Roland Doe Exorcism: Missouri, 1949 - Sightings

Summary

Sightings Podcast Episode Summary: "Roland Doe Exorcism: Missouri, 1949"

Introduction

In the gripping episode titled "Roland Doe Exorcism: Missouri, 1949," hosts MacLeod Andrews and Brian Sigley delve into one of the most infamous supernatural cases that purportedly inspired the legendary horror film, The Exorcist. Released on October 21, 2024, this episode meticulously unpacks the harrowing tale of Roland Doe, a young boy whose soul became the epicenter of a relentless battle between good and evil.

The Doe Family’s Turmoil

The narrative begins in January 1949, as Carl Do, the father, recounts the tragic news of his sister Harriet's sudden death. This loss deeply affects the family, especially Roland, age 13, who was particularly close to Harriet. As Carl describes, "I found him upstairs in his bedroom, hunched over something on the floor" (02:15), immediately identifying a Ouija board—a connection to his late aunt Harriet.

Emergence of Supernatural Phenomena

Shortly after Harriet's death, unsettling events begin to unfold:

Unexplained Noises: Roland starts hearing scratching sounds under his bed, resembling "claws scraping across wood" (05:00), despite finding nothing physically amiss.
Furniture Moving: Objects begin to topple and slide autonomously. Carl notes, "The very next day I saw the kitchen table tip over while he was standing nearby" (12:30).
Disturbing Behavior: Roland exhibits bizarre actions, such as the planchette moving aimlessly on the Ouija board and later, causing his school desk to slide without explanation (15:45).

Seeking Medical and Spiritual Intervention

As incidents escalate, the family seeks various forms of help:

Professional Consultations: Visits to physicians, psychologists, and even a psychic yield no explanations, leaving the family desperate and confused.
Initial Priestly Assistance: Father Schultz, a Lutheran priest, arrives and witnesses furniture moving but dismisses the events as pranks orchestrated by Roland. However, during a prayer session, Roland violently reacts, scratching his arms and legs, prompting Schultz to recommend seeking Catholic priests for an exorcism (22:10).

The Exorcism Process

Roland's parents connect with Raymond Bishop, a 43-year-old Jesuit priest, who assesses the situation as a clear case of demonic possession (30:20). Bishop, along with Father William Boudin, an experienced exorcist, undertakes a rigorous exorcism spanning several weeks:

Rituals and Prayers: The priests engage in intensive prayer sessions, sprinkling holy water and chanting Latin phrases like "Dominus" and "Percipios" (25:50).
Visible Signs: Roland exhibits disturbing physical manifestations, including deep red welts forming shapes like crosses and letters such as "HELL" on his body (28:35).
Escalation of Possession: Despite their efforts, Roland's aggression intensifies. Incidents include uncontrollable urination with an unnatural smell and graphic sexual gestures, adding layers of horror to the ordeal (32:10).

Climactic Confrontation and Apparent Resolution

After enduring relentless torment for nearly six weeks, a pivotal moment occurs during an intense exorcism session:

Baptism as a Turning Point: Father Boudin proposes baptizing Roland, believing it might weaken the demonic influence. During the baptism, Roland momentarily gains lucidity, pleading, "I can't stand it. I'm going crazy" (39:15).
Divine Intervention: As the exorcism reaches its peak, Roland cries out, "I want to receive you in Holy Communion," before a new, authoritative voice emerges: "Satan, I am Saint Michael and I command you... to leave the body in the name of Dominus" (41:00). This supernatural declaration marks the end of Roland's possession, allowing him to finally sleep peacefully.

Aftermath and Legacy

Following the exorcism, Roland appears to recover, resuming normal activities and even participating in family games. However, word of the exorcism spreads, giving rise to rumors and speculations. While some remain skeptical, attributing Roland's recovery to psychological factors or even potential fraud, others maintain that genuine supernatural forces were at play. The case's notoriety inspired William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist, cementing its place in paranormal lore.

Host Discussion: Analyzing the Possession

In the latter part of the episode, MacLeod and Brian engage in a thoughtful discussion, dissecting the plausibility and implications of Roland Doe's exorcism:

Skeptical Perspectives: Brian Sigley raises questions about the lack of corroborative evidence beyond the family's account and Bishop's diary. He muses, "It seems like this was most likely a lot of impressionable adults... or a troubled kid" (35:28).
Alternative Theories: They explore possibilities such as psychological disorders like Tourette's Syndrome, which could explain Roland's compulsive scratching and aggressive outbursts. Sigley suggests, "Maybe he was just a troublemaker and went through this exorcism, was like, ooh, I went too far" (37:00).
Ethical Considerations: The hosts highlight the need for critical examination of historical cases, emphasizing the potential for misinterpretation or embellishment without concrete evidence.
Cultural Impact: The discussion underscores how Roland Doe's story has influenced popular culture and public perception of exorcisms, despite ongoing debates about its authenticity (33:35).

Conclusion and Future Episodes

As the episode wraps up, MacLeod and Brian invite listeners to share their insights and tease the next episode, which will explore an urban legend from Ojai, California. They encourage audience engagement through social media and email, fostering a community of paranormal enthusiasts eager to uncover more mysterious tales.

Notable Quotes:

Carl Do: "I 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." (10:45)
Brian Sigley: "This was definitely kind of a more complicated one than most." (26:10)
Carl Do: "I looked evil straight in the eye and I'll do anything it takes to never, ever see it again." (40:00)

This comprehensive summary encapsulates the spine-chilling account of Roland Doe's exorcism, blending narrative storytelling with analytical discussions to provide a holistic view of one of the most debated supernatural events in modern history. Whether you're a skeptic or a believer, this episode offers a compelling exploration of faith, fear, and the unknown.

Transcript

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MacLeod (1:07)

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 MacLeod.

Brian (1:35)

And I'm Brian. And today we're taking you inside the story that inspired the biggest horror movie of all time, the Exorcist.

MacLeod (1:44)

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 Do. 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 am not. In fact, until just a few months ago, I was barely even religious. More 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 a 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 slightly 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 onto 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. At 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. So, concerned 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 and insisted he didn't cause it. Instead, he said it glided on its own, like the plan shed 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 peas. And each of them, even the psychic, looked at us like we were crazy. So we went to the last pea 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 crack. 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 Beaudern, an older man who smoked camels incessantly. Unlike Bishop, Boudin 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 Percipios. I had no idea what any of it meant, of course, but. But I'd soon later gather bits and pieces. The Lord deliver hims 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. Bodern 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. Boderne 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 dowsing. 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 Bo Durn 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, he'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 Bo Durn 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 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, Boudin 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, Boudin 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 Bo Durn 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 Boderne 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, Bodern 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. Boudin 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 bastard. Before finally mercifully falling asleep around 2:30 in the morning. Downstairs, in the ensuing silence, I asked Bo Durn 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, Boudin 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 Bo Dern'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 Boderne and Bishop piled into pry Roland off of my wife and drag him towards the church. But fearing desecration of the sanctuary, Bowdurn directed us to haul Roland up to the wreck to. 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, Bodern 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. Bodern 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. 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 Boudin said that in some cases the devil exited through urination or defecation. So Boudin pressed on with trying to give Holy Communion only to see the word hell bloom and scratches on Roland's chest. Fearing that Roland would never accept the physical wafer of Holy Communion, Boudin 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, Bourn 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, Bo Durn 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 Boderne 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.