Free I am Haunted: Living Life Through the Dead by Zak Bagans, Kelly Crigger Page A

things I do before an investigation is listen to the music of the time. For me, music is the key to lockdown prep. I like to listen to tunes that are relevant to the culture and the location: the blues in Mississippi, Creole in New Orleans, bluegrass in Kentucky, battle hymns in Gettysburg, and Native American music on reservations (I
love
the soundtrack from
Apocalypto
). Athletes often wear headphones on the day they have to perform because it gets them in the right frame of mind, and I’m no different. Anyone knowingly walking into an event where he has to be at peak performance wants to shut out the world and focus on the task at hand, and music really helps him do that. I take it one step further by using music to better understand the time, place, and people I’m trying to connect with, and maybe even bring us closer together before a lockdown, instead of just walking through the house and calling out their names. I believe that music is embedded with emotion, and if I can get myself on the same emotional level as the spirits, then we can make a deeper connection. I guess I use it both as entertainment and as part of the job, but I owe it to everyone to make every effort, no matter how small, to build that bridge between myself and the spirits.
    I’ve always loved music because it’s so powerful. Whether it’s from the past or the present, music has the power to unify and comfort us. It can connect hundreds or thousands of people in an instant, whether they’re sad or swaying or dancing all at the same time. We can lose ourselves in it because it enables us to exhale all the stress from our lives. Like cleansing your palate after you eat something that tastes bad, listening to music on lockdown day helps me flush 2014. It helps me clear my head of all the texts, calls, and emails I have to return, all the bad news on TV, and all the social media mentions that flood my feed.
    Besides listening to music, I take time to meditate and organize myself to baseline my blood pressure and my thought process. There’s a little more to it than that, but I can’t give away all my secrets.
    What’s weird about lockdown day is the drive to the location. When it’s time to meet up—call time is usually 7pm—we ride together, but the atmosphere is different. The goofy times are over. The setup is complete. The interviews are done. It’s time to get dirty and do what we do best. We feel like a SWAT team in a van driving into a serious situation. It’s a little tense because we all know it could be a dangerous night, and our only protection is our spiritual armor. We aren’t really open with each other about how we protect ourselves individually. It’s interesting that we keep quiet about it, actually, but it’s a personal thing—prayers, cleansing, whatever processes we have we keep to ourselves.

    After filming more than 150 shows and completing hundreds of investigations, I know how serious an investigation can be, what dangers we expose ourselves to, and what we can bring home to our families. We’ve dealt with possession, oppression, attacks, and all kinds of emotional swings, from extreme sadness to massive joy. We’ve all cried at one time or another, and we’ve even refused to continue an investigation because of how badly we were being affected. We never know what we’re in for, but one thing’s for sure: We can’t go into
any
location unprepared.
    Depending on how far away the lockdown is, I also use the drive time to prepare technically. It’s probably a little bit of a defense mechanism to keep myself from thinking about the dark forces I might come in contact with, but it’s my nature to check and double-check everything. So many things can go wrong, and as the lead investigator, I have to guide the team and make sure we deliver a meaningful and complete investigation and a professional product. There’s a lot of pressure to deliver. It’s stressful, but I’m always up to the challenge. So the