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 Tower Theater - Roseville with Team Shannon!

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Number of posts : 1103
Registration date : 2009-05-17

PostSubject: Tower Theater - Roseville with Team Shannon!   Fri Oct 18, 2013 5:14 am

By Paul Dale Roberts, HPI Esoteric Detective
HPI (Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence) International!/groups/HPIinternational/
Paranormal Hotline: (916) 203-7503 - 4 Advice & Investigations


Tower Theater - Roseville Part 1 Video

Tower Theater - Roseville Part 2 Video

Tower Theater - Roseville Part 3 Video

October 17, 2013, Thursday: Shannon ‘Ms. Macabre’ of Team Shannon teams up with her former paranormal group HPI International (Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence) formerly known as Haunted & Paranormal Investigations. A reporter and photographer of the Roseville Press (newspaper) and Shannon and her team, along with Wendy Maxam, HPI Videographer & me – Paul Dale Roberts, HPI Owner investigate the very haunted Tower Theater at 417 Vernon Street, Roseville, CA. Tower Theater built in the 1940s, once had a camp near it, called ‘Gypsy Camp’, a place for vagrants. WWII vets coming home from the war, would bring their girlfriends to this theater. This theater was the place to be!

There were many places to investigate and in our first session of the investigation, I had Shannon sing a song, right afterwards we get a male voice EVP twice. One was mumbling and listening to the EVP – a Class C EVP, it sounds like he is saying ‘not at this time’ the 2nd time he talks. The 2nd session investigation, we went into the basement and dressing room and Shannon asked a girl from Team Shannon to show her b----s. We get a Class A EVP of a man saying ‘YES!’. We captured a purple light anomaly and Shannon debunked it as a light reflection from a ceiling light. The contrast of colors in the room, made the light appear purple. There was a lot of orb activity, but we could not show that the orbs had intelligence. I could not deem the orb activity as paranormal. With the night vision goggles, a white mist was seen in a crawlspace. With the ‘yes’ EVP, that coincided with what Shannon said, showed intelligence. Also, the ghost radar showed a ghost image next to the girl that was supposed to show her b—s, at the exact time Shannon asked the girl to show her b—s. Was this just a coincidence? The Spirit Box came up with words that would correspond to what Shannon asked for. Again, was this all a coincidence? The EVPs were our solid evidence that something or somethings are residing in this theater. Great investigation!

Don't forget to attend Shannon McCabe's 2013 Vampire Ball - the theme is Dark Shadows! See here: You don't want to miss out on this one!! Get your tickets now!


Rhonda 209 865 0087 - Address to be at: 63 Black Peni Way, Oakdale, CA - Activity: Occupant has premonitions - so she feels she is psychic. She sees an apparition at the end of the hallway. Lights go off and on. One time a small tremor shook her headboard for hours. Take Denise DeMattei, Lizzy Silva with me. Erica Ransom will be attending.

Ross Osborn: Unholy Ghosts
Oklahoma City Hospital room, 1980:
Gary Barnes and I were sharing war stories, as both were field radio operators during the Vietnam conflict, bloody 68; thank God it wasn't a war. And the two smiling surgeons, who were to perform Garry's heart bypass, were nailed to our every snickering words ( what was there to do, but laugh at it all now). Yet I was just making small talk, for Gary was most scared to face the knife.....again, this was his second heart bypass. And Gary worked for me, and I'd just given him my Rolex watch to hawk, as the oil price had bottomed and we were both, near broke, and he had a wife and child, anyway, the doctors bid us goodbye and headed down to the operating room to prep for Gary's, final heart by-pass. Gary's family blood line made more cholesterol than most folk's did: his sister and brother having all too recently passed from said, mom and dad long since gone.

And so I said to Gary, laying there with a tube stuck in his arm, plastic name bracelet, white gowned, dead pan smile, still so boyish of face and size, always looked so baby new, even at thirty eight, “Well, Barney, at least we didn't murder no enemy, pretty stand up Marines, weren't we?” I was far from Gung Ho....but said that anyway.
Barney seemed stumped, but found whispered words, “Ross, you were standing right there when that wigged-out machine gunner killed those four captured prisoners. Don't you remember, man, those little pieces of skull flying about like bloody moths?” He always called me Oz, never, ever Ross, and never kidded, ever. 'Oz' was my jungle name, 'Barney' his.

I can't describe the expression on my face, but it had to be stunned, disbelief at best, for the vision grabbed me like a vindictive ghost and gave me the 'haunted' stares, too “Oh, you're surely right, Barney, I kind of forgot,.....maybe.”
And Barney said, seeming an afterthought. “You believe in ghost, Ross?”

I forced a smile, gathering my wits, somewhat. “I damn sure do now,” for I could fairly see little pieces of skull fluttering about in my veteran bloody moths.

Barney sighed into words, “When I got home from the Nom (we called it the Nom, not the Nam) I stood guard at a centuries old naval prison,” Portsmouth, I think Gary said.

I prodded, as the bloody pieces of skull thankfully, quit flying about in my combative past. Why did the little **** have to relive this 'buried' evil past?

Barney cold stared me. “Me and this other guard heard a basketball dribbling, and went to check it out.”

I nodded Barney on, why not. “It was passed lights out, all prisoners now in lock down. And, when we opened the gym door, a basketball wisp through the net, but no one was in the gym.”
I frowned. “Prisoner de-de mowed, man, 'ran' out the back door. This is the Oz you're talking to.”

Barney kept blankly staring at me. “No back door, no windows, no bleachers, it was a ghost, Ross.....I **** kid you not.”
Again with the Ross? “It's me Barney, cut the crap.”
Barney seemed truly lost in that prison past now. “Hear me, Ross. Dudes with two or more tours in the Nom, refused to stand guard in that spooky place, even under threat of court-martial, its haunted as a mother****er.....for real.”

The door to Barney's hospital room snapped open, and this white-gowned Indian fella, pushing a ghost white wheeled bed before him, smiled like Christmas and said, he was a dude from real India, too, not Oklahoma, “We're ready for you,....Mr. Barnes.”

Barney locked startled eyes with me, cold fear welling in his widening globes, that fear of death we both knew all too well. In an hour Gary lay dying on the operating table.

When I went to see Barney in the recovery room, there was this metal thing, like a giant silver shoe spoon, shoved in his chest, and this rust colored stuff all over his chest and neck, some kind of pre-op junk, I'm sure, and, on life support as he was, he had the cold stare at nothing of the KIA if I ever saw one, and I saw a bagged and tagged dead many in Vietnam.

"Cut him lose, lady," I calmly said to the stand by nurse, "He's dead as a mother****er." regret saying that to that innocent one. With permission from Gary's trembling wife...the sad duty was done.
Later, fairly spent myself, I happened to pass the two failed docs in the hall, and they both cast their eyes away from me, like villagers did in Vietnam when they knew the enemy was near but were too scared to warn you. And so I stopped and ask them, point blank, “What the hell went wrong?”

Almost in unison, as if planned, the two saw bones stiffly replied, “His spent heart came apart--in our hands!” And so I shrugged my shoulders and walked on, for what was left to say....yet why the life support, with no other heart on hand?

When I got home to the safety of 'mom's' house, for it seemed the soundest place to run hide, I haphazardly flicked on the TV, only to catch the Lonesome Dove western series, that part where one Texas Ranger lay dying while his ranger buddy sat at his bedside--what a sad show to happen onto at such a heartless time.

“Quite a party,” the dying, smiling ranger said to the nodding other, and I came apart like Barney's worn out heart, tears running down my face like a jungle rain; for I could fairly re-see now, the four executed enemy soldiers, staring at me just seconds before they were shot dead, piece of bloody skull flying about like moths.
Pretty rude awaking all around.....I must say. And no doubt my dearest friend saw a ghost, or at least a basket ball launched by said, paranormal force.

War's hell, but a haunting memory can be an oh so troubling b***h. RIP Gary.....and Charlie. Oh, yeah. 'Charlie' was more of a refined name, for the North Vietnamese Army; for we called them a lot of other dreaded things.

Paul Dale Roberts, HPI Esoteric Detective
aka The Demon Warrior
Hegelianism Paranormal Intelligence (International)!/groups/HPIinternational/
Managed by Staci Butler, HPI Twitter Account Manager
My Bio Link at Ceri Clark's All Destiny Magazine!
Paranormal Cellular Hotline: For Investigation or Advice: 916 203 7503
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