Subj: 4                     2/3      Conf: (195) UFO
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
>>> Continued from previous message
The possibilities of this childlike rubbish are endless. Every
dream, every small family crisis, every strange sound, every odd
piece of behaviour by their pets, even a lightbulb blowing, becomes a
sign of alien intervention. The Andrews family became instant
converts.
'Suddenly, it all made sense,' said Ann. 'We knew we had found the
answer.'
What she had found was an elaborate potpourri of pseudo- scientific
mumbo-jumbo, invented by largely harmless obsessives, that has
become a flourishing industry in the Western world.
They contacted one of the leading British 'authorities' on this
phenomenon, an agency called Quest, and were eagerly welcomed to the
fold by Tony Dodd, a retired Yorkshire policeman who styles himself
Director of Investigations.
For Dodd the Andrews family were the find of a lifetime. He became
their guru and protector. Using the gaudy terminology of the genre,
he explained each of Jason's symptoms and instructed them what to
look out for.
Above all, he told them they were special, chosen people. Nobody had
ever done that before with the Andrews. It was like the opening of
floodgates. Ann, who had never felt any connection to all this,
suddenly began to remember childish visions, which eventually led to
a whole slew of 'recovered memories', including the miscarriage
induced by aliens.
The family attended UFO conferences and soaked up the lore of it
all. Ann began to see the faces of the aliens herself, drew pictures
of them, and began a diary of invasion. By the time Ritchie stumbled
upon the story the entire family were already well- read in every
facet of alienism.
They became convinced that Government scientists were removing their
dead animals, that the council was conspiring against them and that
strange military activity was taking place in a nearby Territorial
Army base. They began to produce endless anecdotal evidence that
their isolated farm was surrounded by strange forces which had the
power to immobilise their animals and geese into living statues.
After this came a series of mutilations to their horses.
ONE horse was discovered to have a large flap of skin hanging loose.
But there was no blood or damage to the tissue and the animal wasin
no discomfort.
'The vet said he had never seen anything like it,' said Paul
Andrews. 'And he was able to stitch the flap back without sedating
the animal'
At another time they noticed that all their horses had become lame
in the same back leg. 'There were little round boles that seemed to
have been punched into the flesh,' said Ann. 'Again the horses
didn't seem to be suffering.'
The Quest investigators loved all this. Animal mutilation is a major
issue for them. It proves, for them, that aliens are testing for
toxins in living creatures.
One day the family found four dead mice laid out in a neat row near
the gate to the farm, each one with a tiny hole in it's skull. This,
ironically is the only hard piece of evidence the family have ever
produced. And they are very proud or the snapshot of the dead mice.
Ritchie could find no chink in it- because there was none. An entire
family was by now immersed in what the psychologists call passive
group hysteria, and the fact that they could produce not a single
tape recording, photograph of the 'visitors', or physical injury was
explained away by the common response: the aliens were so far
advanced in technology that they could do anything.
Ritchie did try to contact the medical and school authorities, but
got nowhere. She talks of Jason's medical records, but she didn't
actually see them; she only saw the notes which his mother had made
from them.
After months practically living with the family, Ritchie produced
her 80,000-word blockbuster. She, too, is now part of their world
her next book will be into other aspects of alien intervention.
It may be impossible to expose an illusion-but it is easy enough to
see the essential silliness that lies at the heart of it. All you
have to do is spend some time with the boy himself sitting in the
tiny wooden shed at the farm where some of these strange events
happened, I put him through his paces and the whole charade began to
collapse.
In two hours of questioning he rarely gave a full answer. Within
moments of our interview beginning both his mother and Jean Ritchie
were jumping in.
When I quoted specific incidents In the book, in which he talks in
great detail, he faltered repeatedly, and each time the two women
moved in with answers: 'Don't you remember, Jason, that was the time
you saw the one you called the Monk,' says his mum. 'The one with
the hood.'
'You saw the Instruments in his hands, didn't you Jason?' suggests
Ritchie. Again and again, under prompting, he tried his best. 'Yeah.
uh, like I remember seeing the Monk, with a sorts hood thing. I
sensed he was wise, you now ... oh could see something in his hand.'
Again and again he missed his cue. Did you feel any pain when you
woke with the scars in your body? He looked blank for a moment, then
finally decided to ignore the question. We looked at each other in
silence. I felt sorry for him.
Eventually he began to run out of answers of any detail at all. From
then on his only reply to any of my questions was: 'I, uh, don't
remember things too clearly. That's why I always run into my Mum's
room and tell her to write it all down. She knows it all.' And he
looked at her pleadingly.
Did you hear them speaking? 'You think you hear things. Sometimes I
hear some funny voices ... coming from somewhere ... like, uh, I'm
thinking things in my head ...'
Jean Ritchie breaks in, reminding him that they use telepathy. This
was allegedly the same boy who, in the book, can give this kind of
descriptive detail. 'There is a pattern to the bad nights, the
nights when things happen to me ...
'I've got a very good alarm clock, a state-of-the- digital one, and
it always stops at 3am. That's the time it happens... I always try
to go back to sleep, in the hope that nothing will happen, but then
I see something almost out of the corner of my eye.
'It rises up through the floor. It's a big one. There's only ever
one a big one. It's about 5ft 4in tall, just a bit shorter than me.
THE head is large, with big black eyes on a slant which go round the
side of the head, and a very small nose and mouth
'It's thin, and it has the long, dark fingers that I remember from my
baby days ... I'm aware of the little ones. I never see where they
come from, they're Just there ... They scuttle around. busy, busy,
busy, they never stay still.
'Sometimes they bring some other creatures with them. I call them
koalas because they are small and furry like bears ...'
>>> Continued to next message
 * SLMR 2.1a * You don't fool me!  You're not REALLY an idiot!         f
--- FMail 1.22
---------------