The Psychic Adventures of Derek Acorah: Star of TV’s Most Haunted

Jack the Ripper

The East End of London in the late nineteenth century was one of the most disreputable areas of the city and the Whitechapel district was witness to a series of horrible murders. It was to be the job of the ISPR team to uncover the identity of the murderer, who was known only as ‘Jack the Ripper’.

Donald Rumbelow, historian and Ripper expert, was invited to join the team on their investigation. Although Jack the Ripper has been ‘credited’ with the murder of six women at different locations, we would be visiting just two of those murder sites. It would be Donald’s job to authenticate any information the team members might produce.

The first place the team was taken to was Mitre Square. Today this is a pleasant flagged area where people may sit and enjoy a sandwich during a summer lunch break. Along one side of the square runs a schoolyard in which children play. However, the cheery sounds of a lunchtime game of football faded as I concentrated on opening myself up to the energies of the infamous events which had taken place over a century earlier.

I allowed myself to drift back in time. The April sunshine disappeared as the square darkened and it became nighttime. It was quiet, though I could hear shouting and merriment coming from a nearby hostelry. A woman’s raucous laughter echoed out of the darkness. The name ‘Catherine’ came into my mind. Clairvoyantly, I could see a woman dressed in dark shabby clothing. Wisps of greying hair could be seen straying from underneath a greasy bonnet. She had the raddled features of somebody who is no stranger to drink. I knew that she was a victim of the infamous Jack the Ripper and that Catherine was her name.

As I allowed myself to come forward to the present, I noticed a bench not six feet away from me. I walked over and touched it. ‘This is the spot!’ I shouted to Dr Montz. ‘This is where Catherine’s life was taken from her.’

Although the bench had been placed in the square at a much later date, I was able to use it to pick up on the residual energies of the woman’s dying moments. I could feel the dread and heart-stopping fear she had experienced. I was overcome by the stench of blood and something which I could not describe but which was horrible and offensive. I could also tell Dr Montz that Catherine had not been the first of this vile creature’s victims. By the time he met her, Jack the Ripper was a seasoned killer.

As I stood contemplating the spot, I became aware of another name. ‘Lily—Elizabeth!’ I said. ‘She was a victim too. There were two killings and both on the same night!’ I could sense the slashing of the victims’ bodies as they were disembowelled and butchered.

Donald confirmed that on the night of 30 September 1888 both Catherine Eddowes and Elizabeth Stride had fallen victim to London’s most famous serial killer. He had viciously killed and brutalized their bodies.

Then Donald guided us to another area. He stopped at a place called Durward Street. ‘This was Buck’s Row,’ he told us and stood back expectantly waiting to hear what we had to say.

I allowed myself to drift back in time once more. The small area of rough ground where I was standing bore no resemblance to the picture which unfolded before my eyes. Now it is a concrete jungle with high-rise flats and flagstones sprouting tufts of grass. There is a graffitiscarred concrete garage next to a fence with a wooden gate hanging off its hinges.

I was drawn to this break in the fence and as I walked over to it I could smell the same revolting odours which had assaulted my nostrils in Mitre Square. This time I could see the body of a rather stocky dark-haired woman; her clothes were obviously filthy but appeared to be soaked in blood. Her face was slashed and I could see that one of her ears was hanging off. In stark contrast, on the floor not far from her body lay what appeared to be a shiny black straw hat. I was impressed to utter the name ‘Nicholas’. Could this be the name of the murderer? The name ‘Polly’ was also strongly evident to me.

As I allowed myself to drift back to the present day, I relayed the picture I had seen to Dr Montz and Mr Rumbelow. They confirmed that it was in the area of the gateway that the body of a woman called Polly was found.

‘Can you describe the person responsible for the murders?’ Dr Montz asked me.

‘I feel that there were two people responsible,’ I said. ‘I believe that there was a “copy cat murder”. The man responsible for most of the murders is tall and slim—not heavy-set at all—and in his thirties. He has strong crease marks down the side of his face with high cheekbones. He has dark hair with touches of grey to the sides and he definitely has facial hair. He carries a pocket watch and seems to be constantly conscious of time. He certainly isn’t a poor working man. The person I’m talking about is used to mixing with the aristocracy and I feel he could have some connection with royalty.’

‘And a name?’ questioned Dr Montz.

Sadly, no. On this occasion I was not being impressed by the name of the man who became infamous as ‘Jack the Ripper’.

I would like one day to revisit the site of the Whitechapel murders and see what else I can uncover. I still maintain that more than one person was behind what I would describe as ritualistic killings. I feel that five of the murders were carried out by the same man but there was at least one other murder for which another individual was responsible.

The Euxton Mills Hotel

Following our investigation of the killing fields of Jack the Ripper, we travelled north and based ourselves at a hotel in Leyland, which is a suburb of the old Lancashire town of Preston.

The Euxton Mills Hotel is a 300-year-old establishment which was once a coaching house which accommodated travellers on their journeys from Scotland and the north of England to more southern areas. The manager, Keith Burgess, had kindly agreed to allow the ISPR team to conduct an investigation of the premises. Although Mr Burgess was sceptical of mediumistic abilities, he was interested to see whether the ISPR team could shed any light on the strange goings-on experienced by members of his staff.

Immediately I walked into the lounge area I was aware of a spirit man standing in the centre of the room. Wearing a dark cloak and stovepipe hat, he had the appearance of a Victorian gentleman. He said nothing but as he gently faded from my view Sam told me that his name was George Chapman and he had frequently visited the hostelry and enjoyed his stays there. He was a jovial soul who enjoyed the company of women and had a tactile nature. Indeed, to this day, employees of the hotel talk of being touched by an unseen person.

As the spirit form of George Chapman disappeared, Linda, Peter and I were simultaneously drawn to the washroom area at the rear of the lounge and in particular to the ladies’ toilets. As I entered the toilet area I had the feeling that things were not quite as they should be. It was a ladies’ toilet but I felt a distinctly male influence and that George would have visited these facilities when he arrived at the hotel in his earthly life.

At that moment, the temperature began to drop dramatically and a lady in a long Victorian-style dress and hat walked past and through us and exited through the door into the lounge. She seemed intent on what she was doing and appeared to be keeping a very tight hold of a small bag. I was not given her name nor was I told the reason for her continuing to visit the hotel, but it was confirmed by the staff that a ‘grey lady’ is often seen in the ladies’ toilet area.

Our investigation continued in the cellars. I was immediately aware of a male presence and knew that the male in question was not the jovial George Chapman. This was a different personality—not angry, but certainly mischievous.

‘You have problems down here,’ I said to Keith. ‘In particular I feel you have problems with the beer lines. There’s spiritual interference here. A man comes down and plays with the lines and I feel you could have experienced the gas in the kegs pushing back.’

Keith laughingly confirmed that on many occasions he had experienced just that and had been forced to go up and change his shirt because of the soaking he had received.

‘Well, the next time it happens, tell Tom to stop it,’ I advised.

I had the distinct impression that Tom had at one time worked at the public house and was still jealously guarding what he considered to be his domain.

Tonge Hall

Tonge Hall in the Middleton area of Manchester was built by the Tonge family in 1594. It is a beautiful Tudor-style black-and-white building and is owned by Norman Wolstencroft, who was our amiable host for the next investigation.

The main room of Tonge Hall, where Norman was seated with our expert for the day, Mr W. John Smith, was cosy and welcoming after the cold and rain outside.

I had only been standing in this room for a few moments when I became aware of a gentleman. ‘I have a man with me,’ I told Dr Montz, ‘and he wants to talk to me. He tells me his name is Richard and he’s very proud of his staircase! He’s asking us to follow him!’

We all hurried out, following Richard as he took us out of the lounge and past a staircase to a part of the house which was undergoing renovation. ‘There,’ Richard said, pointing towards a set of stairs which the team had been unaware of, ‘these are the stairs that I designed and I’m extremely proud of them!’

Mr Smith, our expert, confirmed that Richard Tonge had indeed built a second staircase and noted that this set of stairs was unusual for the time in that they were built out of wood.

‘There are two men here now,’ I said, ‘both Richards! They’re different generations. One is very much younger than the other. And there’s a William too—he has a very bad limp. William seems very fond of the younger Richard.’

Mr Wolstencroft was able to confirm that William was the father of the younger Richard. He had received a bullet wound to his leg in the First World War but wouldn’t allow amputation, so he spent the rest of his life with a limp. He also told us that his grandmother had five sons. Four of them were wounded but Uncle Dick had been particularly badly hurt and also limped. This must have been the Richard who had shown himself to me earlier.

We were all drawn to the upper levels of the old house and all felt compelled to enter one particular bedroom. As soon as the door was opened I immediately became aware of a young girl, eight or nine years of age, with red hair in plaits. Almost simultaneously Linda and I said the same name: ‘Ann!’

The child seemed afraid and upset. I felt that she had passed to spirit as the result of an illness, certainly not as the result of an accident or anything more sinister. Nevertheless, she seemed to be frightened.

Suddenly there was a huge drop in the temperature in the room. The reading on the gauge which Dr Montz was holding decreased dramatically and Linda and I became aware of a male presence who seemed to be more malevolent than the kindly souls we had experienced earlier. He was not at all pleased at our being at Tonge Hall. Linda, a gifted and experienced healer, attempted to calm the spirit, but he was not going to be so easily placated. Dr Montz’s electromagnetic field metre needle swooped backwards and forwards. I stood next to Linda. I knew that it would take the strength of both of us to send this unpleasant spirit man on his way.

Suddenly, Linda stumbled. ‘He pushed me!’ she shouted. Dr Montz and I grabbed at her arms to steady her. We were at the top of a steep set of stairs and the last thing we wanted was for Linda to go tumbling down them. I braced myself and moved forward towards the entity. Too late I realized that I had allowed him to get too close to me. I felt as though the wind had been knocked out of my lungs and I doubled over coughing and choking, fighting desperately for breath.

Slowly I managed to stand upright once more. As I did so, I saw the outline of the angry spirit man fade and disappear. He had warned us! He was not going to allow us to interfere with his home!

We were all completely shocked at what had happened. Meanwhile, little Ann was still standing in the bedroom. She had not moved and seemed to be waiting for us to help her in some way. ‘She’s lost,’ Linda murmured. ‘She needs to be sent to join her mother in the light.’

We turned and looked through the doorway to the bedroom across the hall and straight over to a window through which could be seen the dying rays of the April sun. Through that window I could see a lady, very peaceful and calm, with her arms outstretched towards Ann. Linda and I mentally took Ann by the hand and led her towards the lady who would take her into the light of the spirit world and eternal peace.

Norman was later to explain that his father had a sister named Ann who had succumbed to a childhood disease at the age of eight. She had red hair and long red pigtails!

Live at the Liverpool Empire

The day which I had long awaited had finally arrived. Tonight I was to be appearing for the first time at the famous Liverpool Empire theatre.

As I would be conducting a demonstration of clairvoyance and mediumship for two hours, it was decided that the rest of the ISPR team would carry out an investigation of the theatre without me. I am happy to be able to report that they were able to confirm the presence of the spirit of a girl aged approximately 12 who had fallen from the front of the circle onto the seats of the stalls below. Linda and Peter confirmed that she was an active presence and the names ‘Joanna’ or ‘Jessica’ were suggested. The spirit of this young girl is frequently seen in the corridors, front of house and stalls of the theatre. She is reported to be very pretty with long blonde hair and is dressed in Victorian-style clothing. She is often seen in the company of a man with either black eyes or no eyes. Unfortunately, on the day of the investigation, the spirit man chose not to make the team aware of him.

Meanwhile I was honoured that Julie Goodyear had graciously agreed to introduce me to my audience at the beginning of the show. I had worked with Julie briefly whilst she hosted the Granada Breeze programme Livetime and was delighted to see her once again.

I had a tremendous evening and judging by the audience’s response, so did they. Many people think that a demonstration of mediumship is all ‘doom and gloom’ with an atmosphere of misery and sadness. This is not the case at all. If a person had a cheerful and outgoing personality whilst here on Earth, they will carry that personality through to their life in the spirit world.

I can recall one hilarious moment at the Liverpool Empire when a young man from the spirit world tapped me on the shoulder and told me that he’d like to speak to his sister Karen and her friend, who were sitting in the audience. ‘Tell them Carl wants to speak to them,’ he announced in his cheeky Scouse accent.

I duly did as requested and a gasp went up from a young lady who was sitting half a dozen rows back in the stalls.

‘I’m alright now, our kid!’ shouted Carl. ‘Look!’ And he proceeded to skip across the stage.

‘I can’t do that,’ I said to Carl.

“Course you can, Degsy,’ came the cheeky reply.

‘Carl’s telling me that he’s fine now in the world of spirit,’ I told Karen, ‘and he’s kicking up his heels just to prove it.’

Carl continued, ‘It wasn’t any good, that stuff. I knew I shouldn’t take it, but it got a hold of me and I just carried on. Didn’t think it’d see an end to me, though. But guess what? I’m not skint over here—you don’t need money!’ With that he turned out his pockets. ‘And I don’t have to keep looking over me shoulder!’ He burst into peals of laughter and ran across the stage, warily looking over his shoulder. ‘I don’t need to keep an eye out for the rozzers over here!’

I looked out to Karen in the audience and wondered how on earth I was going to pass that message over. ‘Oh well! Go for broke,’ I thought and repeated exactly what Carl had told me, giving a demonstration of the turned-out pockets and the hasty scuttling across the stage whilst looking over my shoulder.

Karen and her friend were beside themselves with laughter, together with the rest of the audience. ‘That’s our Carl,’ Karen said. ‘He was always getting into trouble and had to keep on his toes.’

Carl’s message continued. ‘Seriously, though, kid, I’m OK over here, and guess what? I’ve met old Uncle Jimmy! He’s shown me the ropes. Tell you one thing, though, I’m not happy about our Dave nicking me bedroom!’

Karen laughed through her tears. ‘Dave’s our brother and when we lost Carl, Dave took over his bedroom. Their tastes in decoration weren’t quite the same,’ she added tellingly.

Carl passed on messages of love to his mum and dad and the rest of the family. He finished up on a light note by telling his sister that the medium she’d been to see just after his passing had not been able to make contact with him. ‘Because she was no good, that’s why,’ he scoffed. ‘Next time you want to speak to me, go to somebody who can do the bizz!’ Karen nodded her agreement.

The evening was drawing to an end, but there was just one more thing to do. Dr Montz came on stage to ask whether any member of the audience who had experienced spirit activity in their home would agree to the ISPR team visiting their premises to conduct an investigation. The reason behind his request was to prove to sceptics that an investigative paranormal team could go into an undocumented building and still pick up on the spirit activity there without the possibility of research.

A number of people put their names forward, but one young man stood out as being more in need of our assistance than the others. To preserve his and his family’s privacy, I have changed their names.

Paul had come to the theatre in the hope that he would receive a message from his wife Paula who had passed to the world of spirit just five weeks before. She had suffered from that horrible condition called cancer. Paul was absolutely bereft. He had been left to look after his small daughter Jemma on his own as his family lived out of the Liverpool area.

We arrived at Paul’s neat home in a suburb of Liverpool the following morning. Paul was there with his daughter and his mother. Dr Montz felt that I should be the first person to go into Paul’s home to speak to him.

I entered the house by myself, leaving the rest of the team outside. I walked over to Paul and took his hand. I could feel all the hurt, sorrow and desperation that he was experiencing. I picked up the anguish of his loss.

Jemma was there, clinging to her toy rabbit. She had become destructive since the loss of her mother, and her family were worried about her. As I did not want to conduct a reading or any sort of investigation in front of the little girl, I asked Paul’s mother to take her through to the kitchen area of the house, together with Linda Mackenzie, who has an amazing empathy with children and has marvellous healing powers which I felt could benefit Jemma.

As I stood in the lounge I became aware of a slim young woman in spirit. She smiled gently and said, ‘I’m Paula. This is my home and Paul is my husband.’ She pointed over to the window and told me, ‘That was my last resting-place—there under the window.’

‘Did you have Paula’s coffin at home?’ I asked Paul, ‘because I have a young woman with me who’s telling me that she was laid under the window. She’s also telling me to thank you for the necklace you put around her neck whilst she lay in her coffin.’

Tears welled up in Paul’s eyes. He told me that he had placed a cross and chain around Paula’s neck as she lay there.

‘You’ve heard Paula around the house, especially on the stairs,’ I said.

Paul confirmed that he had indeed heard noises, especially on the stairs. The noises were reminiscent of when he used to help Paula up the stairs when the ravages of her illness had made it impossible for her to climb them herself.

‘There’s something serious I need to speak to you about,’ I told Paul. ‘You mustn’t do what you’ve been thinking and planning. Paula’s telling me that you must carry on. You must stay to take care of Jemma.’

Paul gasped and as he stared up at me, I could see the tears welling once more in his eyes. ‘I know what you’re saying, Derek,’ he said as he stared down at his hands. ‘I understand.’

‘Always know that Paula loves you,’ I told him. ‘She wants you to be happy. She knows that it will take time, but you must persevere because you have to be responsible for Jemma.’

We went into the kitchen where Linda was playing with Jemma. I could see the healing colours surrounding the child and I knew that Linda had been sending out healing energies whilst playing with the little girl.

I like to think that we were meant to visit Paul’s home and that as a result of our visit he was able to continue on and come to terms with the passing of his young wife. I feel that he learned that life does indeed continue beyond physical death and that loved ones never really leave us. They remain with us until we ourselves leave the physical plane and rejoin them in the world of spirit.

Belgrave Hall

The grand finale of the ISPR team’s visit to the UK was a visit to Belgrave Hall in Leicestershire. Belgrave had recently been in the news around the world. The cctv system at the old hall had picked up some anomalous footage. Had a ghost been caught on camera? The video footage purported to show two ghostly apparitions on the gravel path to the rear of the hall. The ISPR team had been invited by Leicester City Council to view the tapes and to visit the hall in an effort to determine whether it was true ghostly activity or a mere fault on the videotape.

It was planned that the team would arrive at midnight. Dr Montz asked each member of the team to enter the hall individually so that he could compare findings.

I was the third team member to take part in the investigation. As I entered the rear pantry and walked through to the dimly lit kitchen I was aware that there was indeed spirit activity within the hall. I continued through to the hallway and was surprised to find that my nostrils were assailed by the smell of freshly baked gingerbread and the sweet smell of cooked fruit. ‘How odd!’ I thought. I would have expected such smells to have been apparent in the kitchen, but not in a hallway.

As I was mulling over this strange situation, out of the corner of my eye I noticed a movement on the staircase that led up to the first floor. A smell of freesias became apparent and there on the staircase stood the spirit form of a lady. She was in her mid-fifties, had white hair and was dressed in a deep red Victorian-style dress. She said nothing, but drifted slowly up the stairs and disappeared onto the landing above. I was strongly impressed to utter the name ‘Alice’ or ‘Ellis’.

‘This is one of the Ellis sisters,’ Sam advised me. ‘She loved her home and her garden and loves to come back and visit. Although the furnishings have changed, she’s very happy that her home still remains and that she’s able to come back and pay visits.’