I’m Adam and I’m the Team Leader with Forest Paranormal Investigations.
I have worked in the field of the paranormal for over 10 years now. I am most definitely a techy, gadget parageek and love to utilize the latest in electrical wizardry in our hunt for the paranormal. I have worked as an Electronics Technician for 18 years of my life so I’m sure I have a good excuse!!!
My Father and Grandfather were both early pioneers of infrared spirit photography from the 1950s. They would often be invited to séances where they would record audio and take photographs with infrared Kodak film. When my father died in 2011, I had the colossal task of clearing out a lifetime of his belongings. He was a legendary horder so it was quite a task…Amongst his belongings I found old DAT tapes of trance mediums working at séances and some incredible pictures of ectoplasmic manifestations taken with their early adapted cameras. They were truly the Ghostbusters of yesteryear and the paranormal obviously runs thick in my blood.
My Grandfather, John Llewellyn on the right My Father at a séance in the 1950s
A series of 3 photographs taken by my Father at a séance during the 1960s showing a face materialising in a completely darkened room
Me and my brother, Zane. I’m the serious one on the right
I was a bit of a misfit as a kid. When I was 8 years old my favourite books were The Hammer House of Horror and Dracula. I can remember regularly visiting the local library and always making a beeline for the “Occult and Supernatural” section. I would feed my fragile eggshell mind with stories of ghosts, goblins, vampires, werewolves and witches. I was most certainly a very inquisitive child and was always asking questions, so much so, that it was suggested that there was something wrong with me! I was taken to a child psychologist who, after an in depth dialogue (where I asked more questions than he did) it was concluded that I was just a very intelligent young man who had to know the answers to everything! I’m sure in this day and age they would have diagnosed and labelled me with any number of different mental illnesses but I simply prefer the moniker of “intelligent”.
In 1980, at this very tender age, my grandmother died, after a long, hospitalized illness. We had visited her often during this time, but it was her funeral that was to have a profound effect on me. She was cremated, and it was at this time that David Bowie’s “Ashes to Ashes” was high in the charts. As I watched the polished wooden coffin disappear behind the final curtain destined for the all-consuming flames I heard the haunting lyrics playing in my head…a head that was suddenly filled with questions. I wondered where the energy of that once vibrant woman had gone. Obviously it was not consumed amongst the flames. It had to go somewhere surely? I’m certain this experience played a large role in the birth of the paranormal investigator and, to this day, that song sends a shiver down my spine…
I can remember seeing my grandmother quite regularly after that. In fact, I can remember seeing many strange things as a child. Otherworldly figures that would appear and disappear in an instant. There were so many that I began to give them names. I would often scare my little brother by saying that there was a face staring at us from the window or a “hairy man” watching us from the garden only for him to disappear into thin air. Years later my mother would tell me a story lost somewhere deep in my memories. I would often run into my parent’s room crying and scared saying that “the lady is in our bedroom watching us again”. My mother would try to placate my fears by saying that it was just her checking in on us, to which I would reply “But mum, you can’t walk through walls!” Whether this all was just the over active imagination of an “intelligent” child or something supernatural I do not know. I do believe that children experience more of the paranormal than adults. Perhaps it is because they are closer to that dimension or perhaps because their brains run in the “alpha” cycle more than we adults (a brain cycle said to enhance psychic abilities). I do believe that we are brainwashed away from this magic during our lives by the deluge of information telling us that it’s simply not true, that it doesn’t exist. Perhaps we shut ourselves down to this part of our minds and the veil that divides our worlds thickens making it so much harder to see through. Perhaps we can reawaken this dormant part of our minds again if we simply believe?
My brother and I had a very difficult childhood. Our father most definitely walked the fine line between madman and genius. He was quite simply the cleverest man I have ever known but had a much darker side. He knew absolutely everything about everything but would always have that crazy look in his eye. He would change in an instant. He could be impatiently explaining something to you and, in the blink of an eye, would explode in an absolute inferno of rage. He was later diagnosed as having a “personality disorder”. Living with him was like living in a minefield. You simply didn’t know what you were walking into next. Years later a medium would tell me that this would be a hugely contributory factor to what she believed to be my “psychic ability”. The fact that I would always have to gauge the mood of the house, without asking, would open the psychic synaptic links in my mind enabling me to pick up or feel the unknown without even trying. My constantly questioning mind always challenges this of course, although I am very intuitive and have had some very interesting experiences on subsequent investigations.
Many of you may find this hard to believe but my grandfather on my mother’s side was a minister of the Plymouth Brethren. An extremely strict religious order that emphasizes “sola scriptura”, the belief that the Bible is the supreme authority for church doctrine and practice over tradition. This obviously had a profound effect on my mother’s religious beliefs and, consequently, my brother and I were dragged to church every Sunday without fail. Dressed up under the name of “Sunday School” (a name that automatically instils an aversion to it) I grew to pathologically hate the church on every level. Couple this with my difficult childhood and throw in a sudden and profound love of heavy metal and you can guess what happens next… Here heralds the birth of the “Devilman”…
I can remember watching the video to Iron Maiden’s “Number of the Beast” on Top of the Pops at the time. The clips from all the classic old horror movies as the bands’ singer Bruce Dickinson screamed out “666, The Number of the Beast”. It was love at first sight… I immersed myself in the darker side of the Universe. I would constantly listen to Thrash and Death Metal. I would read Alaister Crowley, Anton Lavey and Carlos Casteneda. Books on the supernatural, witchcraft, Satanism, Shamanism and the Occult. I would revile the church and would eventually turn their crosses towards Hell. This was more than just a natural rebellion, this became a way of life. My bedroom walls were adorned with band posters and Satanic symbols and imagery. I can remember that, at the time, we had a deeply religious woman who would, twice weekly, clean our house. She would refuse to enter my den of iniquity, claiming it to be “The Devil’s Playground”. My mother was, of course, concerned for the welfare of my soul but I knew better…“Do what though wilt shall be the whole of the Law”. I have no doubt in my mind that this time of my life brought me closer to the darker nature of things. Perhaps it even opened me up to entities of a more “interesting” vibration. All I will say is that it was an inspiring and extremely mind opening path in my existence and that it still follows me to this day…
In my late teenage years and under constant pressure at home I did what most other people do, I left home and got a job. I guess it was time to grow up a little. I settled down and bought a house. At the age of 26 I became a father to my beautiful daughter Taz. The house she grew up in was a strange one. Built in 1888, it had a very unusual energy. I remember being awoken one night to find the figure of a tall man in a top hat standing over the bed. I must admit I panicked and switched the bedside light on only for him to disappear. Over the coming years stranger things began to happen. I was not the only one to see this very same figure. Guests would also see it. People would stay over and their belongings would disappear, particularly the female’s makeup. I was worried that they would think I was a secret cross dresser and was particularly embarrassed when, days later, the items would mysteriously reappear stacked up neatly on the coffee table, a particular trait that I have since learned to be that of a poltergeist. The house suffered from the usual things that go bump in the night but I remember one night in particular when I was awoken to an incredible din from downstairs. I thought that someone had broken in and, grabbing the nearest weapon I could find, a baseball bat that I kept under the bed for such occasions, I rushed downstairs. I stood outside the living room door with a trembling hand on the door handle. Flinging the door open, the sound immediately silenced and I was greeted by a quiet, ordinary room. Confused, I turned, only to hear the television burst into life of its’ own accord. A very strange night indeed. I remember another evening when I witnessed a candle stick move a full 30cms across window ledge in plain view.
At the time I knew of a local medium who I subsequently called in an effort to explain some of this unusual phenomenon. She visited, one cold winter’s day, and immediately entering the house sensed a very negative entity. She moved from room to room and eventually froze at the top of the stairs. She sensed the presence of a tall man in a hat and was immediately wracked by fear. She said that he had committed the most heinous crime on this very spot and had pushed a woman to her death down these very stairs. She left soon afterwards leaving me with a mixture of feelings and, of course, many more questions. Not long after that I sold the house and moved on. Strangely, an old school friend moved into the house many years later and experienced very similar phenomena, including the sight of the tall man in the hat. Obviously a very restless spirit, possibly wracked with guilt over his terrible crime…
I spent a very confusing time in life after that. In the year 2000 my parents divorced and, not long after that I ended a 9 year relationship with the mother of my daughter. I drifted, not quite knowing my place in the world. I even spent some of that time homeless, relying on friends, families, cars and sofas for a place to rest my head. I lived for a number of months during the cold winter sleeping on a camp bed in a friend’s living room. He was a postman and, when he would leave for work at 4 in the morning I would jump into his recently vacated bed just to get some warmth. It was a very strange and eye opening time in my life.
During this time I would take my mother to a clairvoyant circle in Monmouth. She hated driving at night and I reluctantly became her chaperone for the evenings. It was on one such evening that I met a very well-known local medium and she and I hit it off immediately. She ran a local development circle and invited me to go along. I remember turning up with an open mind and over the coming years developed a close relationship with the group and its’ leader. We worked closely together and I even spent 8 months living in her garden in an old American RV. I organised clairvoyant events for her and built up a thriving business in the esoterical. We travelled around the country holding evenings of clairvoyance and I became her right hand man. It was during this time that we hit upon the idea of forming a paranormal investigation team. “Spectraquest” was born with my clairvoyant friend dealing with the mediumship and I with the dubious title of “Technical Resource Manager”. Over the coming years we ran events and investigated some of the most “haunted” venues this country has to offer. My understanding of the paranormal increased and I immersed myself into the field completely. I worked with some of the more famous names on the circuit and found a renewed vigour for life. I had finally found my vocation. I became adept at the technical side of the paranormal, not a million miles away from the alarm systems and computers I had worked on during my career.
The early days of Spectraquest and working with Richard Felix
We eventually set up a small local shop dealing in new age items and things of an esoterical nature. It was while working here that, one day, my life would change completely. One afternoon, much like any other, a strange, beautiful and crazy woman bounded into the shop. She said her name was Paula Meek and asked if I would I stock a number of Vampire novels she had written? We spent an hour together and talked of everything. She bounced around the shop with boundless enthusiasm and I scratched my head, wondering why I was strangely mesmerised by this woman.
She eventually left in the whirlwind she had arrived in and I was left breathless. We had without doubt shared a connection and over the coming weeks I would often find my mind turning back to that moment. Paula had told me she was a keen cyclist and I, stupidly had expressed an interest in improving my health by taking up the hobby up myself…but I didn’t have a bike. The weeks rolled by without occurrence when one day, out of the blue the phone rang. It was Paula…”I know this sounds a bit forward…” she said….”shit she’s going to ask me out” I thought, “…but would you like a mountain bike, a friend of mine is giving one away”. I agreed while she stood true to her word and organized the bike for me. We stayed in touch over the coming weeks with my feeble attempts at cycling being the excuse. She would occasionally visit me at my flat in town and we would find ourselves talking for hours about spiritualism, the occult and the paranormal. Little did I know it but I was definitely falling for this girl.
I eventually plucked up the courage to ask her out one evening and, the rest as they say, is history. Under a starry sky, with the International Space Station gently floating by I fell head over heels in love with her. We connected on every level. She is my soul mate, the light to my darkness and the missing part to the jigsaw that is my life.
Paula and I enjoying a common passion….paranormal investigation
Paula moved in practically immediately. It was a natural progression and we both fell into a beautiful lifestyle together. Now, the flat we lived in was a very strange building indeed. I had always felt the presence of some other-worldly being present. We would often hear disembodied footsteps walking across the floor. Doors would open and shut by themselves. The TV and stereo would switch on by themselves and things would often disappear only to reappear mysteriously in another part of the building with no explanation. Paula, already a supernatural author had a similar interest as my own in the paranormal. In light of the growing phenomena in the flat I decided to introduce her to the Ghostbox. This piece of equipment needs no introduction and over the coming months we amassed some incredible evidence using it. The results of this can be seen in our “Ghostbox Sessions” video on our YouTube page. These sessions truly opened Paula’s eyes to the world of spirit communication. She became as hooked as I was.
I went through a period of study in life and after a rigorous course in France I was bestowed with the title of Master Practitioner of Neuro Linguistic Programming, hypnosis and Spectrum Therapy. I worked for some time for the charity Talking2Minds, a cause set up to treat the symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder in ex military. It was hugely rewarding to see the results achieved over a short period of time for these fallen heroes.
For reasons best left unsaid I fell out with my clairvoyant friend and left her employ on a bitter note. I was told I would never work in the field of the paranormal again….Never say this to a determined Scorpio male such as myself. I immediately decided to readdress the balance. Four friends came together with a common interest in the paranormal and Forest Paranormal Investigations was born.
Over the coming months we amassed a wealth of equipment, experience and media material. On November 5th, my 40th birthday, we pressed the launch button. The defiant bastard monster that was FPI was unleashed upon an unexpecting world. We had the experience, commitment and resources available to stand defiant in the wealth of adversity that we encountered in those early days. We investigated everywhere and on a weekly basis. Our exuberance and raw energy was unsurpassed. Within months we had chalked up more results than some teams had taken years to find. We approached the paranormal from an entirely different angle. Four very strong-minded individuals with a common quest to uncover the truth regardless of the consequences. Another case of history in the making. At the root cause of our ethos was a mixture of spirituality and technology. We would debunk everything leaving no stone unturned until we were left with that grey area known as the paranormal.
Serious Tech at St Briavels Castle
Our results spoke for themselves with some stating that “the ghosts seem to follow us around.” It was at St Briavels castle that by coincidence one afternoon we bumped into a fellow paranormal enthusiast Ross Andrews. Ross was already an accomplished paranormal author with a string of successful books on the subject under his belt. He agreed to let us come along and help out at his next event which proved to be a great success. His support during our early days was incredible and we cannot thank him enough. Ross went on to feature us on stage at the Cheltenham Paranormal Festival where we delivered a fine performance and went on to meet CJ Romer, an acclaimed and televised expert in the field. It turned out that he had already heard of our success, was a regular visitor to our website and wanted to get involved with anything we had planned for the future. In early 2011 FPI hosted a charity event at the famous Woodchester Mansion. With the help of the Scream Team over £2,500 was raised for Cancer Research and an enjoyable night was had by all.
Riding high on my experiences it was in 2011 that my world fell apart. My father was already very ill and approaching the end of a 10 year battle with prostate cancer. I became his primary carer and spent most days with him. After an intervention from Paula and after 41 long years we eventually put our guns down. We became very close and it is with deep regret that I realised it had taken my whole lifetime to attain this. However it was the night of June 3rd 2011 that would change all of our lives’ forever.
My brother Zane had been rushed into hospital with a sudden and unexpected illness a week previously and on that terrible night we were called with the news that he had taken a turn for the worse. His partner of 17 years and I rushed to the ICU of Gloucester Royal to find him on a bed hooked up to machines and with a drip in his arm. I don’t think any of us believed he was in any real danger, perhaps we were in denial. I remember looking at him and, with hope enough for the both of us, I raised a thumb to him in an effort to convey to him that everything was going to be alright. He looked back at me and raised a thumb also. It was the last gesture I would see from him. We were huddled off to a small family room and were told that they had to sedate him, a tube in his throat to help him breathe. A doctor came in and I remember him telling us that Zane was “at a very sticky wicket”. I shall always remember those words. At 3am in the morning I drove the longest drive of my life. I arrived at my mother’s at 3.30am with the news that she should come with me to the hospital. No man or mother should have to experience that.
Zane battled away in whatever world he was in for the rest of the next day. We sat with him and held his hand, totally believing that he would wake up soon and smile his beautiful smile. At 8 o’ clock that evening the doctors took us into an office and told us that there was little else they could do. Paula held my hand, my rock as always. We were given the terrible choice to carry on with little or no hope or turn off the machines and let him fade away. We chose the latter. 14 weeks previously Zane had become the father of a beautiful baby girl and she was immediately brought to the hospital. As she lay on his unconscious form, the machines breathing for him we all silently cursed the injustice of it all. We sat around him in disbelief as they turned off the life support. Zane and I had always had a common love of the band The Doors and in his final moments we shared a headphone earpiece each and listened to “The End”. “This is the End, beautiful friend, this is the End, my only friend the End”. As we watched the digital display of his pulse slowly drop I held my brothers hand in one and my mothers in the other. He slowly slipped away into oblivion and at 9.32pm was pronounced dead. The nurses removed the tubes and wires from his body and I remember vividly entering the room where he lay and kissed him on the forehead. He was so cold. I had spent his whole life looking out for him, fighting his battles for him but I had failed him in his final battle. I felt useless and lost. I remember going home to catch a few hours sleep and waking in Paula’s arms. I have never cried as hard as I did that morning. Over 250 people attended Zane’s funeral. He was a beautiful soul, a Light, Love and a true Legend…
My lovely brother, Zane and his daughter, Poppy
As my father was so ill he was not allowed into the ICU on the day of Zane’s death and the next day I faced the dreadful task of telling him that his younger son had died. I watched his heart break and there was nothing I could do. I remember now the lowest single moment of my life. My father was very ill and was vomiting into a sink and, as I held his hair back for him, I looked down at his suffering and apologised that I had to leave to make funeral arrangements for his son, my brother. I truly believe that at that moment every drop of spirituality left me.
Over the next 4 weeks his health declined and eventually we were called into another hospital with news that another Heath was facing the end of days. My father was heavily sedated and we were told that he would not regain consciousness. In abject denial I knew that he would. I sat by his bedside every day, returning home to catch a few hours sleep when I could. One morning I walked into the private room to find my father sat up and looking at me. He had lost the ability to speak but there he was looking back at me, fully conscious and aware of me in the room. He spent the next three hours with my mother and I before he slipped back into the darkness. Within those three hours I watched as my mother and father forgave each other and fell in love again. My father would stare at the end of the bed as if surrounded by unseen faces, mouthing silent word to the congregation. He would then turn completely introspective and continue some animated dialogue with something in his mind. He would eventually come back to our world and look up at me with love and acceptance in his eyes. I looked down at him then and said “You’ve got all the answers now dad”, he simply took my hand and pointed knowingly at the bottom of the bed as if to say “It’s all there, can’t you see it?”
A very strange thing happened on the day of my father’s death. Months earlier I had purchased tickets for the Sonisphere Rock Festival. The Big Four, Megadeth, Anthrax, Slayer and Metallica were playing for the first time on one stage and I simply had to be there. My father was hanging on and with a heavy heart on July 8th Paula and I left for the weekend festival. Before I left I said goodbye to dad and jokingly told him to hang on until I got back. Sadly it was to be our final farewell. At 1pm as we arrived at the festival campsite I received the call from my mother that dad had passed away moments earlier. It was expected but devastating nonetheless.
Now my father and I shared a love/hate relationship for the band Slayer. I loved them and he hated them. They have been, and very probably always will be, my favourite band. As they took to the stage at 7.30 that evening I could almost hear my father’s voice from years earlier telling me to “turn that shit down!” The weekend came and went. We enjoyed it as best we could celebrating the lives of our fallen and departed. It was only when we returned home that something very odd transpired. I had taken my phone to the festival to keep in touch with mum but, generally, it had sat redundant in my pocket the whole weekend. On returning home I was surprised to find that it had taken a serious of photographs inside my pocket on the night of my father’s death. I flicked through a series of twelve photographs taken from the inside of my pocket. The first 4 were a blank, black screen but the fifth and sixth pictures left me speechless. There, on the screen, taken at precisely the moment Slayer had taken to the stage, was a black background with a perfect love heart in white. The remaining six pictures were once again a blank screen. My rational mind searched through the phone for the capability to do this. Perhaps some emoticon for texting purposes. I drew a blank. A google search later revealed that there was no such function on that particular model of phone. I can only assume that this was a message of love sent from my father and my brother. If anyone could do it they could. It still amazes me to this day.
In that incredible feat of love my belief returned. I am a great believer that even in the darkest of times something positive can be attained. As terrible as that time in our lives was it has made me stronger and more resolute in my quest to find answers to the mysteries of life after life.
In the coming months I inherited an old barn that my father had attempted to renovate. He had partially completed the task before he was denied his dream by several objectionable neighbours and the local planning committee. Before he had died I had promised him that I would do my best to accomplish his dream. Everyone said that we would never live there. After a combination of shrewd manoeuvres and good fortune we gained permission to finish the job and eventually live there. A year and a half out of my life and after several gallons of blood, sweat and tears that wonderful old building has become our home.
That pretty much brings everything up to date. FPI goes from strength to strength. In a little over three years we have racked up over 120 investigations. We have appeared on two episodes of Great British Ghosts with Michaela Strachen. We have featured in numerous local tabloids including two front page stories and have been interviewed by BBC radio. We have now become a real power player in the world of the paranormal. With over 25 years’ experience between us of actual hands-on working in the field we have become the number one choice for events, media and professional investigation.
We approach the subject professionally and objectively. We cover every angle, debunk the necessary and scratch beneath the surface of the results we attain. We present the evidence and leave it up to you to make up your own mind. In this game there will always be believers, there will always be skeptics. There will be those who want to be scared and those who want to prove a point. There will be those who simply want to be entertained. Some will require enlightenment, some will just want to come along for the ride. We have to cater for all. Perhaps the strangest thing about the paranormal is that there is no definitive answer. Most phenomena can be explained by natural, scientific reason but there will always be that grey area. The area that you can’t quite put your finger on. The one that defies rational explanation. Perhaps we will never have the answers. Perhaps, like my father, it will take the end of our days to provide them. I do know that we will always endeavour to uncover as much of the truth as we can with the time that we have left.
I hope this has given you an insight into my life and my interest in the paranormal. This is my journey so far. Who knows what lies ahead? One day I know I shall pass through that thin veil, joining the loved ones that seemed so far away just a single breath ago and I shall truly have all the answers myself…