The Real Conjuring House, Post-Surgery Recovery, and Your Questions Answered

There are few cases in the paranormal world that generate more questions than the real house behind The Conjuring — and after my recent surgery, I finally had the time to sit down, take your calls, and address some of the things I've been wanting to talk about for a while. This wasn't a formal investigation recap, but it turned into one of the most honest conversations I've had with the community in years. Pull up a chair, because we had a lot to cover.

First things first — yes, I'm doing well. Surgery recovery isn't exactly glamorous, and anyone who's been through a procedure and then tried to sit still and rest clearly hasn't met me. I've been using the downtime productively, though, and one of the things I wanted to do was open things up to you — the people who've been following this work for years, asking smart questions, and holding me accountable to the same skeptical standards I hold every investigation to. Taking live calls felt like the right way to do that.

A big chunk of the conversation centered around The Conjuring — specifically the real property in Harrisville, Rhode Island that inspired the film franchise. I want to be clear about something, because I think the pop culture machine has done a real number on people's perception of that location: there is a significant difference between what Hollywood dramatized and what the actual investigative record shows. I've said it before and I'll keep saying it — the moment you let a movie tell you what to believe about a location before you walk in the door, you've already compromised your investigation. My approach has always been to go in trying to disprove what's being reported. That's not cynicism, that's methodology. If something survives that scrutiny, then we have something worth talking about.

The questions I got ranged from the genuinely thoughtful to the ones I've heard a thousand times, and I tried to give every one of them a real answer. People wanted to know about the history of the Perron family's experiences, about Ed and Lorraine Warren's involvement, and about what I personally think happened in that house. I shared my perspective honestly — which is that there were real people who had real experiences they couldn't explain, and that deserves to be taken seriously and investigated properly, not sensationalized. When you strip away the Hollywood version, you're left with a family that was frightened, and that's always where the investigation has to start: with the people, not the mythology.

The calls also gave me a chance to talk about something I feel strongly about — the responsibility that comes with this work. When people reach out saying they're experiencing something in their home, they're often scared. They're not looking for ghost hunters to validate their fear and walk away with dramatic footage. They need someone to come in, take an honest look, identify every possible rational explanation, and only then — if nothing else fits — consider that something else might be going on. That's what TAPS was built on. That's what I've dedicated decades to. Sitting there recovering, talking through these cases and fielding your questions, reminded me exactly why this work matters and why the skeptic-first approach isn't just my preference — it's the only ethical way to do this.

I'm grateful for everyone who tuned in, sent questions, and called in — this community has always been the backbone of everything I do, and conversations like this remind me why. I'm on the mend, I'm eager to get back out in the field, and I'm not done digging into cases like The Conjuring house with the same honest, evidence-driven lens I apply to everything else. Stay skeptical, stay curious, and I'll see you in the next one.