Katie Coutts - The Ghost Whisperer - A Real-Life Psychic’s Stories

At this point I thought that of course he would be devastated. Here was a handsome young man, his life in front of him – a whole life tragically cut short in a horrifying way. ‘Gary says you must stop fretting and regretting that you didn’t view his body. This was his wish. Although you were broken-hearted at his sudden death, I know more sadness followed when you changed your mind about seeing his body but were refused permission. Gary would not have wanted you to see him like that. The only person to see Gary in his coffin was his brother, and that was purely for identification purposes. No one got to see him, not you, nor any of his close friends and none of his family. He was in a dreadful mess physically.’

I can only describe Caroline’s face by saying it was chalk white. She gave a tiny sob and I begged her not to hold back the tears. I told her crying was a hugely important part of mourning and that she was doing herself no favours by holding her feelings in. Everyone was worried for her. Gary was worried for her!

‘I love him, Katie, I truly loved him!’ I remember Caroline’s broken words to this day. Oh, how they tug on my heart-strings. All I wanted to do was go over to Caroline, put my arms around her and take her very severe, almost tangible pain away from her.

However, I continued to relay what Gary was saying. ‘Did Karen make it?’ he asked. He seemed to have no way of knowing whether Karen was alive or dead.

‘He seems worried about Karen. He’s asking if she made it? What does he mean by that?’

It turned out Karen was his pillion passenger – a friend from his early childhood. Caroline just nodded. I passed the vague message back to Gary, assuring him that Karen had made it.

‘I told him not to buy that motorbike,’ Caroline almost spat the words. She seemed angry now, angry that her loved one had been taken. I still wasn’t 100 per cent sure what the exact cause of death was, although I was fitting the pieces together. At this point I heard the screeching of tyres, then a sudden bang, several different types of screams and breaking glass. The sound of metal hitting metal made me cringe. Then everything went silent. I knew for sure now that Gary had been on his motorbike and had fatally crashed.

I then heard him ask about the van. As soon as he mentioned the van, two pictures came into my mind. I saw a small, red, rusty-looking van. I also saw a little girl wearing a turquoise dress and hat. She couldn’t have been more than four or five.

‘Did Gary hit a van?’ Caroline nodded. ‘Was there a little girl in the van wearing a turquoise dress?’ Again, Caroline nodded. ‘Do you know where they are now, Caroline?’ Caroline looked up, tears streaming down her pained face and spoke in a childlike voice, ‘The little girl escaped with only cuts and bruises.’

‘And her father?’ I blurted out, not knowing who was in the van with the little girl.

‘He broke a few bones but he’s alive.’

‘Is Gary in any pain?’ Caroline asked. I heard him reply that he was free of pain. He proceeded to tell me that he knew very little at the end – it had all happened so quickly. All he remembers was seeing the little girl as the van swerved into his path. He didn’t see the driver, and after that he only vaguely remembers lying at the side of the road, obviously very injured but feeling extremely calm and happy. ‘My gran was there at the accident,’ Gary told me. I passed this on to Caroline, who told me that Gary had been devastated by the death of his beloved gran a matter of only months before his own death.

I explained to Caroline that Gary did not have to make the journey to heaven alone, that his gran had come to take him personally.

As Gary began to fade, I heard Neil Diamond singing ‘Sweet Caroline’. But, I didn’t know whether to tell Caroline this for fear it was gimmicky – it was an obvious song for a girl named Caroline. However, I did decide to tell her, and she said that it wasn’t corny at all. She could relate to it entirely as Gary had sung that song many times since they met. It was his favourite karaoke song (even before meeting Caroline), and he sang it to her less than a week before he died.

So ‘Sweet Caroline’ did indeed have significant meaning for my client.

Dearly Loved David

Mother and daughter sat opposite me, both crying sorely for the son and brother they had lost. David had been murdered, his life cut short before he had even reached the age of 20.

The first time these two clients came to see me, I couldn’t get David at all but I did manage to make contact with another young boy who relayed messages of David’s arrival and how he was in the throes of his healing process. This explained why David himself couldn’t come through. At this point, I was unsure if my clients felt any comfort.

A few months later, however, they came back. This time David was as large as life (pardon the irony). I knew someone was there because I was met with the very strong aroma of men’s aftershave. This wasn’t just any old aftershave either – it was much stronger than your everyday aftershave. I asked the significance of this and was informed that David wore cologne imported from the Far East. And the two agreed that it was indeed very potent and powerful stuff!

I then began to relay various messages from David. He told me about the bike race, which my clients watched him compete in a matter of weeks before his untimely death. I almost laughed when David told me about his dental appointment and how he had gone to great lengths to avoid it!

This cryptic message was explained when David’s mum told me that David had a dental appointment, the first in over 10 years, on the very day of his funeral – the appointment was scheduled for 2pm. What did happen instead that day – and at exactly 2pm – was that David’s body was lowered into the ground. No matter how poignant that sounds, David’s mum and sister managed to smile at the thought. They told me how terrified David had been of the dentist and how he had agreed to go purely because one tooth had given up the fight. It had been neglected for so long that it had to be extracted.

I then began to see an image of a motorbike. Standing in front of the bike was a tall guy, not unlike David facially. He was older than David but there was a definite strong resemblance. I could see the man’s face quite clearly – he was speaking into a mobile phone and, for some reason, I just felt that the conversation he was having related in some way to the motorbike.

I then heard David speak again. This time he told me, ‘Colin has sold his motorbike.’ Again, I relayed this to my clients, but they shook their heads, telling me Colin, David’s best friend, wouldn’t sell his motorbike – he loved it. However, I was convinced and stuck to my guns. Colin had sold, or was in the process of selling, the bike. My clients were still unconvinced.

They telephoned me that same evening to tell me that Colin had sold his motorbike – that very afternoon in fact! Apparently, some of his friends were going on a biking holiday and Colin couldn’t go as his bike wasn’t fit for the long journey.

The buyer had begged Colin to sell his bike to him. When Colin refused, the guy was so desperate, he offered nearly double the bike’s value. And who could refuse such an offer?

The Not-so-holy Nun

One thing that never ceases to amaze me is how forgiving some people can be. I’d like to think I am the forgiving type, but as a Leo, I must admit I find it hard more often than not. However, I am often humbled by stories of forgiveness I read and hear, as well as by some of my direct experiences in my work. One such story has stuck in my mind for years. I remember this one vividly, as if it were only yesterday.