kind of dark and ominous violin music playing over the top. Nothing good is coming next, it says to the audience Get out now. That's a good theatrical trick. The credits fade into an eerily calm McConaughey sitting in the office of an FBI agent named Wesley Doyle. We learn that his name is Fenton and we quickly flash to his brother putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. Fenton tells Agent Doyle that his brother, adam, is the killer behind the God's Hand Murders knowledge he could not share while his brother was alive. It's here that Fenton begins to recount their upbringing, which was fairly normal until the day their father received a prophetic vision from God. An angel appeared and told him that demons were real and they walked the earth disguised as humans and it was now his mission to destroy them.
Speaker 1:The screenplay, written by, I believe, brent Hanley, who was also involved with Signs it, was a winner of the 2002 Bram Stoker Award. It was inspired by the Night of the Hunter works of Alfred Hitchcock, his own Southern Baptist upbringing, and Leonard Cohen's the Story of Isaac. Story of Isaac. The song in Cohen's take on the blinding of Isaac, a biblical allegory in which God appears to Abraham in a prophetic vision and asks him to sacrifice his son. Adam's willingness to carry out the task is a testament to both his love and fear of God. The same can be said for Paxton's dad, meeks.
Speaker 1:In many ways, god is the villain here. Every kill in the name of God. Every time the boys are forced to watch, it's in the name of God. It's God who tells Dad that Fenton is a demon, which results in the child being starved and abused for the disproving of his father's gruesome actions. After reaching the breaking point, fenton realizes that the only way to end the abuse is by falsely claiming that he saw God. It's only then that the child is allowed to eat. It's only then that he's able to feel the love his father had for him before the angel appeared and tore their lives apart.
Speaker 1:Now Adam, on the other hand, he's never without his father's love. He never abandons his brother, but he abandons his morale early on. When Dad brings his sons into the shed to witness the first murder, the young boy gives in without question. Despite watching the woman struggle and plead for mercy, he happily helps his father bury the body. Even though Adam sneaks food and water to Fenton while he's being starved, his loyalty to Dad never wavers. He pleads with Fenton to give in and to believe, so they can all be a happy family again. It hurts Fenton emotionally as he deteriorates throughout the film, slowly losing his youth and innocence with every interaction he has with his father. He breaks down into tears after the first murder, but he has nothing left to give at the end of the film, when young Adam volunteers to carry out a murder of his own. The viewer isn't surprised, just disappointed. When he raises the axe over his head, the look on his face is one of anger toward the victim's supposed sins or immense passion for the cause, its determination. Adam truly believes in his heart that he is the ultimate way to win his dad's love.
Speaker 1:What makes Frailty one of Paxton's best and most underrated performances is also what makes the film so eerie and unnerving. Instead of taking inspiration from the Shining's over-the-top Jack Torrance or Pet Sematary's over-melancholic Louis Creed, paxton makes a specific choice sincerity. Throughout the film, Dad maintains a composure that is too calm and cool for a man driving around Texas with a van while kidnapping people off the street. He wakes up, he goes to work, he puts dinner on the table and kills at night. This extremely normal demeanor lets the audience know that he believes in what he's doing. He's not unsecure about it. The film would not succeed without this. Any other performance would risk making light or heavy of the subject matter, like child abuse, or derailing the otherwise serious horror into straight camp. That's the movie version.
Speaker 1:Now I will say, when it comes to serial killers, more often than not there's a copycat, or once they're caught or killed or they just go away. Someone else sometimes takes over. This comes from one of our listeners. They called him the crucifix killer. For a week straight, the airwaves were saturated with stories of his capture. The boogeyman vanquished at last. I personally found the title insensitive in light of his crimes, but it undeniably gave the public a quiet thrill, being able to target their fears into something tangible, a name to the otherwise faceless villain in the shadows of our safe suburban neighborhoods, an unearthly creature stalking the night and carving crosses into the bodies of his prey.
Speaker 1:In truth, crucifix Killer is just a man in his 50s, jedediah Reynolds of Jacksonville, florida. Over 30 years, mr Reynolds had amassed dozens of murders across the country, all linked by the gruesome, uniform nature. The vast majority of his victims were men, mostly Caucasian in the 25 to 60 range, but he did deviate on occasion. There was one woman in particular, but he did deviate on occasion. There was one woman in particular. She was a beloved mother and active church member in Wisconsin whose murder had garnered a great deal of coverage, more so than most of the other victims that were later attributed to Jedediah. For a while, the local news media outlets were clogged up with the gory details of his crimes. They pushed the limits of censorship, painting pictures pulled straight from a pulp fiction novel. He started with a throat, first a piano wire, then a knife. In his later years, once he'd overpowered the victim, he'd cut or claw out the eyes then place them in his target's mouth. He finished with his signature cross, large and ragged, sliced deep into their chest after they had perished.
Speaker 1:I probably wouldn't have taken note of any of it, if I'm being honest, but I've never much cared for shock stories or true crime. Unfortunately, I was forced to pay attention when the crucifix killer murdered my father. My dad had been the last victim before Reynolds was caught. The entire event was broadcast on the evening news, though it hadn't been all that exciting to watch. An anonymous tip and some CCTV footage managed to close the case in a matter of days, when nothing else had come to close in three decades of. Reynolds hadn't even put up a fight. Upon his arrest, if anything, he looked relieved, eyes cast down, tired. His withdrawn demeanor and fondness toward religious symbolism had people speculating A devil made me do it. Defense in court. Just more fodder for the local board, news media and housewives.
Speaker 1:The detective on the case advised against me. Speaking to my father's killer, he told me that Jed wasn't being particularly forthcoming anyway and I was risking my mental health by potentially exposing myself to everything the man had done, which certainly wasn't a reach. Most people weren't mentally prepared for the reality of facing the murderer of a loved one, but from the moment I'd been informed of my father's death, all I could think about was confronting this man. I needed to know why. Why did someone like my dad have to die? Growing up, my father had been the only one there for me, and even now no one loved or supported me the way that he had. He was always encouraging me, kind of doting over me, and when my mom left us he loved me twice as hard. My father was a good, gentle man. He was kind to everyone and didn't deserve such a heartbreaking fate. He'd been the sole person to truly believe in me through all of my ups and downs, and now I was gone and all instead was this righteous fury at need for answers.
Speaker 1:Katie Moore, the receptionist, called rousing me from the web of thoughts I'd spun while waiting to enter the visiting center here. I answered like she was taking roll call. The flustered-looking woman with the clipboard buzzed me in. They made me leave my cell phone in the lobby, then sent me through a metal detector that led to a drab, chilly hallway. The atmosphere changed as they ushered me through the door to the visitors' room, a dismal, barren space full of miserable people, some in chains, some free. They spoke in little clusters, focused on one another and obvious to the tears and hushed arguments at the tables around them. Take a seat, one of the guards said, gesturing to a table in the corner.
Speaker 1:I looked around at his colleagues to find them distracted and uninterested, staring into space. I wondered what it must be like to grow so accustomed to being surrounded by murderers that an individual couldn't even be bothered to keep an eye on what was happening around them. Is it burnout, apathy or perhaps both? The man walked away and my nerves spiked even more than they were already. I tried to focus on the task at hand, but it only made my blood pressure rise.
Speaker 1:Seconds ticked by and a pit formed in my stomach as I questioned my choice to come here for the very first time. Was I really ready for this? Would it actually make any sort of positive difference? Maybe I was better off not knowing. It wasn't too late to back out. I could, after all, just get up and leave.
Speaker 1:But the doors to the left of me screeched open and my chance was gone. A guard at either side. They marched him in, jedediah Reynolds, the man whose face has been plastered on every television channel for the past two weeks, the last person that would see my father alive. His head was down, eyes averted as they led it to my table, but for the jangle of the chains. The man didn't make a sound, allowing himself to be directed without any protest. I watched as the guards secured his cuffs to the table, giving him just enough room for movement, but not enough for the illusion of freedom. One of the guards mumbled something about no touching. Then let us be disappearing behind the heavy doors once more. And then it was just the two of us.
Speaker 1:Though the room was filled with people, I felt alone. Staring at this man in person. He really hadn't seemed very real until now. Everything up until this moment had been a mere fantasy. Part of me had envisioned storming in, demanding the truth, shaking this man to his core. I wanted him to know that I wasn't afraid of him, that he had to answer to me for this, for all of his transgressions, like I was the angel of justice herself. But now that he was across from me, hunched over and silent, I couldn't muster up the words myself. Silent, I couldn't muster up the words myself.
Speaker 1:We sat like that for a while, unspeaking. Bits and pieces of conversations around us drifted to me people arguing, people crying. I swallowed and glanced back at Reynolds. He still hadn't even looked up at me. Do you know who I am? I finally asked. Reynolds did not reply. I stared at him for a while, wondering if he could feel my eyes on him. If I stared long enough, would something happen? Would he possibly crack? But he remained unchanged, head down, as if in prayer.
Speaker 1:So I continued you killed my father, I said, searching for a reaction, but there was none. He didn't flinch or move, he just kept staring down. I'm sorry for that, he said, and I was startled at the sudden reply. His voice was lower and much more raspy than I had imagined. It was definitely older than his years, exhausted, like he had never slept. Then why did you do it? I ask. After a moment clearing my thoughts, as I caught the first quiver in my words. I don't expect you to understand. He murmured in the same tired tone as before. I'm very sorry for the suffering this has caused you. I wish I could take your pain away. He was all I had. You know that I said through gritted teeth, my eyes burning. I'm alone now because of you.
Speaker 1:Another long silence stretched between us. Finally, jedediah lifted his head, allowing me to see his creased face and his mournful eyes, the heavy, heavy bags that hung beneath them. I wish it could have been another way. He began. I know you can't possibly understand, but his expression shifted as he focused on my face, startled like he'd seen a ghost. I must have made the same expression.
Speaker 1:Caught off guard by the change in his posture. It was like seeing an old rock come to life out of nowhere. Tears filled his eyes and he smiled. He actually smiled. It's you, he said. His voice was shaking. I've never gotten to actually meet you before. What I snapped, glancing around at the guards who were paying us absolutely no mind. What are you talking about?
Speaker 1:Jedediah shook his head and lowered it again. Praise God, he told me, to be able to see you. It's the one blessing to come of all this burden. He caught my gaze and held it. Please, he whispered with unnerving desperation. Can I touch your hand? I jerked away as he tried to grab me. What, no way? He stared for a moment, his smile fading, and slowly nodded in acceptance. You're right, I'm sorry. What the hell are you going on about? I demanded again. How can you sit there and smile at me?
Speaker 1:After murdering my father, he grew somber again, staring down in his clasped hands. Several seconds passed and I wondered if perhaps the man was done talking. Then I could tell you the truth. I owe you that much, but I doubt you'll believe it. He looked up once more and even if you do well, you probably don't want to hear it. The urge to strike the man rose in my chest.
Speaker 1:I was listening to the ramblings of some psychopath. Why had I let him rile me up that way? Why did I possibly think that coming here was a good idea? He was playing with me, pulling me into his delusions, but even so, I couldn't fight the nagging fear that if I turned away from him now, I'd forever be haunted by the mystery. Excuse me for one moment. This could be the only way that I would ever learn the truth. I swallowed hard Just tell me.
Speaker 1:Reynolds looked at me for a moment, searching my face as if looking for a crack in my resolve. Finally, he closed his eyes and nodded. I learned as a young man that I have. Well, I have a gift, he told me. Truthfully, it's more like a curse. Such a cliche, I thought, but I felt like I knew where this might be going. See, I've come to understand that I was put on this earth for an important reason. He continued Through God's will, I have the power to cleanse this land of evil. I stared at him without reaction. Maybe I'd seen too many cop shows, but it didn't surprise me.
Speaker 1:This guy thought he was special, that the things he did were justified. It reminded me of something my father used to say regarding sick people who thought they were doing the Lord's work, taking out the evildoers. He said they believed they were the hand of God doing his bidding on this earth. It was the sort of darkness that could come out of religion and blind faith. Just a bunch of mentally ill folks. According to my dad, he'd never believed in the supernatural. So my father had a demon in him.
Speaker 1:Huh? I asked very coldly. No, jedediah said it's not like that. Ever since I was a teenager I he hesitated and looked around the first time that he had appeared nervous since he entered the room. It was like all of the solemn, broken man from before had clearly vanished.
Speaker 1:I know it's difficult to believe, but I swear it. When I touch a person, sometimes I see things, things that haven't happened yet. I stared him down, unblinking, and he shifted beneath my gaze. I see things they're going to do. Just say it. I said sick of the dancing around. If I touch the skin of a future murderer, I can see his crimes that they haven't yet committed.
Speaker 1:Jedediah searched my eyes, perhaps searching for a desired reaction. All of those people, he murmured. I didn't want to kill them, but if I hadn't, they would have taken more innocent lives. My expression didn't change, change, still incredulous and very angry. But inwardly I considered the pattern of victims that were connected with Reynolds. I couldn't remember them all, but quite a few did seem to have an unsavory air about them. There was a wife beater, a corrupt cop, an escalating pedophile, an embittered hermit who stalked women and, perhaps most damning to all, the mother. In Wisconsin, tributes to her had stopped completely after it was discovered that she'd been slowly poisoning her children and her husband for insurance money. It didn't mean anything, of course, jedediah could have found their information online and perhaps noticed a pattern, might have tracked people down based on arrest records or maybe even an internet forum. After all, the ones that came to mind may not have been great people. There were plenty of others who had been stand-up citizens like my father.
Speaker 1:You think I'm crazy, reynolds said, pulling me from my thoughts. I understand, I do. I thought I was for a long time until it started to happen. I'd see the murderers. Then I'd discover they'd happened just like I'd seen them in my vision. Why not go to the police? Then, I ask, meaning into my skepticism. In an effort to ground myself, I tried to. I swear it, jedediah said. I pleaded. There was nothing I could say to make them follow through Without a crime. What was there to investigate? I realized that most of these people would be punished after the killing had already occurred. He gazed down at his hands again, heard. He gazed down at his hands again. So I did what I had to do.
Speaker 1:He considered what the man had said for a long while. It was insane to buy into such a story. This person was crazy and I was only hurting myself by indulging in his fantasies. However, I couldn't help but linger on my next question. Would asking it be the same as accepting what Jedediah was telling me? Despite my hesitation, we both knew it was coming.
Speaker 1:I saw a reluctance on Jedediah's face right before I'd even spoken. So what about my dad? I finally asked what was he going to do Now? It was Jedediah's turn to draw out the silence. He locked his gaze on the table, refusing to look at me, which only made me even more angry. Tell me, I snapped. If I was going to put myself in this position by asking. He damn well better respond to me.
Speaker 1:Jed raised his head again and my gut clenched as I saw that he was crying. The words stopped in my throat. Was this remorse? Did he regret what he had done? Now he was forced to face the victim's family? Was it fear of consequences, finally settling in, or a realization that perhaps he hadn't been spiritually guided to kill these people after all? Or more delusions? I don't know how to proceed, but Jed did. It was you.
Speaker 1:I stared at the man and I felt my heart rate increase. I'm so sorry, child. I had no idea. No idea. It was his own daughter.
Speaker 1:Something twisted inside of me. I wanted to ask what he meant. But we both knew you don't expect me to believe something that ridiculous. I said, and some distant part of me hoped that he'd tell me I was right. I didn't believe him. I told myself over and over that I didn't believe him. Yet I couldn't stop the feeling. My insides were twisting. There was no way he wasn't lying about all of it His special ability, the visions, the murder itself. I could have easily brushed it off as more crazy ramblings, but some distant part of me couldn't shake Jed's words. Was it his sincerity or my own need to make sense of the nonsensical? It wasn't possible.
Speaker 1:Even if I were willing to buy into the supernatural crap, my father loved me more than anything, than anything, I'm sorry, jed said again. He seemed like such a good man. When he shook my hand. I saw him holding a pillow over the face of a girl, crying as she fought against him. Once she'd stopped moving, he lifted the pillow again and I saw her face, your face. Tears glistened in his eyes as Jedediah struggled to finish his story. You were so young. I saw your lifeless eyes, your entire future snuffed out, and I had to stop him.
Speaker 1:Though I inwardly screamed that these were lies, I couldn't stop myself from imagining my father doing such a thing. I thought about the hands that lovingly brushed my hair, that wiped away my tears and comforted me when I was sick. The idea of those same hands turning on me and ending my life. My stomach twisted again, battling a swill of nausea and fury. It was much harder than I expected to assure myself that none of this crap was true. I hated Jedediah that much more for planting that uncertainty inside of me.
Speaker 1:I was stupid to come here, I said standing sharply. Maybe it had been the grief that had me thinking I could find any sort of closure in this. The loss had hit me too hard and I'd convinced myself that there was an answer that could take away some of the damage. But now I was finding clarity and I knew staying here a second longer was only going to make things worse for me. No, wait, just a moment.
Speaker 1:Jedediah said Don't go yet. Please don't go. I've never been able to meet any of the people that I've saved. Please just stay for one more minute. I hope you live a long, long life, I told him coldly. Enjoy prison, please wait. He called as I turned to leave, his fingers clasping around my wrist and pulling me back.
Speaker 1:My heart leapt into my throat and I whipped around, curses on my tongue. However, the rage leaked out of me the moment I saw his face. The gaze between us was intense. It was intense enough to make me shudder, but I didn't look away. I focused on his expression, the particular way his features had twisted, and as I watched the look of sheer shock on his eyes shift into a violent panic, something shifted within me as well. My heart began to flutter. I was rather exhilarated. I couldn't help the smile that stretched across my lips.
Speaker 1:Old Jed was telling the truth. You, jed, whispered. Eyes wide and horrified my pulse raced, excitement dancing through my veins To think that something like this could even be real. I beamed at Jedediah. Then I leaned in closer so no one else could hear us. You know, I honestly didn't think he had the guts to go through with it, I murmured. Sure, he was afraid of what I might do someday, but I've always been daddy's little girl. It hurts a little to think that he was actually capable of killing me.
Speaker 1:Jedediah shook his head, his voice light and raspy. You're a monster, I smirked. Are you sure? Or am I just doing God's work? Hey, no, touching a guard said loudly, and I jerked my arm from Jed's shaking hand. Thank you, though, jedediah, I said softly, for saving me. With that, I turned and walked away from him. Behind me, his screams echoed through the cement room. Don't let her leave, he shouted. You have to stop her, don't let her leave. Oh, what have I done? The guards jumped to life at the disturbance, wrestling Jed to the ground Amid his crazed rantings. Stepping out of the prison, I turned my head to the sky the sun was shining bright and the day was full of promise.
Speaker 1:The first time I heard of that kind of struck a nerve, and I don't want to go into this story deeply, but while in Columbus, ohio, I believe that I met a Hand of God killer. It's a long story that has to be a podcast on its own, and I won't blow the ending for you. In the many things I have done in my life, I did serve on a task force with some men who hunted, if you will or hunted is not the right word who pursued some evil evil men. Dig down into your deepest nightmares and think of the most horrifying thing that you could ever possibly think of, and these guys did worse than that for recreation. It's amazing the things we can do to each other, in whatever name you place on it Religion, socioeconomic standings, whatever it is Chaos and evil. If you will Don't recognize any of those things, it doesn't matter who you are, where you came from, how many degrees you have, how much money you have, whether you're at any given time. There are four serial killers in your immediate CDL area. That's your critical distance line. So I wouldn't take them lightly. I'd know where I was and what I was doing as much as possible.
Speaker 1:It's hard to believe that in America every 2.5 seconds an arrest is made. We did away with institutions because someone thought they were cruel, so instead now we just say, oh, those poor people, we can help them. And I'm here to tell you there are some people you cannot save and some people you cannot rehabilitate, having personally witnessed some of the horrors that went on in Trans-Allegheny and what my friend Ann went through when she was put there for falling asleep. Falling asleep, she was drunk, but she passed out on Tombstone. That was her crime and she got life for that. In Trans-Allegheny there should be a place where the pardon, the expression truly evil people should be placed. But then again I digress.
Speaker 1:What's your creepy story? We'd love to hear it. We'll talk again in a day or so, but remember these two things there is indeed a world unseen, a world that exists all around us all the time, and every now and again, for whatever the reason, we catch a glimpse of it and the dead get in. Cassandra and I have about 2,000 more miles to cover before the end of October. You'll be covering some distance too. I'm sure you have something planned for the Halloween season. But you know we're going to say, hey, take time out, find some friends, sit in a safe place, fire or not, and tell a ghost story. It's good for you. Good night from Arizona.
