The X-Files

(whistles the theme from "The Brady Bunch")

So what do you think, man?

What do I think about what?

That's the Brady Bunch house. That's the house where they shot The Brady Bunch.

Are you on crack? Does that honestly look like the Brady Bunch house to you?

From inside it does. Straight up, dude.

I was there delivering a pizza last night,

and the guy who lives there is all, like, trying to crowd the door so I can't see inside.

But then he drops his Crazy Bread and bends down,

and boom, I see it all, man -

the Brady Bunch house.

- I'll prove it. - No, wait.

What are you doing?

Blake? It's midnight, man.

My honour is at stake, man.

All right, nobody's home. Let's go.

Come on.

It's not even locked.

You're trippin', dude.

See?

I told you.

This is exactly like on the show.

Look at this. That weird horse sculpture.

And the vase that Peter broke. Mom always said "Don't play ball in the house."

Remember that one?

- I don't understand this. - Who's on crack now, huh?

Hello?

Remember the episode where Marcia broke her nose?

She got hit with a football, right?

- Screw this, man. I'm out of here. - Daley, don't be a puss.

Daley!

Hello?

Bobby?

Cindy?

Wait. Wait.

Come on, man. Come on.

Oh, God.

Oh, my God.

I'm tellin' you.

No. I don't see how.

Well, how else do you explain it?

The guy falls from a plane or, I dunno, maybe a helicopter.

Out the door, and then... (whistles)

Barn.

Simple as that.

And how did he wind up in a helicopter? He was busy breaking into a house at the time.

Details.

What you got?

Maybe nothing.

- You the people from the FBI? - Michael Daley?

Is someone finally gonna arrest that freak?

How about you tell us what you witnessed, and we'll go from there?

What I witnessed was freaksville, man. My friend was murdered.

Who'd have thought this could happen at the Brady Bunch house?

- That's not the Brady Bunch house. - Yeah, it is.

I know it doesn't look like it, but it is. That's where they shot the show.

No, they shot the show on a sound stage in Hollywood.

The house in the exteriors is a split-level in Studio City. I took a picture of it once.

I'm telling you, it's like some kind of creepy Brady Bunch museum in there.

I told the cops to search it, but they wouldn't.

But whatever the hell happened to Blake, it happened right in there.

Oliver Martin?

Mr Martin, I'm Agent Reyes. This is Agent Doggett. We're with the FBI.

- This is about the death across the street? - Yes. May we come in?

- I already talked to the police about this. - Yes, sir. We know.

As I told them, I didn't see or hear anything. I wasn't home.

- This guy's stonewalling. Kick the door in. - Shut up.

I'm really kinda busy.

Mr Martin, just five minutes and we'll be out of your hair.

Unless you want us to get a warrant, and then... we could be here for hours.

Right in here, see?

What happened?

This isn't what I saw.

None of it.

It's all different.

Where'd it all go?

I'm... not following.

What happened to all the Brady Bunch stuff?

Mr Daley was under the impression that your house was used for filming The Brady Bunch.

Well...

it wasn't.

I know what I saw.

What are you lookin' at?

I wanna check somethin' out.

Aha.

Hold this, please.

Aha.

Twice with the "ahas".

Roof's been patched. When I was inside I knew I smelled fresh plaster.

So are you gonna fill me in?

our eyewitness places the deceased inside this house just prior to his demise.

we found a fragment of roofing shingle at the scene of the impact.

It would seem it matches the discarded piece you now hold in your hand.

there's a hole in the roof, recently patched, this big around.

Connect A to B to C.

Much in the fashion of, say, Daffy Duck or Wile E Coyote,

the deceased shot up through the roof, flew high in the air and landed on his buddy's car.

- You're serious? - A to B to C.

I gotta tell you, I think I'm finally getting the hang of this job.

Case number 14-308.

Blake McCormick, a well-nourished Caucasian male, 24 years old.

I will begin with my external examination.

And here is a likely place to start.

Agh!

Help me out here, Agent Scully.

Monica thinks I'm losing my marbles. What can you tell us about what happened?

For starters, Mr McCormick was dead before he landed on the car.

His skull was pulverised from a previous impact.

And judging by the roofing material that I found in the wound,

I'd say that Agent Doggett's theory holds water.

Like I asked Agent Doggett, how exactly can that be?

- Electricity. - How's that?

Or maybe electricity is only a by-product, I'm not really sure, but...

I had an odd experience today, and it made me think to try something unusual.

I borrowed an EEG machine and I wired Mr McCormick to it.

And for the last few hours he's been putting off a faint reading.

- Are you saying he's alive? - No. He's dead as a hammer.

What I'm reading is residual electricity, like a battery that's draining off its charge.

It's fascinating. I mean, I've never seen anything quite like it.

But what does it mean?

If Mulder were here,

I'd imagine he'd talk about research linking electromagnetic fluctuations to levitation...

poltergeist activity, ghost sightings...

Ghosts and poltergeists? That's what Mulder would say?

At the end of the day, I wouldn't have any theory that was any better.

And I don't now.

Here's to you, buddy.

Well, folks, I made pork chops and apple sauce.

What is this, man?

What in holy freakin' hell is this, man?!

Please, leave.

They were here. I saw 'em. I saw 'em all!

Leave, before it's too late.

I saw the Brady Bunch.

Oh, my God. What are you doing?

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God!

Aaargh!

Over here, guys. Get the body in the background.

Smile. All of Southern California's watching us scratch our heads in confusion.

Let's go get some damn answers.

I've said all I'm gonna say to you people. You don't like it, go get your warrant.

He called your bluff.

- Maybe we can get a warrant. - Yeah.

"Judge, I wanna toss the house of a man who makes people magically zoom into the sky."

"It has something to do with electricity and poltergeists and whatnot."

- Yeah, that'll fly. - (phone rings)

- Doggett. - (Scully) So the owner won't talk, huh?

- Excuse me? - Smile. You're on TV.

Ahh.

I'm in Los Angeles, at the field office.

I've called in someone whom you'll both wanna meet.

April 4, 1970. 10.36am.

Present for this test are John Reits, speaking, and Anthony Fogelman, age 8. Hello, Anthony.

Are you ready to begin? Good.

Now, relax.

Relax and focus.

Almost immediately, the EEG is registering an increase in fast beta-wave activity on all leads.

Theta activity is rising as well.

Oh, my goodness. Oh, my goodness...

Well, there you have it.

My right hand to God, all four blocks rose off of the table

and spiralled halfway to the ceiling before they fell.

Too bad that wasn't on film.

The understatement of a lifetime.

Whatever phenomenon caused this, I also believe that it radiated

an electromagnetic field strong enough to fog the image.

Well, don't be polite. Call me crazy. Everybody does.

I believe you.

Did you recognise that kid? That was our suspect, Oliver Martin. Right?

I went through Mulder's reference books. Van Nuys, California, 1970.

One of the best-documented cases of what was thought to be poltergeist activity.

It focused on a young boy, Anthony Fogelman, who has since changed his name.

And Dr Reits was the parapsychologist who investigated it.

Objects flew around the house. Rooms would grow inexplicably cold.

Strange voices would be heard. Anthony's mother was at the end of her rope.

I spent six months with her and her son.

- Six astonishing months. - What did you learn?

That Anthony was as bewildered as everyone else,

but that he was responsible for all of it.

- He was psychokinetic. - He was the Mozart of psychokinesis.

In your line of work, why would you fall out of touch with the Mozart of psychokinesis?

Over time... Anthony's abilities faded.

The last few months I was with him, there were no manifestations of it whatsoever.

He lost his power.

We're lookin' at him for two murders. What can you give us that we can take to a judge?

Was he an angry kid? Was he violent?

I can't say what he grew up to be. I... haven't spoken to him in 30 years.

But the Anthony I knew was a lonely little boy.

- Bye. - Bye.

This is a message for Oliver Martin.

Oliver, I believe I knew you years ago as Anthony.

This is Dr John Reits calling. Remember me?

It's been far too long, and, uh, I'd love to talk to you.

I'd really... like to catch up.

Obviously, uh, you're all grown-up now.

It's funny. I have trouble picturing that.

My God, how time flies.

But, uh, anyway, you can reach me any time on my cellphone.

714-555-0146.