In this sequence of posts, we share “the confrontation” that took place on Thursday, January 19, 2023. Since that day as far as we know, no one has had a conversation of any length with our son, Patrick, or the doppelgänger, Mikhail, that has taken his place. While on many days, we exchange pleasantries and we at times get direct answers to direct questions, he only talks, laughs, cries, and spends time with his spirit friends.
Prior to this episode, Patrick had spent days alone in his room. We didn’t know precisely what was happening with him, but we knew he was depressed and struggling with a form of psychosis. He had broken things off with his girlfriend over Christmas and none of us could understand why that had taken place. They had been happy and there didn’t appear to be a reason for the break-up. Patrick would need medical assistance, if he could be convinced of it. In the meantime, each of us was somewhat prepared for what was coming. We knew that with someone suffering from psychosis, it was best to avoid contradicting their delusions when possible.
It was 10:30am and cold outside. I was on a conference call in the home office. Mary was untrimming the Christmas tree in our family room. Its empty, green, artificial fir loomed over what was to come. Ornament boxes were spread out across the carpet, ready to be packed away for another year in red and green plastic bins destined for the garage.
Patrick erupted from his room. I heard voices raised, but I didn’t know why or anticipate how bad things would become. Patrick shouted at Mary, claiming that he had been bound and cursed as a child. Then, he laid his hands on her, attempting what we can only surmise was his own form of exorcism. Mary began to weep. Fortunately, at that moment Amanda entered the house. She saw what was happening and pulled me from my call.
Exiting my office, I immediately saw that Patrick wanted a confrontation, and I asked him if we could make a video recording. He didn’t argue, in fact he insisted on it.
Mary and I sat in our usual seats on the sofa, trying to remain calm, knowing that we were in store for something awful. Amanda, stood stock still near the entryway to the foyer, readied for a quick exit, but also situated to avoid presenting a unified front to what was to come. She held her hands in the pockets of her sweater, her head lowered. In one pocket, she gently rubbed a small, smooth stone. In the past, it has helped her remain calm.
Patrick was in his Seahawks Christmas pajamas, blue and green plaid, and hadn’t shaved or showered in many days. His hair was unkempt, but he likes to wear it that way. He was upset and agitated, pacing back and forth in front of us.
Mikhail claimed, because it was no longer Patrick, but Mikhail who was now fully in control, that he wanted us to admit to “the truth” that, according to him, his father was possessed by a demon and had cast spells upon our friends, neighbors, and family, most notably Patrick in order to steal their gifts from them.
The day went downhill from there. What follows is a comprehensive recounting.