đParanormal Insight: Ed Warren on Demons - Knowledge, Warnings, and Encounters
Ed Warrenâs account of how demons deceive, oppress, and possess.
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Ed and Lorraine Warren became two of the most prominent figures in twentieth-century paranormal research. Ed was a self-taught demonologist whose role developed out of personal experience, study, and confrontation with hostile forces. Lorraine was a clairvoyant and trance medium whose abilities allowed her to perceive presences, auras, and impressions that others could not. Together they formed a partnership that was both marital and vocational, dedicating their lives to documenting cases of haunting, possession, and supernatural disturbance.
Edâs conviction that the supernatural was real took root in his childhood in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He grew up in a house where disturbances were frequent. He later described seeing shadowy forms, hearing unexplained knocks, and feeling a persistent presence. These experiences left him certain from an early age that unseen forces were real, and that some of them were malevolent.
Lorraineâs sensitivity also appeared in her youth. She discovered that she could perceive auras around people and discern spiritual presences in places where others noticed nothing. Her ability gave her a role as witness and interpreter in the cases the Warrens undertook. Where Ed provided theological structure and resolve, Lorraine confirmed what was unseen and often identified the presence behind the disturbances.
The Warrensâ marriage bound these two roles together. Their investigations were the central work of their lives. Edâs knowledge and determination, combined with Lorraineâs clairvoyance, created a team whose reports and case files became defining accounts of modern demonology.
Ed Warrenâs sense of calling took shape in stages. His childhood experiences in Bridgeport had already given him certainty that unseen forces existed, but the Second World War deepened that conviction. Serving as a Navy seaman, Ed witnessed death directly. He saw men die in combat and reflected on what became of the soul after life left the body. This sharpened his belief that spiritual realities were not theories but facts, and that the struggle between good and evil continued beyond the battlefield.
When he returned home, Ed faced a decision about what direction his life would take. He did not enter the priesthood or seminary, but he devoted himself to the study of hauntings and possessions. He read extensively in theology, scripture, and the writings of mystics, and he combined this with first-hand investigation. By the early 1950s he had begun calling himself a demonologist. The word was not common in America at the time. To Ed, it meant a person who studied and confronted demons, in the same way that a biologist studied and confronted the facts of living nature. He argued that his authority did not rest on ordination but on experience. If a priest was a soldier of the Church, then he was a scout in the field.
Ed explained his role in practical terms. His duty was to recognise the signs of demonic activity, to document patterns, and to help families and clergy identify what they were facing. He worked closely with priests, often being the first to enter a case, assess its seriousness, and prepare the ground for formal intervention. He was always clear about his limits. He could not perform a solemn exorcism, but he could withstand manifestations, resist oppression, and strengthen those who were under attack until the Church could act. Priests, he said, often appreciated his work because he brought knowledge and experience that allowed them to approach a case with certainty rather than hesitation.
Lorraineâs role complemented this from the beginning. She had discovered her psychic sensitivity as a young girl, when she realised she could perceive auras around people and sense presences in places others considered empty. Over the years this ability became sharper. During investigations she would walk through a house and immediately identify rooms heavy with energy, corners that carried oppression, or objects that bore spiritual attachment. Ed relied on her impressions to confirm whether a disturbance was natural or preternatural. In many cases, Lorraine reported seeing figures or presences that matched the descriptions given by witnesses, even when she had not heard those reports beforehand.
The partnership between Ed and Lorraine became the foundation of their authority. Ed was the combative figure, blunt in speech and confident in declaring what he believed to be true. Lorraine was more cautious, careful to describe what she perceived, but her impressions often gave weight to Edâs conclusions. Together they presented a balance that impressed both clergy and laypeople. Ed offered structure and teaching, Lorraine gave confirmation and testimony.
By the 1960s, the Warrens had become unique figures in the landscape of American religion and folklore. They were neither clergy nor academics, yet they spoke with knowledge and conviction that placed them in demand. Families turned to them when churches hesitated. Priests turned to them for initial assessment. Journalists turned to them for vivid testimony. Their names began to circulate far beyond Connecticut, and with each case their confidence grew.
Ed saw his role as more than investigation. He described himself as a combatant in a larger war, and he treated every case as part of that battle. Lorraine saw herself as the witness, able to sense what others could not, and she accepted the responsibility of bringing those impressions forward. Their marriage meant that they faced the dangers together, each balancing the other, and this unity became a central feature of their work.
For Ed Warren, investigation alone was never enough. He believed that the greatest danger came from ignorance. Most people, he said, lived with no awareness of the reality of the demonic. They treated the occult as entertainment, dismissed possession as superstition, and joked about rituals without understanding the cost. To Ed, this indifference gave demons their greatest advantage. If people could be persuaded that they did not exist, then they could operate without resistance.
It was for this reason that Ed and Lorraine committed themselves to lecturing. They carried their message to universities, churches, community halls, and seminar rooms across the United States and abroad. They spoke before sceptics as well as believers, repeating Edâs conviction that forewarned is forearmed. Their purpose was always to prepare, never to entertain. They brought photographs, audio recordings, and case files to illustrate their words. On occasion they presented objects taken from investigations, the most infamous being the Annabelle doll, which Ed warned carried an active demonic attachment.
The style of their lectures was blunt and uncompromising. Ed did not use theatrical gestures or exaggeration. He spoke in the same plain tone that he used in interviews, repeating the same message he delivered in private to families and priests. Lorraine added her perspective, describing what she perceived psychically in the cases they discussed. Together they created a presentation that was both authoritative and unsettling.
Edâs warnings centred on the idea of invitation. He explained that demons could not seize control without a form of consent. That consent might be deliberate, as in a ritual, or unknowing, as in a careless game. In either case the result was the same. To drive this home he used one of his most quoted analogies. Giving someone a Ouija board to play with, he said, was like handing them a loaded gun with the firing pin removed. At first glance it might appear harmless. The person might even convince themselves that there was no real danger. Yet the risk remained, and eventually the gun would go off in their face.
The comparison stripped away illusions. Ed explained that a Ouija board is a door. Once opened, it allowed the demonic to make contact, and there was no guarantee that the spirit one thought they were addressing was who it claimed to be. He told audiences that demons seldom appeared in their true form. They would pose as the souls of the dead, as helpful guides, or as lost children. Only once trust was won would their true nature emerge.
The Warrens lectured because they believed silence left people unarmed. To Ed, a prepared mind could resist temptation, but a curious or mocking attitude gave the enemy a foothold. Their message was consistent: knowledge was protection, and ignorance was the most dangerous invitation of all.
As their reputation grew, the Warrens moved beyond private investigations and began speaking to audiences in universities, churches, and community halls. For Ed this was not a choice but a duty. He insisted that the greatest weapon demons possessed was disbelief, and that the only way to counter it was through education. Their lectures were intended to strip away ignorance and prepare people for dangers they might otherwise treat as games.
Ed explained that he did not approach lecturing as theatre. He refused to exaggerate and he was careful with the details he revealed. He often said that even the mention of a demonic name gave it fuel to manifest, and he avoided giving practical information that could lead people deeper into ritual practice. In his own words: âI donât mention the names of spirits, because knowing a particular demonic name is to give recognition to that entity; if you give it recognition, no matter how small, youâre giving it fuel to manifest. As for specifics, let me put it this way. If you give someone a loaded gun, theyâd be liable to fire it. If you give them a loaded gun with the firing pin taken out, then there is no danger of it going off. Thatâs what I do: I take the firing pin out of my statements. Thatâs what has to be done with such material. People who really want to know how to perform satanic rituals can walk down to the local library and find out. But Iâm not going to be the one who told these people how to travel down the road of no return. My job is just the opposite: to help people who have already gone too far; and to tell those who may want to dabble in the occult: donât!â
In this way the Warrens sought to achieve two purposes at once. They showed that demonic influence was real, documented through case material and first-hand encounters, while also making clear that they would never hand the audience a set of instructions. Their mission was to close doors, not open them.
In his lectures and interviews, Ed often paused to make clear who and what he believed demons to be. He did not treat them as symbols, nor as psychological projections. To him they were literal, personal intelligences. He explained them within a Catholic frame as fallen angels, once created for good but corrupted through pride. Where human beings retained the possibility of repentance and redemption, demons had chosen eternal separation, and the consequence of that choice was hatred of mankind.
Ed spoke of them as beings of extraordinary cunning. They had observed history from its beginning, remembered every age of civilisation, and used that knowledge to manipulate with precision. Their skill lay in deception. They presented themselves as lost children, sympathetic guides, or the spirits of the dead. Only after trust had been won did their true intent show itself.
He emphasised that their purpose was always destructive. The strategy might vary, but the end was consistent: to destroy faith, to corrode dignity, and to seize control of the will. Deception was the entry point, but the aim was possession. Ed insisted that they did not tire, they did not forget, and they pressed against the defences of the human soul until resistance broke.
For him the greatest danger was not the violence of possession but the denial that preceded it. The conviction that demons were only folklore, he said, was itself a deception. By persuading people they did not exist, they gained the freedom to act unseen.
Ed explained that possession was never sudden. It unfolded step by step in a pattern he said he had seen repeatedly. He described this progression in four stages: infestation, oppression, obsession, and possession. Each stage weakened the victim a little more until their will could no longer resist.
Infestation marked the beginning. The disturbances attached themselves to a place, an object, or at times a person. At this stage the activity was often dismissed as coincidence: knocks on the walls, unexplained movements of household items, fleeting shadows, electrical interference, or a growing sense of unease. The purpose, Ed said, was to make its presence known without revealing its full nature, to provoke curiosity or fear and establish a foothold.
Oppression came once that foothold was secure. Here the attention of the entity narrowed to an individual. The effects were psychological, emotional, and physical: fatigue without cause, anxiety, depression, sudden changes of mood, and turmoil in the family. Sleep was disturbed, tempers flared, and a climate of despair set in. The aim of oppression was to break down resistance and push the person towards hopelessness.
Obsession ran deeper still. The presence became invasive, entering directly into thought. The afflicted experienced inner voices, intrusive images, and overwhelming impulses. Everyday life narrowed to a single focus: the entity itself. This stage was dangerous because it convinced the victim they were already lost. Ed often called obsession the critical turning point. If resisted through faith and prayer, the process could be halted. If not, possession followed.
Possession was the final stage. Here the inhuman spirit asserted control over the body. The personâs speech and voice changed, at times producing unknown languages. Strength could surge beyond natural limits. The face could twist into expressions that were not their own. Periods of lucidity alternated with intervals where the entity took command. Ed described possession as the displacement of the human soulâs authority over the body. Deliverance at this point required the formal rites of the Church, because ordinary resistance was no longer enough.
Ed did not limit his descriptions to theory. He often spoke of the visible changes that marked a person under demonic control. These signs, he said, were as consistent as the stages themselves, and they revealed the presence of something inhuman working through a human body.
The most striking change was in the eyes. Ed explained that when possession was active, the gaze altered in a way that could not be mistaken. It became fixed, unresponsive, and hostile, and in some cases carried a mocking or animal quality. He recalled moments when, in his words, âI knew I was not looking at him anymore. I was looking at the thing inside.â For him, this was one of the clearest signals that the personâs own will had been displaced.
When asked how demons worked, Ed answered with practical clarity. He described their activity as methodical rather than random, a sequence of tactics aimed at gaining access to a life and then destroying what it held. His account in The Demonologist set out the principal methods he encountered again and again: deception, fear, temptation, psychological pressure, and invitation.
Deception was the first instrument. Ed emphasised that demons rarely revealed themselves at once. They presented as harmless, helpful, even sympathetic. They would mimic the voice of a departed loved one, appear as a lost child, or pose as a benign spirit. This guise won trust and lowered defences, and trust was the key that allowed them to move from the perimeter of a life into its inner rooms.
Fear came next, and it was deliberate. Disturbances were arranged to unsettle sleep and to erode courage. Strange noises, apparitions, and oppressive atmospheres exhausted a household until resilience weakened. Ed stressed that continual fear was corrosive; it fractured reasoning, multiplied doubt, and opened the mind to further intrusions.
Temptation and corruption operated through the exploitation of weakness. Ed described how the demonic magnified private faults and habits, turning small appetites into self-destructive patterns. It pushed at pride, vanity, lust, resentment, or addiction, making vice appear easier and virtue harder. The method was practical and intimate: find the point of human weakness, press upon it, and let gradual surrender do the rest.
Psychological pressure, which Ed called oppression and obsession in their stages, targeted the mind directly. Intrusive thoughts, whispered lies, and persistent images filled the victimâs inner world. Concentration failed, judgement distorted, and the person began to accept the narrative imposed on them. Obsession made resistance increasingly difficult; it drained willpower and convinced the victim that escape was impossible.
Underlying all of these methods was invitation. Ed made the point repeatedly that demonic activity required some form of consent, however small. Curiosity with occult objects, experiments with spirit communication, habitual sin, or simply persistent dwelling on the very thing that weakens the soul could function as an opening. He warned that demons were, in effect, legalistic about rights: once a foothold existed, they pressed for more.
Finally, mimicry and masquerade were constant techniques. By adopting the familiar, the demonic sought to hide its intent until it had secured a position inside a life. Only after trust had been secured did its true nature show. For Ed this pattern of approach proved the intelligence behind the phenomena. It explained why seemingly trivial starts so often ended in ruin and why education and vigilance were the defences he insisted upon.
These methods fitted the stages he described. Deception produced infestation, fear and pressure led to oppression, temptation and inner assault produced obsession, and sustained access culminated in possession. That ordering was the framework Ed used to teach families and clergy how to recognise danger early, to resist where resistance still mattered, and to seek proper help before an opening became irreversible.
Ed Warren never softened his description of what motivated the demonic. In The Demonologist he explained that their purpose was fixed and that every case he studied, no matter how different in detail, revealed the same intent.
At the heart of their motive, he said, was envy. Demons had once been created for good but chose rebellion. Having cut themselves off from grace, they now hated humanity because people remained capable of repentance and redemption. âThey hate us because we are loved,â Ed explained, âand they envy us because we can be forgiven.â That bitterness became their driving force.
From envy came the goal of corruption. Demons worked to erode dignity and faith until the individual surrendered to despair. They sought to separate people from God and to replace hope with ruin. Ed insisted this was never casual. The demonic pressed against individuals with precision, using deception, fear, and temptation to wear away resistance until the soul was in jeopardy.
Another aim was the destruction of families. Ed noted that many cases involved households torn apart by conflict once an infestation began. Arguments multiplied, affection turned to hostility, and isolation set in. This, he said, was deliberate. Demons targeted the family because it formed the foundation of human stability. Divide the family, and each person became easier to corrupt.
Finally, Ed made clear that their motive was total possession. Every step, from infestation to obsession, prepared the way for displacement of the human will. The demonic did not settle for partial influence. Its aim was to claim the body and soul for itself, to take what had been human and make it a dwelling for what was inhuman.
For Ed Warren, all motives converged on this outcome. Whether through envy, corruption, division, or despair, the purpose was always the same: to destroy the soul and to drag it into the same state of separation that defined the demonic itself.
Facial features also changed. Contortions appeared that bore no relation to the individualâs usual expressions. Sneers, grimaces, or bony distortions overtook the face, creating the impression of a mask that belonged to something else. Ed recorded that in most cases of possession, nine times out of ten, the facial structure itself seemed altered.
The body, too, reflected the intrusion. Victims were often reduced to extreme fatigue, barely able to function, yet at intervals they displayed sudden, violent strength. Movements became jerky, unnatural, or mechanical. During episodes of deeper control, the person lashed out, sometimes injuring themselves or others.
Voices changed in timbre, accent, or language. A soft-spoken person might erupt in guttural tones. Words appeared in languages the individual had never studied. Blasphemies and threats spilled out in ways entirely uncharacteristic of the person. To Ed, these shifts were not signs of mental illness but outward evidence of an inhuman presence.
Lorraine often added that oppression dehumanised those it touched. In her words, the demonic worked to reduce people to something lower than beasts, because its own nature was inhuman. Together their accounts presented a picture not of random affliction but of calculated possession that left its mark on every part of body and mind.
The Donovan family case,
The haunting of the Donovan family was one of the cases Ed Warren often returned to when lecturing, because it illustrated with clarity the sequence of infestation, oppression, obsession, and possession. It occurred in a modest home in New England, a setting outwardly ordinary but inwardly marked by disturbances that grew in intensity until the family were forced to seek help.
The earliest events appeared trivial. Knocks sounded on walls when no one was near them. Doors opened and closed with no draft to explain the movement. At times shadows passed quickly across a room even when the curtains were drawn. These moments were unsettling, but the family at first dismissed them. They assumed the house was settling, or that fatigue made them imagine shapes in the dark. Ed later explained that this was the hallmark of infestation: the activity began with details so small they could be overlooked. The purpose was to test reactions, to see whether curiosity or fear could open the way further.
As the weeks passed, the disturbances grew sharper. Objects shifted, sometimes before the familyâs eyes. The sense of unease thickened until the atmosphere of the house itself felt heavy. Lorraine described the presence as concentrated in certain rooms, particularly the daughterâs bedroom, where she felt an energy that was cold, oppressive, and watching. She remarked that the air seemed to change as soon as she crossed the threshold, and she could see a dim shadow clinging to the girlâs aura.
Oppression followed swiftly. Tempers shortened, and arguments erupted over minor issues. The family began to feel drained. The parents grew weary and strained, while the children became restless and afraid of their own rooms. Nightmares plagued them. The daughter most affected complained of waking in the dark to the sound of whispering. At first she thought it came from her siblings, but soon realised the voices spoke only to her, and they told her she was worthless. This was obsession taking hold, the stage where the mind itself became the battlefield.
Ed recorded that the girl began to withdraw. She struggled to pray and at times seemed incapable of speaking words of faith. When she did attempt to pray, her voice faltered, or she would break off suddenly in agitation. The voices in her mind grew more demanding, filling her with dread that she could not shake. During the day she would fall into trances, her face tightening into expressions her family had never seen. On one occasion she spoke in a guttural tone that made her mother scream.
The disturbances escalated until the physical manifestations could no longer be ignored. Furniture scraped violently across the floor. Windows rattled in their frames. At times the girlâs body convulsed, and she displayed sudden bursts of strength that took both parents to restrain her. Ed described the moment when he looked directly into her eyes during one of these episodes. They no longer belonged to her. The gaze was fixed, mocking, and inhuman. âI knew I was not looking at her anymore,â he said. âI was looking at the thing inside.â
Throughout these episodes Lorraine remained by the family, confirming that the presence was active and that it had fixed itself upon the daughter as its point of entry. She urged calm and prayer, while Ed prepared the ground for clerical intervention. He explained to the family that what they faced was a calculated assault rather than a product of imagination or delusion. He warned them that the process was already far advanced, and that without help the final stage of possession would continue to deepen.
A priest was called, and the family submitted the home to blessings and prayers. Over several visits the atmosphere began to shift. The daughterâs trances ceased, the voices quietened, and the disturbances diminished. With persistence the house regained peace. The Warrens considered the case resolved, though Ed added a caution that relief was not the end of the struggle. Unless the family strengthened their faith and closed the door to further invitation, the entity could attempt to return.
Ed often retold the Donovan case in his lectures because it was a textbook example of the stages of demonic influence. It showed infestation in the house, oppression on the family, obsession in the daughter, and possession in her trances. Each stage was visible, distinct, and progressive. It demonstrated the consistency he believed proved the reality of demonic strategy. He used it to impress upon audiences that what seemed like small disturbances should never be taken lightly. The path from curiosity to ruin was shorter than most realised.
Only a few months before his interview with Gerald Brittle, Ed Warren and Lorraine had been in New York City to appear on a television programme. Afterwards, they took a taxi south to Chinatown for lunch. When they arrived, they saw a commotion at a street corner, police cars crowding the area. To avoid the disturbance, Ed suggested they cut through a narrow walkway that led to Mott Street.
The alley was filthy. Trash cans overflowed with decomposing food, flies swarmed, and vermin moved freely among the refuse. The heat amplified the stench, souring the air until it became almost unbearable. Lorraine covered her mouth as they walked, but the further they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere grew. Midway along, where the alley crooked and the street was no longer visible, they saw two feet protruding from behind a line of bins.
Ed told Lorraine to stay where she was while he went ahead. The figure was a man, a derelict, slumped against the wall with his legs stretched out. He was covered in sores and filth, his body marked by disease. What struck Ed most was that the manâs body was buried beneath heaps of rotting garbage, as though he had been lying there for days without moving. His arms were sunk in the foul mess, flies crawled over his skin, and rats had gnawed at his feet. Next to him, in jarring contrast, his shoes had been placed neatly and shined. Ed later said that even after the war he had never seen anything more repulsive.
Overcome with compassion, he forced himself to look closer. When his eyes reached the manâs face, he recoiled. The features were twisted into a sneer, and the eyes stared with a mocking, inhuman delirium. In that moment Ed knew what had taken hold of the man. He also knew that the presence inside him recognised him in return.
Sickened, Ed muttered, âYou bastard.â
The voice that came back was not the manâs. It laughed with derision. âI am killing him. In a few days, he will be dead. And do you know, there is nothing you can do about it. Because it is already done.â
Ed understood that the man was beyond human help. Possession had overtaken him completely, and disease was finishing what the spirit had begun. Lorraine later reflected on what they had seen. Demonic influence, she said, was dehumanising. When a person gave way to oppression, the spirit reduced them to a state lower than an animal. The derelict in that alleyway was beyond illness or destitution. He had been stripped of his dignity and left to wallow in filth because the entity inside him delighted in degradation.
Ed took the incident as a harsh lesson. It confirmed what he had always taught in lectures: the phenomenon was not psychological alone. âThe phenomenon is imaginary only to those who have never witnessed it,â he told Brittle. âThese are not psychological demons. These are entities.â
This encounter became one of his starkest examples. It showed not only that possession was real, but that demons were intelligent, conscious adversaries who recognised those who stood against them. The entity in the alley did not need an introduction. It knew Edâs name, his work, and the lives he had already pulled from its grasp. That recognition was chilling proof of the personal nature of the struggle he had chosen.
The work of Ed and Lorraine Warren was filled with controversy, but for Ed there was never uncertainty about the reality of what he faced. He described demons as intelligent, destructive, and relentless. Their weapons were deception, fear, temptation, and corruption, all leading toward the same goal of possession. The cases he and Lorraine documented, from families in quiet New England homes to a derelict dying in a New York alley, were offered as proof.
Edâs message remained consistent. Curiosity was dangerous. To play with occult practices was to invite forces that would not leave willingly. Ignorance left people unarmed, and disbelief gave the demonic room to act without challenge. He often repeated that the greatest victory demons achieved was persuading people they did not exist.
In his own words: âThe phenomenon is imaginary only to those who have never witnessed it. These are not psychological demons. These are entities.â
This was the warning he carried through every lecture and every case. Demons, he said, are present, deliberate, and aware of those who oppose them. They do not forget. That certainty, drawn from decades of experience, was the conviction that defined his lifeâs work.
Source Material for this article:
The Demonologist: The Extraordinary Career of Ed and Lorraine Warren
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