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Lorn Macintyre

Back in June 2021, I was contacted by the Scottish paranormal researcher and author, Dr. Lorn Macintyre.

Dr. Macintyre contacted me almost exactly two months after my awakening–by four days.

While he mentioned that his friend’s name was Margarita, he never disclosed what she was looking for or why. I did not want to pry. A part of me was grateful to still have some family in Scotland and confirmation of the genealogy being as difficult for them as it had proven to be for me.

She was not a DNA match on, nor had a link to a family tree that I was aware of. There was some indication or slight hint that she and Lorn doubted my blood relation to the Roe family and, specifically, Jonathan. He thought maybe I was from Thomas. I assured Dr. Macintyre that I had a DNA test and that Alexander’s son, Douglas, was my grandfather. My father, Richard, was Alexander’s grandson. This was via their information, family photos, and birth certificates.  So if Alexander was of Jonathan, then so was I. So the question was who Alexander’s father was. However, I believe the birth certificate says Jonathan Roe.

Dr. Macintyre did say that she was small and blonde like me. As far as I knew, I was the only natural blonde on my father’s side (my cousin Sadie had long highlighted and dyed her dark hair).

A month or so later, I went to visit my father in Nevada. I told him of Dr. Macintyre and his inquiry. He seemed unmoved. All he said was, “they won’t find my wampire. They won’t find anything.” Any time I asked for more information, he stalled or changed the subject.

I did ask him to take a DNA test and he ignored my request. I made the same request of his twin, my uncle Bob, but never heard from him.

My father was quite ill during my visit. We had thought his illness was cured. Nine months after Dr. Macintyre first contacted me, my father passed away. Before he died, I was able to share with him something Lorn sent–a photo of his great-grandfather, Jonathan Roe. I had never seen a photo of the Roe family and I doubt my father had either, or at least not that he mentioned. Whatever my father knew, he either told others or took with him.

Lorn had received the scanned photo from Margarita. I never received any other photos of him or the Roe family. Nor did I ever hear directly from Margarita.

Dr. Macintyre mentioned that her mother was Jonathan’s daughter. That would make her the half-sister of my great-grandfather. Margarita would be contemporary with my grandfather–who had passed away in 2006. If her mother was Jonathan’s youngest child, with him passing in the 1930s, that would make her near or in her 90s. No mention was ever made of Margarita’s age, but I would doubt her to be as young as me since she was at least a generation or two prior.

I enjoyed receiving Dr. Macintyre’s messages. I wish we could have assembled all the pieces to this mystery.

But that was not the way of the Kindred.

My great-uncle, Jonathan’s grandson, was named Roland (Woland). He was Alexander’s youngest child. I spoke with him on the phone only once. He mentioned that he would visit Newfoundland regularly and still owned my great-grandfather’s house there. A part of me was afraid it was why I was being harassed. I had never seen the house, but years ago I had a dream of a white house. There were people bound on the grass outside while Barak Obama gave a speech. I noticed that I was not bound and he told me I was free to go. I went around toward the garage of the house and then into the kitchen. I heard a woman with an Australian accent say that was exactly what she wanted. My husband, Noel, was at the table across from me and looked quite sullen. On the table next to us was a blonde woman who had a large abdominal injury–almost like a c-section but it took most of her abdomen. I doubted she was alive. On the refrigerator was a photo with an “x” over each eye. A note told me to ask John about his uncle who had become a demon after death. I walked into the living room to see a group of people being led to an attic. Their hands were bound behind their back. A red-headed teenage boy began screaming at me to wake up. So I did.

Roland also mentioned going to Edinburgh annually. Maybe he got to what they were looking for first. I am not sure if he knew Margarita or other family there.