What Really Happens Behind the Scenes
Why would a seasoned homicide captain—or a sitting judge—risk their career to listen to a psychic?
That question has followed me for years. And it’s not just about what others believe—it's about why they believe. Why some people are willing to act on instinct, even when it defies convention… and why others freeze.
Years ago, I was invited by a psychiatrist to read for his clients. I’d give readings in his office, record them on audiotape, and hand them to the client to review in session. We were curious, not just about insight, but about human behavior. At the end of each day, we’d talk: Why do some people carry broken trust so deeply that they can't take a first step toward change? And why do others—with just as much trauma—still try again?
We always came back to this: self-awareness and the courage to act on it. The ability to recognize a feeling—fear or love—and to choose love, even when fear makes more sense on paper.
That kind of clarity is what I’ve witnessed over and over again from the people I’ve worked with—not just clients, but professionals in law enforcement and the courts. People you’d never expect to follow a hunch from a psychic.
Take, for example, the judge who issued the first bench warrant under New Jersey’s new parental abduction law. On January 15, 1981, President Carter signed the bill that made parental abduction a felony. A few months before that, a father took his three children and disappeared, violating a court order in New Jersey.
The sheriff’s investigator on the case, Lou Masterbone, came to me for help with the mother. I shared what I saw. He brought that information to the judge.
The judge issued the warrant. And those children were found and returned to their mother.
It was a bold move. And it made legal history.
Years later, after the judge had retired, I met with him and asked, “Why did you take that risk? You could have lost your judgeship.”
He didn’t hesitate.
"Three missing children are more important than my job as a judge," he said.
That moment stayed with me. So did the others—like working with homicide detectives who were open enough to try anything that might bring resolution. One of those detectives was Captain George Duechar, who I worked with on a murder case featured in a documentary.
During a break in filming, I asked him, “George, why do you believe in me so strongly?”
He reminded me of something I’d forgotten:
"Remember when I asked you about another case, and you said, ‘I get nothing’? That’s why I believe you. You don’t force it. You tell the truth—even if it’s nothing."
That’s the real work. It’s not about theatrics or certainty. It’s about listening, being honest, and stepping in with care when it matters.
When I first started doing this work in Budd Lake, New Jersey, I was asked to attend the police academy as an auxiliary. The chief didn’t want me pretending to be a secretary anymore just to justify my presence. I took an oath of confidentiality and removed the number from my door and mailbox. We learned quickly—especially after a snowstorm when someone was mistakenly given directions to my home—that privacy could be a matter of safety, not just formality.
All of these experiences are part of what led me to write The Life of a Psychic Detective. It’s not just about cases—it’s about the people behind them. The ones who dare to listen to something deeper. The ones who risk being misunderstood in service of something greater.
Each of us has a different language we speak when we try to help others. Whether you use intuition, facts, faith, or your own lived experience, it’s all part of the same impulse: to make the world just a little better.
If you’ve ever felt called to act—even when it didn’t make logical sense—I wrote this for you.
