Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction

Things aren't always what they seem to be.

Some things are beyond belief.

"Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction,"

hosted by Jonathan Frakes.

We live in a world where the real and the unreal

live side by side, where substance

is disguised as illusion, and the only explanations

are unexplainable.

Can you separate truth from fantasy?

To do so, you must break through the web of your experience

and open your mind to things "Beyond Belief."

This drawing has been baffling people for nearly a century.

Some of us see it as a fashionable young lady

and some of us see it as the portrait of an old woman.

So which is it? Young or old?

Or is it both?

Tonight, we will be entertained by stories

that will be based on reality.

Others will be totally fabricated by a writer.

At the end of the show, we'll tell you which is which.

But be forewarned.

The difference between fact and fiction

may be as invisible as the difference

between young and old.

The airplane pilot has been a fixture

in the panorama of American heroes

ever since the Wright brothers.

And no matter how sophisticated the latest computer flight

technology becomes, it's the image of one individual using

brains, skills, and guts to conquer the skies that appeals

to the adventurer in all of us.

Michael Rater's father was such a man.

He was once his son's hero, his mentor, his protector.

And his son grew up to share his father's passion for adventure.

But nothing he ever did would prepare

Michael for the strangest adventure of all.

I hadn't landed at this little airport in a long time.

It was a regular destination for my dad and me in the old days.

All I planned was a quick stop.

This was one trip that wasn't destined to go as planned.

As I walked up to Roger's coffee shop,

a lot memories came rushing by.

I had known Roger since I was a little boy.

So when he asked me if I would deliver a package for him,

of course, I said I would.

Hey.

Michael, good to see you, pal.

- How about some coffee? - Sounds great.

Good.

There you go.

Hey, listen.

I really appreciate you doing me this favor.

You're a life saver.

Hey, anytime, Roger.

You know I think of you as family.

Watching you run up like that, it sure reminded

me a lot of your father.

Yeah, I think about him all the time.

Yeah.

Your dad was a great guy, one of the best pilots I ever saw.

You know, I still miss him.

Me too.

Let me get the package.

Yeah.

I'd almost forgotten

about that photo of Dad and me.

It was a few minutes after it was taken,

and he gave me his wings.

It really upset me when I lost them a few years ago.

Oh, my god!

Oh, my god!

Daddy!

Daddy!

Hey, Michael.

What's wrong?

Is somebody taking your plane?

What the hell?

8-7 Bravo, come in.

8-7 Bravo, do you read me?

8-7 Bravo, do you read me?

8-7 Bravo, come in.

Who took your plane?

Whoever it is, he's in trouble.

He's leaking oil.

Oh, no.

Oh, my god.

Oh, no!

What the... it's empty!

There's no one in there!

Yes there was.

What?

Michael, come on.

Get away from there, Mike.

How could a plane fly itself?

Did Michael leave his engine running with controls

on automatic pilot?

If so, how did those pilot wings suddenly

appear in the cockpit, wings that Michael

had misplaced years ago?

Were they suddenly jarred loose from some crevice of the plane

by the crash, or is the explanation more mystical?

Maybe Michael's father spirit did take the controls

to save his son from harm.

Your challenge is to decide did this story really happen or is

it just a flight of fancy.

Coming up... a woman, home alone, fears for her life.

"Fact or Fiction."

million people in the United States

who keeps a gun in your home.

Whichever side of the gun issue you happen to fall on,

nobody wants to see innocent people harmed.

Tom North kept his gun in a box like this

for years along with bullets, registration

papers, and a manual.

He raised two children through college without incident.

The box was locked tight and stored out of harm's way.

But the time had come now to bring

out the weapon again to help guard

his house from unseen enemies.

This, then, is a story of a gun, a premonition

of terrifying proportions, and the deadliest enemy of all...

fear.

I knew that sooner or later, Tom would want

me to learn how to use his gun, especially

with everything that was going on in our neighborhood.

It always felt so safe and secure inside our house.

But first the people down the block

were robbed, then across the street, and then our neighbors

right next door.

Suddenly, it didn't feel quite as secure as it used to feel.

Tom had been planning to give me the gun for weeks.

He even took it out to a shooting range

so that he could make sure it was working properly.

But as for me, I wasn't as strong as Tom.

In fact, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to pull the trigger.

If that were me...

I mean, if I'd seen that guy in this house...

You know, I am so sorry I wasn't here.

You know the Drakes woke up and found him there,

this guy in a ski mask just rifling through their drawers,

inches away from them?

This guy has really gotten brazen.

Did the police say it's just one guy

that robbed all three houses?

I hope so.

I hate to think our neighborhood would become

a mecca for hordes of hoodlums.

Just what kind of warped mind thinks

that terrorizing a neighborhood is an OK way of life?

I just hope it gets figured out soon.

I don't think this is a good time for me to be traveling.

Maybe I should cancel.

Oh, honey.

Look.

You've worked for this.

You've waited.

We prayed for this promotion.

And now with the kids grown and out of the house,

this is the perfect time for you to follow your dream.

Still.

I'll be all right.

Yeah?

Well, I'll just make sure of that.

Oh, Tom, no.

I'll just end up shooting myself.

- I know it. - No.

This gun only shoots bad people.

Is that what your father told you?

Uh-huh.

And you bought it?

Well, sure.

He was a cop.

He wore a uniform.

He carried this piece.

I'd be nuts to challenge him.

I don't know.

I don't understand these things.

I mean, I don't even feel comfortable

being this close to a gun.

Look, don't worry about it.

We're going to go out to a shooting range.

I promise you, once you get used to using this gun,

you'll see there's nothing to be afraid of.

Well, let's just forget about this.

I'm hopeless.

Hey, you did fine.

Oh, yeah, I hit the target...

barely.

It was your first time.

Look, you will get better.

Sure.

When?

I hope to God you never have to use this gun.

But if you do, you'll know how to handle it.

Yes.

That night, my anxiety

and fear about the gun was very heavy on my mind.

No!

No!

No!