The Dark Sacrament Page 9

  During her search for a suitable exorcist, the siege of her home continued. The incursions could assume a variety of forms.

  “There was one night in particular,” Julie recalls. “I was on my own in bed again, and some sort of loud noise woke me up. I was only half-awake, wondering what the noise was. I don’t know why but I thought it might have been a dog barking. I waited for it to bark again. But we had no dog; nor did the neighbors on either side. I told myself that I’d imagined it, closed my eyes, and tried to get back to sleep. Then I heard the sound again—the one that woke me up.”

  She knew at once that it was no dog, or indeed any earthly creature. Julie remembers it still with a bone-chilling clarity and dearly wishes that she could forget it—forget both the sound and the malignancy that pervaded the bedroom when it had died away.

  “It was a man’s laugh,” she explains, “a horrible, mocking, evil laugh. It filled the room, but it was inside my head at the same time. I remember putting my hands over my ears to try and block it out, but that didn’t stop it. I couldn’t get out of the bed, I was just powerless to escape it.”

  In the dim light from the street, she saw, on the far wall, the picture of Christ given to her by her sister. It was hard to make out the features, but Julie had contemplated it so often while at prayer that she could call it unerringly to mind.

  “I started to pray out loud to the image of Jesus,” she says. “But Dubois was not amused.”

  The entity vented its fury in yet another demonstration of its power. As Julie concentrated on the face of Jesus, unseen hands gripped the picture, lifted it from the wall, and smashed it to pieces on the floor.

  We have seen that, throughout the many years of her ordeal, Julie Neville had somehow managed to keep her children in the dark with regard to the demon Dubois. They were aware of something, of course—the noises and the taps turning themselves on and off were hard to ignore—but the two boys and their sister were never privy to what went on in their mother’s room when she was alone.

  “I could put up with the torture so long as it didn’t go near the children,” she says. “I knew deep down that I should never have allowed Gordon to play with the Ouija in the first place. And as a mother, I had to take responsibility for my son’s mistake. I was paying the price, but I promised myself that if it ever did attack one of them, I’d have to take action at once.”

  Eventually, what she feared most came to pass. In the summer of 1994, John and Julie went on vacation with the younger children, leaving Gordon in charge of things.

  He was looking forward to the freedom of the house and having his friends over. He was ill prepared for the phenomena he was to experience.

  Gordon, now in his thirties, recalls that harrowing time.

  “The first night wasn’t so bad. I did feel kind of uneasy. I remember it being very cold, especially on the landing and in my bedroom, and turning up the heat. But I thought it was just me, being on my own in the empty house for the first time. On the second night I made the big mistake of sleeping in my parents’ bedroom. I thought it would be more comfortable. Well, ‘sleeping’ actually isn’t the right word, because I didn’t get any sleep.”

  It started—as such phenomena often do—with an apparent accident, a fairly trivial occurrence as far as Gordon was concerned. A little wooden cross fell to the floor.

  It had hung on the far wall, in the place left vacant by the picture of Christ, the one Dubois had destroyed. Gordon had not known of its existence. He would, in any case, have considered it to be no more than an item of idolatry; he was not a believer.

  His mother had compensated for its loss with the cross, found when she cleared out the attic. Gordon had his back to it when it fell. It made only the dullest of thucks as it struck the carpet. He turned, bemused but by no means alarmed. Perhaps he should have been.

  “The strange thing was,” he says, “that when I went to hang it back up again, I discovered that it couldn’t have just fallen unaided, because the nail that held it was still in the wall and the loop of cord on the cross wasn’t broken.”

  Gordon got into bed.

  “The cross shook me up a bit,” he says. “But I told myself I was just being silly, and after a while I dozed off.”

  Not for long, though.

  “I woke up because I heard this creaking sound coming from the wall on the left. My mother had a wardrobe on that side of the room, a big, heavy thing stuffed with her clothes and shoes and things. And there would have been a gap of about four feet between it and the bed. Anyway, I sat up to see what was going on and I just couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  The heavy wardrobe appeared to be growing in size, its dark bulk rising toward the ceiling. Gordon, still drowsy with sleep, blinked to focus his eyes. Bafflingly, the wardrobe continued to grow. It was filling his vision. It was making noises too; they sounded, for all the world, like a great beast groaning in pain. And all at once he knew the truth. The wardrobe was not growing. It was toppling slowly forward, its triangular pediment seemingly set on a collision course with Gordon, as if somebody was pushing from behind. The groaning changed to a deep bass sigh as the wardrobe’s feet gave way beneath the weight.

  Gordon sprang from the bed. The wardrobe crashed down.

  “I tell you, I never moved so fast in my life,” he says with a shiver. “That thing was so heavy I thought it had crushed the bed itself. Later on, when I discovered what my mother had been going through for so long, I really freaked, because I realized that Dubois didn’t like the fact that I had taken over her bed and was actually trying to kill me.”

  Gordon spent the rest of the week at a friend’s house.

  When Julie learned of her son’s experience, she knew that she could no longer keep her secret from the family. If the demon could attack Gordon, then why not his brother and sister? She was greatly afraid for them. She called the family together and revealed all, for the sake of the children omitting the most disturbing details. Dubois had occasioned enough sleepless nights in the Neville household.

  John Neville was shocked and horrified; throughout the long years of his wife’s ordeal he had remained blissfully unaware of the demonic presence in his very bedroom. To be sure, he had suspected that all was not as it should be, but had attributed Julie’s troubles to depression. He was determined that she suffer no longer. He joined her in the search for a churchman who could put an end to her misery.

  One man’s name kept coming to the fore—that of Canon William H. Lendrum. Those whom the couple spoke to were loud in their praise of this man’s qualities. Their search seemed to have borne fruit. It was February 1995.

  Finding the exorcist had proved easy; getting hold of him was another matter. Julie believes that shadowy forces were at work to thwart her, that Dubois was determined that the exorcist would not cross his path.

  “I tried the canon’s number every day for a week,” she says, “but the phone just kept ringing unanswered. I checked with the operator, and I did have the correct number. But each time, it would ring out. The canon told me later that his phone hadn’t been ringing at all at the times I said. He told me that this was a common feature in his experience. The evil spirit, knowing it’s about to be cast out, will do everything to stop it happening.”

  Canon Lendrum proved to be a gentle, soft-spoken man, who received Julie with great compassion and understanding, putting her immediately at ease. He arranged to visit her home the following evening—and perform a deliverance. There would be no preamble, no more time wasting; she had suffered enough, and for far too long.

  “I thought I’d feel great relief when I heard that,” she says, “but instead I remember this feeling of absolute dread coming over me.”

  The canon appeared to read her thoughts. “Don’t worry,” he said, “your troubles will soon be over. Have faith. But yes, it most likely will step up its activities now that plans are afoot to cast it out.”

  Those words proved chillingly correct. On returning home, Jul
ie was assailed by a terrible atmosphere in the house. The foul odor that had become synonymous with Dubois’s presence was overpowering. The demon was indeed mustering its forces for the coming battle.

  She threw open all the windows and started to clean the house, but the unpleasant smell persisted. Nevertheless, fortified by the canon’s words, she determined that she would not be driven out of her home in broad daylight. When she had finished dusting, however, the stench was so overpowering that it made her sick. She rushed outside and retched. It took courage to return indoors. The last chore was the vacuuming.

  But Dubois held a card or two in reserve, and was about to play one. Julie suddenly recalled the old dictum Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all at once she divined its deeper meaning. Dubois was about to show her its opposite. Before she could finish, the note of the vacuum cleaner changed eerily.

  “It began to groan and squeal,” she recalls, “like a trapped animal. It was horrible. I had no choice but to turn it off. When the kids came home from school, I phoned John at the hospital to tell him we’d all be staying with Margaret that night. No way was I going to risk it.”

  At eight the following evening, Canon Lendrum arrived at the Neville home, accompanied by two assistants. He remembers the expulsion of the demon that called itself Pierre Dubois as a trying affair.

  “Having lived in Julie’s house and oppressed her for so long, it felt it had the right to stay put. Always difficult,” he says now, looking back.

  We are having tea in the parlor of his south Belfast home. The jovial, octogenarian exorcist is the antithesis of the doleful demon hunter that Hollywood would have us believe is the norm. His spirited demeanor and optimism belie years of having fought and routed the darkest of foes.

  “When these things manifest themselves,” he continues, “they should be stamped out as soon as possible. The longer a person waits, the more entrenched the malignancy, and then the harder it is to shift.”

  The canon describes his encounter, beginning from the moment he arrived at the Neville house. When he entered, the oppressive presence was almost palpable.

  “It was worse than I thought,” he says. “There was a very peculiar atmosphere in the house. I suppose I would describe it as ‘hostile.’ The smell of burning and the coldness were very strong, especially on the stairs and in Julie’s bedroom. But one’s faith never wavers in a situation like that. The power of the Lord is always present.”

  Julie, her husband, and Gordon gathered in the living room for the ceremony. Brief introductions were made. It could begin.

  Canon Lendrum donned his surplice and laid out on a table the sacred objects for the celebration of the Eucharist: a simple cross on a stand, the Communion paten, a chalice, two candles in silver holders, and a bottle of holy water.

  “I hear the private confession of those who live in the house,” the canon explains, “before the service begins. This is a very important part of the ritual. If anyone declines—and most especially the person who is being oppressed—it generally means that they have something to hide, and in all likelihood the exorcism will not be successful. In my experience, a severely demonized person will find the act of repentance very difficult, if not intolerable, and from their behavior you very quickly come to realize you’re dealing with the exorcism of an individual, as opposed to a home.”

  “Thankfully, that was not the case with Julie,” he continues. “She had been oppressed by that demon and suffered it so long that she was more than eager to be rid of it. She willingly rejected all associations with Ouija and the occult, and recommitted her life to the Lord.”

  Once Julie had formally, and in the presence of witnesses, rededicated herself to Jesus, Canon Lendrum was ready for the service of the Eucharist.

  The group arranged themselves on a row of chairs facing a makeshift altar. The assistants sat on either side of Julie, with John and Gordon flanking them. The canon extended his hands over the Holy Book, and read from Luke’s Gospel.

  “The seventy returned again with joy, saying, ‘Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name.’ And he said to them, ‘I saw Satan fall like lightning from heaven. Behold, I have given you authority to trample on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing shall hurt you.’”

  The canon joined his hands and bowed his head in silent prayer. The participants did likewise.

  It had been raining steadily for most of that winter afternoon. Now the wind was up. It could be heard whistling and sighing at the window. Julie was reminded of a similar winter’s evening all those years ago—an evening when a much happier but gullible young woman had placed her finger on a glass and allowed something unclean to intrude upon her life. She shivered at the memory and at what might lie ahead. Would the demon Dubois put up a fight, make her suffer further? Or would this kind man of God be able to drive the horror from her life for good?

  Canon Lendrum blessed the bread and wine, and distributed them among the participants.

  The Eucharist is an intrinsic part of an exorcism, the canon explains. Every Eucharist is a proclamation of the death and resurrection of Jesus. It therefore celebrates his absolute, complete, and total victory over Satan.

  He returned to the altar and, extending his hands over the Holy Book, gazed heavenward. “Strengthened and refreshed by the Body and Blood of Christ, we are now ready to exercise the authority and power of Jesus Christ against whatever evil is disturbing this place.”

  The wind blew more fiercely at the window. It seemed to shriek and howl like a demented animal. Julie was reminded of the groaning sounds she heard coming from the vacuum cleaner the day before.

  “But, strangely enough, when I heard it I wasn’t afraid,” she recalls. “I knew that God was in the room and I felt totally safe.”

  “We rejoice in your great love,” the canon’s voice rang out with confidence, “and in the victory of your son Jesus Christ over sin, death, and hell. We pray you send angels to gather to this place any spirits that may have been active here.”

  Overhead the lightbulb flickered, then dimmed. John kept his head bowed, too afraid to look up. Gordon, on seeing his father’s response, likewise buried his face in his hands. Of the three, Julie was the one who remained calm. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, gazing serenely at the cross upon the altar.

  “Spirit, I address you now in the name and with the authority of Jesus Christ,” Canon Lendrum continued undeterred. “I have power to bind you and power to release you. I—”

  The light went out. The room was in darkness, save for the candles on the altar. “I command you to go immediately to the place that Jesus has—”

  Slowly, the door was opening. Gordon and John looked wildly about the room. On seeing that the others did not share their consternation, they bowed their heads again, a little embarrassed.

  Canon Lendrum waited. One of the assistants went and shut the door. “I command you to go immediately to the place that Jesus has appointed for you!”

  The wind stepped up its howling. The window blew open. Strangely enough, the candles did not die. Again, the assistant rose; he secured the sash. “You will go and you will not return to this place again ever. The angels appointed by God will take you to your own place and there you will remain.”

  The exorcist paused and bowed his head again. As he did so, the wailing at the window began to subside. The presence was departing. He spread his hands and gazed upward. “Father, we thank you that this spirit is now leaving and going to where you want it to be.”

  The light in the room flickered into life again. John and Gordon looked up with relief. They seemed no longer afraid. “We ask you to cleanse this house from all defilement, that it may become, for those who dwell here, a house of peace.”

  The canon sprinkled holy water at different points in the room. His voice was gentle, no longer that of the scourge of demons. “Send your angels to guard this house and protect those who dwell here. Unite them in love and draw
them to yourself, so that they may rejoice in you as their Savior and Lord forever.”

  Even before Canon Lendrum had ceased praying, the atmosphere in the room was changing. An air of dread and danger was giving way to peace.

  The service ended with the Lord’s Prayer and prayers of thanksgiving. Afterward, the canon requested that the others remain kneeling while he and Julie went from room to room and he blessed the house.

  Holy water is important to every exorcism. It is symbolic of baptism and the three benefits Jesus promises through its use: forgiveness of sins, defense against the wickedness of Satan, and the gift of divine protection.

  “There was a strange thing when the reverend was blessing the kitchen,” Julie recalls. “We discovered that the window above the sink was open. I was really uneasy when I saw it because I knew for certain I’d locked it. It was the same window that blew open all those years ago when me and the children were messing with the Ouija and Dubois told me to go and close it.”

  So what was the canon’s reaction?

  Julie smiles. “When I saw it I nearly jumped out of my skin, but he didn’t even flinch. He just smiled and went and closed it again, and said something that really made me laugh: ‘Well, that’s the end of him, Julie. Pierre Dubois has left the building.’”

  At a little after ten that evening, the exorcist and his assistants took their leave. All were conscious of a prolonged battle having ended, an evil firmly routed.

  It was over.

  The demon—the entity that complained of being tired of wandering and was in need of rest, the entity that had been to South Africa and was not wanted there, that had come to a town in County Antrim and for fifteen years held to ransom the life of a vulnerable, God-fearing woman—that terrible entity had finally departed.