When Michael Jackson Saved Me From a Deposition
A True Account of Spirit Contact on the Day the King of Pop Died
Part I: June 25, 2009 – The Day Everything Changed
By Dr. Janet Kira Lessin
The Context: Years of Legal Hell
To understand what happened on June 25, 2009, you need to understand what we’d been living through.
Since 2001, our life in paradise had turned into a legal nightmare. We lived on a dirt road in the Hawaiian jungle, where an ancient stream from the mountain crossed our path. When it rained up high—not where we lived, but up in the mountains—water would rage across the road, turning it into a torrent.
That’s what killed our friends.
Jack was driving Celeste and Athena to a party at our place when the stream flooded. He tried to cross anyway. The car was swept away. Jack, Celeste, and Athena drowned. Only Harold and one other passenger escaped, nearly drowning themselves.
For years afterward, we were caught in a web of lawsuits. Celeste and Athena’s grieving parents sued everyone they could find—Chaz (who was hosting the party), us (because it was at our property), anyone connected to that terrible night. A wealthy land developer who’d been buying up property around us saw an opportunity and joined the legal assault, trying to take our home.
We were poor. They were rich. Same old story, different century, different island.
By June 2009, we’d been living under this legal siege for nearly eight years. The depositions were grueling. Expensive. Soul-crushing.
June 25, 2009: The Deposition
The deposition was scheduled for that morning. Unlike a trial where witnesses wait outside, in a deposition all parties are present—both sides get to hear everything said. It becomes public record.
That’s why we were both in that conference room together, along with the attorneys, the court reporter, and Donald Sanger—the wealthy land developer who’d been systematically trying to take our home. When he bought the 265 acres around us, he bought himself into all our legal troubles, including lawsuits from Celeste and Athena’s grieving parents.
My husband Sasha—a clinical hypnotherapist with a Ph.D., brilliant and gentle—was questioned first. I sat there watching them literally torture him with hostile questioning. Watching my dearest beloved being torn apart, drained, wrung out.
When they finally finished with Sasha, I knew I was next. My heart was already starting to race just thinking about facing them.
The News That Stopped Everything
Lunchtime. A brief reprieve before I’d have to take my seat and face the questions I’d been dreading for weeks.
Then one of the attorneys from the room next door burst in like he’d been waiting for us to pause. None of us expected the news that stopped everyone cold.
“Michael Jackson just died.”
The room went silent. Then chaos. Everyone started talking at once, remembering Michael, sharing stories, caught up in the shock of losing the King of Pop. For those few precious minutes, the lawsuit was forgotten as we all processed the impossible news that Michael Jackson—the Michael Jackson—was gone at only 50 years old.
When lunch ended, reality crashed back. Time to resume. Time to face the questioning.
I took my seat. The court reporter prepared her machine. I raised my right hand and swore to tell the truth.
And that’s when it happened.
The Intervention
My heart launched into tachycardia—a violent, irregular pounding that felt like my chest might explode. At the exact same moment, I felt a presence zoom up to my right ear. I swear I felt breath on my face, though no one was there.
A voice—his voice—spoke directly into my consciousness: “Tell them you’re sick.”
But there was no delay between hearing and speaking. The words came out of my mouth at the precise instant I heard them in my head: “I feel sick.”
How is that even possible? I was speaking and being spoken to simultaneously, as if we were one voice, one intention.
The attorneys didn’t hesitate. Papers flew into briefcases. “We’ll have to reschedule,” someone said, already halfway to the door. Within seconds—and I mean seconds—they were gone. Packed up, out the door, into the hallway.
I sat there, blinking, my heart still racing.
By the time I stood up and walked to the hallway, the entire building was empty. Every office. Every room. Even the front door stood wide open, as if everyone had simply vanished into thin air.
I walked outside in a daze and got into my car.
I started driving, still wired, heart still racing from the tachycardia. I had to focus—navigate through town, watch for traffic, get home safely.
I never drive with the radio on. My whole life is input—other people’s thoughts, ideas, demands. There’s hardly room to be ME. So driving, especially on quiet country roads, is my meditation time. My only space to just breathe and be.
As I left town and reached the rural stretch where I could finally relax and cruise, that’s when it started.
“I’ll Be There”
I heard it—clear as day, though no radio was on. Michael’s voice, singing the old Jackson 5 classic: “I’ll Be There.”
“Just call my name, and I’ll be there…”
The song looped in my mind—or was it in my ears? I couldn’t tell. But I knew. I knew.
And here’s what struck me later, when I had time to think about it: Michael was incredibly polite. He waited until I was safely out of traffic. He let me get through the demanding part of the drive so I could focus. He knew I was wired, knew that even the thought of facing that deposition had been hard on my soul.
The music played at full volume as I drove, but when my phone rang, the volume automatically turned down so I could have a conversation. When I hung up, it gradually crept back up until it reached FULL VOLUME again.
Same thing with sleep that night. He let me fall asleep. But every time I got up to use the bathroom, there it was again—loud and clear.
Michael Jackson had just saved me from that deposition.
The one who’d been attacked by powerful people his whole life. The one they’d destroyed with false accusations, media persecution, and finally—many believe—deliberate harm. He understood what it was like to be vulnerable, targeted, fighting for survival against people with unlimited resources.
And in my moment of greatest need, when I was alone and terrified, he came.
But he came respectfully. Considerately. Waiting until I was safe. Managing the volume so I could function.
He was there—but he was there for me, not just at me.
Maybe I did help raise such a good boy after all.
Going Home
When I got home, I found Sasha in his office. “Honey,” I said, still shaking slightly, “I think Michael Jackson is haunting me.”
He looked at me carefully, reading my energy. He’d seen this before—I’d been visited by the dead many times over the years. “Tell me what happened.”
I told him everything—the deposition, the heart palpitations, the voice, the simultaneous speaking, the instant evacuation of the building, the music that wouldn’t stop.
The music was still playing. All night, Michael sang his greatest hits in an endless loop in my consciousness, with “I’ll Be There” repeating between each song. It was like being stuck in an elevator with the Jackson 5, except this elevator was my mind.
I tried to sleep. Every time I got up to use the bathroom, there it was again: “I’ll be there…”
By Friday evening, after a full day of this, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was doing dishes after dinner when I finally said to Sasha, “I feel like I’m going to go crazy.”
“We should do a session,” Sasha said. “See if we can actually contact him. See what he needs.”
I agreed immediately. We scheduled it for Saturday morning.
And that’s when something shifted.
The music didn’t stop—Michael was still there—but the volume dropped dramatically. It became bearable. Background instead of overwhelming. As if Michael knew he was finally getting help and could ease up on the intensity.
He didn’t want to burn me out. Didn’t want to take me with him.
Even in his desperate need, he was being considerate.
I had no idea what I was agreeing to.
[To be continued in Part II: The First Session – When Michael Wailed Through Me]
NOTE: The deposition was never rescheduled. The lawsuits eventually settled. To this day, I believe Michael Jackson intervened from the other side to protect me in my moment of need—just as his song promised he would.
Dr. Janet Kira Lessin is a researcher, author, and experiencer who has worked with souls in transition for over five decades. She lives on Maui with her husband, hypnotherapist Sasha Lessin, PhD. This is the first in a series documenting her extraordinary encounters with Michael Jackson’s spirit in the weeks and months following his death on June 25, 2009.
Dr. Janet Kira Lessin is a researcher, author, and experiencer who has worked with souls in transition for over five decades. She lives on Maui with her husband, hypnotherapist Sasha Lessin, PhD. This is the first in a series documenting her extraordinary encounters with Michael Jackson’s spirit in the weeks and months following his death on June 25, 2009.
IMAGE 1 — FEATURED HEADER
THE DAY EVERYTHING STOPPED
🎨 DALL·E (best for cinematic realism + composition)
Prompt:
A photorealistic, cinematic wide-angle shot of an empty legal conference room immediately after an abrupt evacuation. Chairs pushed back unevenly, papers left on the table, a court reporter’s chair slightly turned. Late afternoon sunlight streams through tall windows, casting long shadows. No people. The room feels suspended in time—quiet, eerie, but realistic. Ultra-detailed, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, emotional realism, professional photography style. Landscape 16:9.
🌈 Gemini (best for atmosphere, light, subtle emotion)
Prompt:
A realistic office conference room after a sudden interruption. Sunlight filters through large windows. Chairs are out of place, documents remain on the table, and the room is completely empty. The feeling is stillness after urgency—calm but uncanny. Natural light, realistic textures, subdued colors, emotional depth, cinematic realism. Landscape orientation.
🧠 OpenArt.ai (best for mood + editorial symbolism)
Prompt:
Empty deposition conference room, papers abandoned, chairs pushed back, sunlight slicing across a polished table. No people present. Mood of sudden departure and unresolved tension. Realistic, photorealistic, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, fantasy realism, highly detailed, emotional depth, artistic composition. Landscape, 16:9.
IMAGE 2 — CONTEXT
THE ROAD THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
🎨 DALL·E
A realistic cinematic landscape of a rural Hawaiian dirt road crossed by a mountain stream. Lush jungle vegetation, volcanic earth, mist in the distance. Water flowing calmly but with power. No people, no vehicles. Natural beauty with a subtle sense of danger. Photorealistic, cinematic lighting, ultra-detailed, landscape 16:9.
🌈 Gemini
A quiet jungle road in Hawaii where a natural stream flows across the path. Dense green foliage, soft mist, earthy textures. The scene feels peaceful but serious, hinting at past tragedy without showing it. Realistic lighting, grounded realism, emotional restraint.
🧠 OpenArt.ai
Remote Hawaiian dirt road intersected by an ancient mountain stream. Lush jungle, volcanic soil, flowing water. No human presence. Realistic, photorealistic, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, fantasy realism, highly detailed, emotional depth, artistic composition. Landscape.
IMAGE 3 — WAITING
WAITING OUTSIDE THE ROOM
🎨 DALL·E
A cinematic, photorealistic image of a woman sitting alone in a quiet office hallway outside a closed conference room door. Her posture shows tension—hands clasped, shoulders slightly forward. Soft daylight, muted colors, no visible faces in detail. Emotional realism, professional cinematic photography, landscape 16:9.
🌈 Gemini
A solitary woman seated in a silent office hallway near a closed meeting room. The space is empty, softly lit, and tense. Focus on posture and atmosphere rather than facial detail. Natural light, subdued palette, emotional realism.
🧠 OpenArt.ai
Woman sitting alone outside a conference room, empty hallway, hands clasped, quiet tension. No dramatic gestures. Realistic, photorealistic, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, fantasy realism, highly detailed, emotional depth, artistic composition. Landscape.
IMAGE 4 — THE INTERVENTION
THE ROOM EMPTIES
🎨 DALL·E
A photorealistic legal deposition room moments after a sudden evacuation. Chairs pushed back abruptly, documents scattered, briefcases left open. Afternoon light floods the empty space. No people visible. The mood is urgency frozen in time. Ultra-detailed, cinematic realism, landscape 16:9.
🌈 Gemini
An empty deposition room with signs of abrupt departure—papers on the table, chairs misaligned. Sunlight fills the room. The atmosphere is quiet but charged, as if something unexpected just happened. Realistic, restrained, emotionally grounded.
🧠 OpenArt.ai
Abandoned deposition room, scattered papers, chairs pushed back, empty space. Sunlit, quiet, uncanny. Realistic, photorealistic, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, fantasy realism, highly detailed, emotional depth, artistic composition. Landscape.
IMAGE 5 — THE DRIVE HOME
I’LL BE THERE
🎨 DALL·E
A cinematic, photorealistic view from inside a car driving along a quiet rural Hawaiian road at golden hour. Warm sunlight, open countryside, peaceful atmosphere. No radio visible, no text. The mood is calm, protected, intimate. Ultra-detailed, cinematic lighting, landscape 16:9.
🌈 Gemini
A peaceful drive along a rural road during golden hour, viewed from inside the car. Soft sunlight, open landscape, gentle motion. The scene feels safe and reflective. Realistic lighting, emotional subtlety, grounded realism.
🧠 OpenArt.ai
Interior car perspective driving on a quiet country road at sunset. Warm golden light, peaceful surroundings. Realistic, photorealistic, cinematic lighting, soft natural colors, fantasy realism, highly detailed, emotional depth, artistic composition. Landscape.
