I investigate the dead
Angela ‘Ms Crimebuster’ Mcghee investigates the mysterious circumstances of a young man’s death
T he woman on the other end of the phone sounded utterly distraught.
‘Please help me,’ she begged. ‘I think our son was murdered. I saw your profile in
True Crime magazine, and you’re the only person that can help us.’
I could hear the pain in her voice. How could I say no? So a flight was booked to Newcastle.
The night before I was due to fly to Newcastle, I had the strangest dream. Over and over, I dreamed about the illuminated right arm of a young man.
Then, on the plane, I saw it again – a vision of a right arm above the clouds.
David Mckenna, the father of the dead 22-year old man, met me at the airport. I told him about my vision.
‘That’s amazing,’ he gasped. ‘It’s all about his right arm. You see, what happened was…’
‘Don’t tell me any more!’ I warned him.
I always prefer not to be told anything, in case it influences the spirit messages I receive.
As we drove to their home, I could feel the presence of a young man next to me. He was very keen to tell me his name.
‘David, I can hear the name Baz,’ I told him. ‘He says he lives in a church! Can that really be true?’ ‘That’s my boy!’ David replied. He drove me to his home –which was attached to a church!
Baz was still with us, and as his mum, David’s wife Sheila, made me a cup of tea, I sat down with a pen and paper, writing down what Baz was saying.
Baz told me it was a heroin and alcohol overdose that had caused him to pass.
‘Baz is telling me he didn’t want to go,’ I told David and Sheila. ‘Someone else had a hand in his passing over.’
‘That’s exactly what we think,’ Sheila said. ‘We just need to know more about his last hours.’ That was what I was there for! I was led to one of Baz’s old haunts – his girlfriend’s flat in Newcastle, then on to a flat nearby. In my mind’s eye, I could see an image of an apartment above a row of shops. ‘Take me to Solway Road,’ I said to David.
‘It’s just around the corner,’ he said, surprised. We drove round – and there it was, exactly as I imagined it. This was the flat where Baz had died.
I had a vision of an arm
Vision of death
We pulled up outside, and as David rang one of Baz’s mates to get hold of the keys, Baz himself ‘showed’ me round. Sitting in the car outside, I could see his body lying on the blue patterned settee inside, next to a single armchair. His friend appeared, and jumped into the car to hand over the keys. He was dishevelled and gaunt - and as he spoke, I knew he was hiding something. ‘He’s covering up for someone,’ I said to David once he’d left.
The three of us walked up the stairs into the flat. I could ‘see’ Baz himself, staggering ahead on what was his final visit to this flat.
The flat was exactly as I’d seen it. Baz was lying on the settee, with the mate I’d just met sitting next to him.
But there was another lad there, sitting in the single armchair.
I could see Baz's right arm had been raised. The lad was leaning down, injecting him with a fatal dose of heroin…
I described the boy to David. ‘Mousy-coloured hair, slim, wearing a beige-and-brown chequered baseball cap, a blue bomber jacket and jeans. He looks younger than the young man we’ve just left.’
‘That sounds like his younger brother,’ David replied thoughtfully.
It was this lad who had killed their son, whether he’d meant to or not.
By now, I was completely drained and my spirit guides were leaving me.
Before we left, David gently stroked the arm of the settee on which his son had died. I could sense his longing, his wish that he, too, could feel his beloved son’s spirit.
Back at their home,
we looked through some old photographs. I felt that Baz was very keen to cheer his parents up.
Baz’s spirit was lively, showing me photos of him and his mates on holiday in Ibiza and telling me their names. ‘Bonna. Campbell. Sully.’ I could tell that he’d been a bubbly, popular young man. This was his true personality. He spoke of his funeral, how touched he’d been by the huge turnout. ‘Bonna in a suit!’ he told me, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. I relayed this to David, who laughed. ‘It was the first fifirst time Bonna had ever worn a suit,’ he said. ‘Baz would have been very amused.’ ‘He says, “Tell my dad I love him,”’ I said softly to David. His eyes filled with tears. ‘Come on, I’d best be dropping you back at the airport,’ he said. As we drove to the airport, David said, ‘What would you prefer, Angela – a Jaguar, Bentley or Rolls-royce?’ ‘Er – Rolls-royce,’ I replied, confused. ‘What colour?’ David asked me. ‘Gold,' I answered. 'Why?’ ‘You’re coming back to Newcastle,’ he told me, ‘And when you do, I’ll chauffeur you around in a gold Rolls-royce. It’s the least I can do!’ And a few months later, he did just that!
It’s incredibly painful to lose a child, but at least I was able to give Sheila and David some closure. Sheila told me that the young man I met in the car had confirmed that his brother had also been there when Baz died.
As for Baz, his case has a special place in my heart. I know that, now, he works with the spirits of young men, helping them communicate with their loved ones. With his bubbly personality, he’s perfect for that role. May his good work continue.