Charlottesville, Virginia. Spring, 1963. Our professor, Ian Stevenson, is at his desk, taught to show glasses on the tip of his nose. He switched on his coffee percolator. To his left, a tall stack of newspaper clippings. He starts reading through each one. The professor is looking for that one case of reincarnation which will put a stop to all of those jokes at cocktail parties. In one case, just one case is all he needs. Or, as Dr. Jeffrey Long says, It only takes one white crow to prove that not all crows are black. Yeah, Stevenson needs his one white crow. One case that suggests that reincarnation is real. Then you'll get the recognition he craves, not from tabloids and gossip magazines, but recognition from his peers. I mean, serious academic types. Then, he sees it. An article about Mr. Pollock, John Pollock of England. A story which began 13 years earlier. We're in Hexham, England. It's 1950. A cold Saturday morning in January, John Pollock is at his piano in a haze of pipe smoke. He's been trying to master this particular piece for some time, but the kids are outside making a racket. He heads for the back door and tells them to keep the noise down.

Jacquelyn Pollock, one of his two little girls who will die in that terrible accident eight years later, is now just three years old. She's riding round on a little tricycle, dressed in a red wool in coat, round and round she goes. Their mom, Florence Pollack, has just left a metal bucket of hot soapy water on the backstep. She's about to wash some clothes. One of the boys is trying to get a kite airborne, while the other is riding on a little wooden toy police car. As the kite takes flight, Jacquelyn watches it soar up into the air with glee. But she's not looking where she's going. She's distracted. She falls onto that metal bucket, causing a wound, a deep wound above her left eye, a wound that bleeds profusely onto her red coat.

I can just imagine Florence rushing out, the blood pouring down Jacquelyn's face, and Florence scooping her up and rushing her off to hospital. And yeah, I think Jacqueline needed to have three stitches.

That's Lauren again, Florence's granddaughter. And remember, she's learning about this at pretty much at the same time as we are, from newspaper cuttings and other stuff that we've dug up. Because this is all a family secret. Her grandparents, John and Florence, died before she was born, and her father, who also died, never talked about any of this. So Jacqueline's wound. In time, that wound will heal. It will heal but leave a scar, a scar that she'll have for the rest of her short life. A scar still present as her body is laid to rest after that horrific accident. But the wound, which left a scar, will then turn into a birthmark. As Florence Pollack gives birth to twin daughters. A birthmark on their new little daughter, Jennifer. Jennifer, the reincarnation of Jacqueline. Thirteen years later in Virginia, Ian Stevenson cannot stop reading because there's more. It's not just that little Jennifer has a birthmark above her eye.

Yeah, she had a birthmark on her waist. It was like a brown thumbprint.

And guess what? Her dead sister, Jacquelyn, had a birthmark in exactly the same place. So birthmarks, twins, now the professor is interested, and there's much, much more. Maybe, Stevenson thinks to himself, maybe this is the case, the case that will prove his doubters wrong. And then the professor has an idea. He decides to take a little trip, seeing as believing, after all. Stevenson starts to type a letter. Is the Pollet case his one white crow? This is Extrasensory, an Apple original podcast, produced by Blanchard House. I'm Will Sharp. Episode 2, One White Crow. May 1957, Hexham Magistrate's Court. Hexham Huge crowds of people are gathered outside, and that's very unusual for this small town. They're all waiting to catch a glimpse of Marjorie Wyn, the woman charged with the deaths of those little children, Joanna and Jacquelyn Pollock, and their friend Tony. Remember, this case is huge. It's front-page news, national news. Back in the '50s, hardly anyone even had access to a car, only the really wealthy. Who is this woman? So there There are some nasty rumors flying around that at the time of the accident, Marjorie Wynne was sleepy, that she was on drugs, and far worse than that, that maybe this wasn't an accident at all, that Marjorie Wynne crashed into those children on purpose.

The crowds outside think, I mean, who does something like that? That would just be evil, right? So they're all here to see what evil looks like.

Yeah, I guess I'm thinking how people would today, and I think it would still be an absolute shock, even with all the traffic that we have on the roads now and all the accidents. A woman killing three little children with her car. I think it would still be front-page news, and people would be absolutely outraged.

And as the crowds wait for Marjorie when to arrive, it's clear that a lot of people really hate her right now. In fact, she's been receiving poison pen letters from across the country, hundreds of them. So the atmosphere is charged. It's electric. And it feels like it's not just the magistrates who sit in judgment here. It all takes place in the shadow of the Abbey, towering over everything. It's as if God himself is also present to pass sentence. At the appointed hour, the police car sweeps in, but anyone hoping to spot Marjorie is disappointed. She's cowering on the floor of the vehicle, hiding her face, avoiding the glare of the crowds and the cameras.

From the newspaper accounts, it seems like Marjorie Wyn is in a really bad way. She had to be helped into court and walked in and led into the dock.

The prosecutor's bench is on the left, defense on the right, straight ahead, the three magistrates. The clerk reads the charge.

Hilda Marjorie Wyn, you are charged under Section 8 of the Road Traffic Act, 1956, of causing the deaths of Joanna Mary Pollack, Jacqueline Theresa Pollack, and Anthony Albert Leiden by dangerous driving.

For most of the hearing, Wynne has her eyes closed. She's been brought here from a mental health facility. A psychiatrist stands up and states that Wynne is suffering from, quote, melancholia, which is an old-fashioned word for depression. He says that she'll need two months' treatment before she's fit to appear in court again. One of the papers even says she'll need electric shock treatment.

You are remanded on bail for the sum of £1,000 on condition that you remain in hospital until you can appear before this court again.

That bail sum is about £20,000 today, or $25,000 US. She's not asked to enter a plea.

Case agent.

And that's it. Marjorie Wyn is helped out of court and into her lawyer's car. And again, those crowds hoping for a glimpse of evil are disappointed. The car takes a back road. Because Marjorie Wyn is the most hated woman in Hexham, maybe the most hated woman in the whole country right now. But there is one man who doesn't hate Marjorie Wyn. One one man who doesn't bear a grudge, far from it. One man who is, in fact, praying for the woman who killed those girls and that boy as they walked to church. And that man is the girl's father. John Pollock. Around two years later, Leeser's Crescent, the removal truck pulls up at 07:00 AM. The removal guy start loading up John's piano, all his books, his records.

I think, apparently, they just packed up their whole lives.

John, Florence, and the kids are leaving Hexon for the last time. And that, of course, means leaving the grave of the little girls, too, Joanna and Jacqueline. Now, a grieving parent might go to the churchyard one final time, lay a reath, say a prayer. But John doesn't do that.

John said in some interviews that he wouldn't even lay flowers down at their graves because it would be hypocritical. Yeah, he believed his daughters weren't dead. So what was the point of laying flowers? They were alive.

Yes, they're alive. And he has them in the car with him. His twins, Jennifer and Gillian, six months old now. So no, he isn't grieving. Why would he be? And Hexam, well, that's all behind them.

New town, new jobs, new lives. And Hexam was never mentioned again. It was totally forgotten.

As the car pulls up and John gets out, he inhales the sea air. He lights his pipe. So he and Florence have bought a grocery store in the coastal town of Whitley Bay. It's a seaside town with a wide beach, a lighthouse, and a sea that can be wild. But why exactly are John and Florence really moving? Is it really just to open a grocery store? Or were they driven out of Hexham? Driven out by the faithful, shocked by John's heresy, his prophecy, outraged by his belief? No, his conviction that his twins are his dead girls, reborn. Remember what one of the locals Pauline told us? Well, that was it. I mean, we never had anything to do with them. Is Whitley Bay John's wilderness, his exile, the place where he'll continue trying to spread the word? Because one thing is pretty clear, John won't be silenced, far from it. In fact, John moves things up a gear. He becomes more vocal. And there's a change in John. He's moving further and further away from the Catholic Church, and he's getting more and more into spiritualism. Yeah, spiritualism. Here's what that means to John's granddaughter, Lauren.

I just I think of it as like, yeah, if people die, that their spirits live on and we can communicate with those people, and whether that's through mediums or whether that's just through your own spiritual connection. But they are there, they are with us, and we can lean on them when we need to. Now, that doesn't necessarily involve reincarnation, but clearly, John believed in reincarnation. I think John believed that the spirits of the dead stick around and then also can be reborn.

The spiritualists are far more open what John has to say, kindred spirits, if you like. John has more and more to say because as the twins get older and they start to speak, more signs start to emerge, signs that they are indeed the reincarnation of Jacquelyn and Joanna. Now, at first, John is just preaching to the converted, people who believe this stuff already. But then somehow it goes wider. It gets picked up in the press, the national press.

John seems very good at getting publicity. I I think probably he had some good contacts in the national press, maybe from the time that the girls had died. But definitely the newspapers seem to like him.

Then one morning, a letter comes through John's door. Strange-looking letter. It's an unusual size, and the stamp doesn't have the Queen's head on it. In fact, it says US Airmail. August 1963, Idlewild Airport New York City. Tan leather briefcase in hand, Ian Stevenson walks up the steps to a Pan Am jet bound for London. He's even sporting one of his bow ties, especially for the occasion. Now, international air travel in the early '60s is still quite a big deal, but it's slowly opening up the world, allowing the spread of radical new ideas. Welcome aboard this Pan Am flight to London. Stevenson boards the plane. He settles into his window seat. The jet engines roar and the plane speeds down the runway. As it reaches cruising altitude, Stevenson accepts a glass of scotch. And clicks open his briefcase. Inside it, there's a detailed plan for his interviews with the Pollux, and also papers from a five-week trip to India and Sri Lanka a few years earlier. Because this is the '60s. In the West, the old ways are being trashed and smashed. People are looking for fresh new thinking, and Asia and the East are having a moment.

There's like a consciousness shift. People in the West are opening their minds. They're opening their minds to the idea that the universe can work in ways that are totally far out. But of course, in India, the idea of reincarnation, it's not exactly far out. In fact, it's just the cosmic order of things, which makes it the perfect destination for our professor to start his research. During his first trip to India, Stevenson puts ads in the newspapers asking people to share stories of past lives, and he gets literally hundreds of responses. But...

Most of it, Ian said, was just total punk nonsense. He didn't think that they were terribly credible.

Jesse Baring is writing a biography called The Incredible Afterlives of Dr. Stevenson. But from what the professor can make out, there are some credible cases in India, and he finds that those credible cases have stuff in common, stuff like dreams in which a dead person tells the dreamer that they intend to be reborn. He also notices that children who talk about reincarn often talked about quite distressing or disturbing, horrific, violent deaths. He guesses that this is, well, because you're just more likely to remember your past life if you left it in a violent way. So Stevenson is mulling all of this over as he crosses the Atlantic and sips his scotch. But there's one thing from his work in India that he wants to go over again. Birthmarks. Birthmarks that seem to be related to past lives. Now, at first, Stevenson is skeptical. Parapsychologist Jim Matlock knows Stevenson's work. He didn't really take them all that seriously. The birthmarks, the physical things just seemed a little bit too far out for him. But the birthmarks just keep coming up. He can't avoid them. In the kids he sees in India, these marks often match closely to wounds from past lives, case after case.

He thinks that once again, horrific deaths might explain the birth marks, too.

Dying through a gunshot wound, for instance, was It was shocking and terrifying and traumatic and painful that it had residue in the current bodily form.

Stevenson finds the trip to India pretty tough. First off, it gets culture shock. Second, in India, pretty much everyone believes in reincarnation. They're brought up believing it, but proving it as fact, now that's hard. Dr. Jeffrey Long specializes in the religions of India at Elizabeth Town College. To be very, very clear, that doesn't mean those cases are false necessarily. But to prove that these are cases of authentic past life memory, you need to have some way to exclude data that children could have received from other sources. Case, which makes the Pollet case very interesting. It's in England, for a start, where pretty much nobody believes this stuff, and it checks a lot of boxes. It has violent death, it has birth marks, and there's even a premonition. Plus, it's a case study in England where he speaks the language. So yeah, for Stevenson, a water tight case in England would be an absolute game changer. It would stop his colleagues snigering once and for all. Ladies, Ladies and gentlemen, shall we be arriving in London? As Stevenson's plane prepares for its final descent to London, he fastens his seatbelt. There's a lot riding on this trip.

Thank you for choosing to fly there. Next day, John Pollock has got to the station early, too early in a way. He's pacing up and down the platform waiting for Stevenson to arrive. The weather is shocking. John's dressed in his formal tweed suit, and there's a new addition to his look. He now walks with a cane. He fell down some steps. It was a bit nasty. John must be tense, right? Maybe he thinks this is all a big mistake. He wants to tell his story, but what if the professor doubts him? Or worse, what if he calls him an outright liar? Meanwhile, Stevenson is on the train north, inching closer to Whitley Bay, and he, I mean, he must be anxious about John Pollock. What if Pollock's just a crank? Stevenson watches the torrential rain against the train window. His father's Scottish, and Stevenson studied in Scotland, so he does know how gloomy the UK can be.

I can imagine they're both really nervous because both men have a massive amount to prove. And Stevenson's come all the way across to the UK, and he's thinking, What if this John man is just crazy?

Finally, John can see the train approaching in the distance at long last. As Stevenson steps from the train onto the platform, the salty air hits him. He's arrived. John Pollock spots the tall lean figure in his rather dapper bow tie, striding towards him. This is it, the start of everything, face to face for the first time. The Professor and the Prophet. Stevenson looks around the Pollock's living room, sizing things up. The twins are down at the beach in spite of the awful weather, and Stevenson is sipping a cup of tea. This is England when in Rome. The carpet is dark, a little bit oppressive maybe, and the walls are covered with photos of the family. Stevenson discreetly looks for a photo of the two girls who passed, Jacqueline and Johanna. But there's not a photo in sight. Seemingly out of the blue, Florence asks Stevenson if he has children. Sadly, no, he replies. He does seem truly sad about it. Florence wears an apron over her clothes and spectacles that make her eyes look kind and large. Now, it seems that Stevenson didn't record his interviews, but this is a version of how we think it might have gone, based on newspaper reports, Stevenson's published accounts, and our own original interviews.

So where should we start? John and Florence look at each other. Something passes between them. John puffs on his pipe. Florence slides a cigarette to steady her nerves.

Yeah, this must have been a pretty nerve-wracking moment. Stevenson's come thousands of miles.

Shall we start with the dolls, Flossy?

Yes, John. All right.

You know, Dr. Stevenson, after Jacqueline and Joanna passed away, we packed up all of their toys in a box and put them in the attic, didn't we, Flossy? Yes, John.

This was in Hexham. It was just too painful. We didn't want to remind the boys of what had happened.

Anyway, when we moved here, of course, we found that box and we decided to give those toys to the twins.

Yes, we thought it was a waste just to have them sitting in a box.

It's a bit unclear how much of this next bit they told Stevenson, but we do know what they told the newspapers and a TV documentary.

Anyway, the strangest thing happened. Flussy, you tell Dr Stevenson what happened next.

Yes, because there were two dolls in that box.

And out of the blue, Jennifer pointed to the one doll and said, That's Mary. And Flossy?

And Gillian pointed to the other doll and said, This is my Susan.

And those names are the exact names that Jacqueline and Joanna gave to those dolls.

The exact names. And there's absolutely no way the twins could have known that.

I find this stuff about the dolls pretty mad because how on earth could the girls possibly know the doll's names? John and Florence were adamant that they'd never told them. So it was just pulled out of thin air, apparently.

But it doesn't end there. John and Florence tell Stevenson that they've always thought that Gillian, the slightly older twin by a matter of 10 minutes, was like the older girl who died, Joanna, while Jennifer, the younger twin, was more like Jacqueline.

And guess what? Completely unprompted. Jennifer claimed Jacqueline's doll, held it to her as if it was hers, and always had been.

And Gillian claimed Joanna's doll?

Completely naturally, just like that. And that was what changed your mind, wasn't it, Flossy?

Yes, that was really the turning point in my way of thinking. Up until then, I doubted John. I thought this reincarnation business was nonsense. I just wanted him to be quiet. But the dolls, well, the dolls, it changed everything.

Because, yeah, remember, Florence had been critical of John. She really didn't want to keep hearing him going on about reincarnation, probably because it was heartbreaking for her. I think it even probably put their relationship under strain. But this stuff with the dolls, that completely changed her mind.

But there's another thing, something else John wants to say.

And do you know what Johanna used to say to me, Dr. Stevenson, before she died? Something she said to me all the time.

Stevenson looks at John expectantly.

I will never be a lady. I will never be a lady. She said that over and over again. She had a premonition she'd never grow up, you see, Dr. Stevenson. And of course, she never did, did she? She never did grow up.

Stevenson looks closely at John Pollock and tries to read his expression. Remember, Stevenson is a renowned shrink. Is this stuff true? Is this man for real?

And on the very afternoon they died. That same afternoon, I had a vision of them in heaven, you know. In heaven. I remember there was one room in the house, at the top of the house, where I could feel them very, very close. I used to go there after they died. Then, of course, I didn't need to anymore because...

But just at that moment, Gillian and Jennifer hurtle into the room. They run up to their parents and show them seashells that they found at the beach. They're wearing matching brown coats and white dresses, and their hair is braided into two perfect plats on each side of their head. They fall very silent when they notice Dr. Stevenson is in the room. They become very shy. He seems impossibly tall to them. Stevenson Stevenson smiles. Jennifer hands him a seashell. Stevenson suggests that they all take a break from the interviewing. The sitting room is filled with smoke from John's pipe and Florence's cigarettes. Maybe they could get some air outside. He has plenty of questions that he needs to ask. He needs to see the birthmarks for one thing. But there's one question in particular that he needs an answer to, and it's crucial to the credibility of this whole story about that horrific accident. Do the twins have any idea what happened? In fact, do they have any idea they have two sisters who passed?

Because, of course, if they already know about the accident, it's easy for them to make up stuff about it. But if they had no idea that that had even happened, that their sisters had even died, that they even existed, then that makes whatever they have to say so much more credible.

July 1957, Hexham Magistrate's Court. Once again, a police car sweeps in with Marjorie Wyn in the back. She's 50 years old and grey-haired, wearing a black and gray check dress. A policewoman helps her out of the car and into the courtroom. She closes her eyes as she waits for the hearing to start. Witnesses will be called, and the magistrates will decide if she'll be sent for a full criminal trial.

Hilda Marjorie Wyn You are charged with causing death by dangerous driving and of being in charge of a car while under the influence of drugs.

At midday, the nurse who treated Marjorie Wyn immediately following the crash takes the witness stand and seems to confirm the rumors that have been going round since the accident two months ago.

Mrs Wyn told me she had taken 14 aspirins and 3 phenobarbitones and had got into her and driven away to end it all.

A forensics officer who examined Wyn after she was arrested is called to give evidence. He states that Wyn had indeed taken aspirin and barbiturates. Marjorie Wynne's lawyer is asked how she pleads. Not guilty. And with that, Marjorie Wynne will face a full trial before a judge and jury in three months time. If she's found guilty, Marjorie Wynne could well find herself in prison. In Whitley Bay, John Pollock has just taken Ian Stevenson down to the beach, but it started raining again. Florence hands Stevenson a towel to dry himself off, and yet another cup of tea. Then, Stevenson asks whether it might be possible to see the birthmarks.

Jennifer, love, come here a moment. Look, stand here, love. Stand in front of Dr. Stevenson. Show him your waist. Look, there it is. There's the one birthmark, and there, just above her left eye. That's the other. Can you see that? Just there.

By now, Stevenson is starting to get pretty excited about this case. Could it be the one? Here's Professor Jessie Baring of the University of Otaago in New Zealand.

Those birthmarks aligning with the head injury from her sister couldn't be explained rationally, Ian thought.

Thank you, love. Go on, run upstairs.

Flossy, tell Dr. Stevenson what Gillian said about the birthmark.

Yes, I remember Gillian saying to me one time, This is the mark Jennifer got when she fell on the bucket. But of course, that wasn't Jennifer that fell on the bucket. It was our Jacqueline all those years ago. She needed three stitches.

Yes, it was Jacqueline who cut her head on the bucket, the daughter who would later die in that horrible crash.

Florence is adamant that she never told Gillian about the accident with the bucket. So again, how could Gillian have known?

How indeed, unless Gillian and Jennifer were recalling a past life. Then, John goes to a drawer and pulls out a photograph. A photograph of Jacqueline, and it's startling. Stevenson can clearly see the scar above her left eye. He can't believe it. There's no way that John could be making this stuff up.

And one more One more thing, Dr. Stevenson, about that scar. After the girls died, I had to go to the hospital mortuary to identify their bodies, and Jacqueline's head was bandaged just above her eyes in the same place as that scar. Is that another clue, I wonder?

It could be, Mr. Pollack. It could be. So this now seems like the right time for Stevenson to ask the crucial question, the one he's come three and a half thousand miles to ask. Do the twins know they had two sisters who passed away? The atmosphere in the room changes.

Oh, no, we've never told them. Never told them. As you can see, we don't even have any photographs of. We kept all the photos in a draw.

Well, as far as we know, that's roughly what John might have answered, and we'll explain to you why later on. Have you ever talked to them about the accident?

Oh, no. No, we've never talked about it.

No, no.

Then Florence gives Stevenson a strange look.

But they talk about it.

Stevenson leans in.

The accident, that is, I've heard them discussing it more than once.

But You've never spoken to them about it?

No, never mentioned the accident. And the thing is, they talk about it as if it's happening right there and then. We're living it, you know?

And what things do they say?

The car's coming for us. It's coming for us.

For the parents to be watching their two little girls reliving an awfully traumatic experience, going through all of that again would have been awful. Also for the twins, it would have been horrifically terrifying.

Stevenson shifts uncomfortably in his chair. This is all starting to feel almost intrusive.

And that's not all. Come on, tell Come on.

Have I got to, John?

Look, he's got to know Florence.

Stevenson leans in further. His pen poised over his notepad.

One time, I found Gillian cradling Jennifer's head in her hands, saying, The blood's coming out of your eyes. It's coming out of your eyes. That's where the car hit you.

You've been listening to Extra Sensory, an Apple original podcast, produced by Blanchard House and hosted by me, Will Sharp. The producer is Popy Damon. Extra Sensory is written by Lawrence Grisell. Additional production by Seron Jones. Original music by Daniel Lloyd Evans, Louis Nank, Manel, and Tobi Matimong. Sound design and mix engineering by Volcan Kiseltug and Daniel Lloyd Evans. The part of John Pollock was played by Peter Peverly, Florence Pollock by Jasmine Hyde, and Dr. Ian Stevenson by Mark Arnold. The Pollet Children are played by Francisco and Edi Pi Bola and Stevie pie. Other parts by Jasmine Hyde, Mark Gillis, Ben Fox, and Saul Boyer. Research by Alan Sargent. Fact-checking by Jessie Baring and Karen Walton. Our managing producer is Amika Shortino-Nolan. The creative director of Blanchard House is Rosie pie. The executive producer and head of content at Blanchard House is Lawrence Grisell.