Messenger - Vol. 3, No. 1, Page 19 Fall 1993 Psychic consultant As a young homemaker raising two boys, Czetli would astound visitors, and surprise herself, by answering questions before they were asked. For me, it's like a screen moving inside my head, not unlike watching TV. Sometimes, it's like looking at a slide that's been shot from a certain angle that captures a movement or scene." That's how Nancy Myer Czetli, Delaware '67, describes her intimate contact with mysterious moments from the past. Living with flashes and glimpses of history is all part of a day's work for Czetli, one of the country's better-known and highly respected psychic consultants. For nearly two decades during which she has been involved in investigations of more than 200 homicides, 100 burglaries and dozens of missing children searches, Czetli has worked with law enforcement personnel throughout the country, helping find clues that, many times, are critical in solving the crimes. Her seminars and classes are well-received. She has addressed staff from numerous police departments, as well as members of the Harvard Homicide Associates, the FBI Retraining Academy and the International Identification Association. She discovered her abilities in Newark, Del., a few years after graduating from the University with a bachelor's degree in Spanish and a minor in English. As a young homemaker raising two boys, Czetli would astound visitors, and surprise herself, by answering questions before they were asked. She also would find herself giving detailed information on complex topics, things about which she had no prior knowledge. On one occasion, she tried to relieve a friend's anxiety about a skin grafting operation by offering a detailed description of the step-by-step procedures prior to the friend's upcoming doctor visit. After the woman left, Czetli questioned her own sanity for making up such a story. When the worried friend returned, she thanked Czetli, telling the psychic that her description was almost word-for-word the specialist's explanation. Eventually, news of Czetli's abilities spread and her small living room in the development of Scottfield was filled with people who would stop by to ask questions and experiment with her newfound skills. The unique, free entertainment sessions would continue until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Czetli had to set limits. "It was if they were playing with a video game," she recalls. "They could not stop asking questions." But, since she was able to provide accurate answers, the fascinated neighborhood audience kept coming back for more. Today, sitting at her kitchen table in Munroeville, Pa., outside Pittsburgh, looking at police photos of murder victims and file mug shots of stern-faced criminals is how Czetli-the mother of two sons, 23 and 21, and a 16-year-old daughter- spends a good portion of her workday. She also gives seminars on developing individual psychic ability through proper meditation and conducts individual consultation with clients through scheduled telephone sessions. Czetli describes herself as a "sponge" that picks up information and translates it into language. Frequently, she sits in front of her television and contradicts the local meteorologist's forecasts. She compares her weather-forecasting ability to telepathic traits found in animals. The clues Czetli has discovered range from the straightforward to the bizarre. In one murder case, she was asked to describe the weapon. When she visualized a potato, the psychic thought that she had lost her mind. Nevertheless, she told the investigators her answer. The police immediately brought out three heavy sculptures-a potato, a tomato and a banana. They needed to know which one had been used in the crime. In a Maryland stabbing death, the police had 32 suspects. Czetli suggested that the victim knew her murderer and had not been afraid of the killer because she had baby-sat him years earlier. Able to visualize the confrontation-as if standing beside the participants at the time of the incident-Czetli saw the violent scene and said there was a second person in a getaway car parked in the driveway. When police handed her nearly three dozen photos of their suspects, she selected the man whose thought patterns, she recalls, most closely matched the murderer's. The suspect was the victim's nephew, a young carpenter, whom she had watched as a child. The driver of the getaway car eventually turned informer for the state, and the nephew was arrested, convicted and sentenced to life in prison. The police said it would have taken them months to interview all their potential suspects and, quite possibly, the killer might have escaped. Being at the scene of the crime is not necessary for Czetli, who usually works from photographs at home. "I try to avoid crime scenes," she says. "It's too powerful. The information overwhelms me." Working in a silent, secret world, entering violent places that no one else, except the criminal and victim, has been, can be frightening and depressing. But, she says, it has its rewards. The most satisfying, she says, is "finding children alive." Czetli is the first to admit she's not correct 100 percent of the time, but she said her high rate of accuracy often enables police and the victims' families to continue looking for important clues. Eventually, the clues may help resolve unanswered questions and, ultimately, close difficult cases. "Up front, I tell them, 'I'm no cure-all, but I'll do my best,'" she says. Czetli cannot point to any one source for her psychic ability. Her father's family, the Myers from Bridgeville, Del., were known for having extreme success in handling animals. Her father, the late Frederic Myer, Delaware '39, had a career in the U.S. State Department as an agricultural adviser. Czetli and her siblings-Susan Myer Scott, Delaware '63, and David E. Myer, Delaware '72-grew up overseas, in such exotic locales as Brazil, Afghanistan, Chile, Ecuador and Lebanon. Her mother, Harriet MacCutcheon Myer, is also a U.D. alumna, with a 1969 MFA degree. Having been exposed to different cultures-and not being pressured to conform to "accepted" teenage standards-may have allowed Czetli to nurture her independent spirit and special abilities, she suggests. One wonders if her ability ever scares her. "It would terrify me if it ever disappeared," she admits. "If I woke up and it was gone, I'd be afraid of making decisions without it." Can she read a person's mind? "Sometimes," she answers softly. -Ed Okonowicz, Delaware '69, '84M