The story is a staple of urban legends. You’ve likely heard it in whispers or seen the terrifying, head-spinning cinematic version. For decades, the real identity of the boy known as "Roland Doe" was the most guarded secret in the history of the paranormal. Most people assumed the child who inspired The Exorcist either died in an institution or spent his life in the shadows of a psychiatric ward.
He didn't.
If you are looking for Roland Doe still alive in 2026, the short answer is no. But the real story is actually more incredible than the movie. The "possessed" boy didn't grow up to be a monster. He grew up to be a literal rocket scientist.
Who was the real Roland Doe?
His name was Ronald Edwin Hunkeler. For seventy years, only a tiny circle of Jesuits and researchers knew that. He lived a completely parallel life. In one reality, he was a case study in demonic possession—the kid who supposedly levitated and had words like "hell" carved into his skin by invisible claws. In the other reality, he was a brilliant engineer.
Ronald Hunkeler spent nearly 40 years at NASA. Think about that for a second. The kid who was once tied to a bed while priests shouted Latin at him ended up helping the United States put a man on the moon. He even patented a specialized technology that helped space shuttle panels withstand the blistering heat of re-entry. It’s a wild pivot.
He died on May 10, 2020. He was 85 years old.
Why the mystery lasted so long
Honestly, Ronald was terrified. Imagine trying to have a professional career at the Goddard Space Flight Center while knowing that the most famous horror movie of all time was based on your childhood trauma. A companion of his later told the New York Post that he lived in constant fear of his colleagues finding out.
He wasn't religious. He didn't want to talk about it.
Every Halloween, he would leave his home in Marriottsville, Maryland. He was convinced that if people knew who he was, they’d never let him have a moment of peace. He’d be a spectacle. A freak show. So, he stayed quiet. He worked. He lived.
It wasn't until a year after his death that the Skeptical Inquirer officially outed him as the real Roland Doe.
Roland Doe Still Alive: Separating the Demon from the Man
The 1949 exorcism wasn't just one event. It was a grueling, months-long ordeal that moved from Cottage City, Maryland, to St. Louis, Missouri. The details were recorded in a diary by Father Raymond J. Bishop.
Was it actually possession?
That depends on who you ask. Skeptics like Joe Nickell have pointed out that Ronald was a lonely, clever 14-year-old who had recently lost his favorite aunt, Harriet. She was a spiritualist who taught him how to use a Ouija board. Shortly after she died, the "manifestations" started.
- The Sounds: Scratching behind walls, dripping noises, and objects flying.
- The Physicality: Scratches appearing on his body in the shape of words.
- The Behavior: Violent outbursts and screaming in guttural voices.
Father Walter Halloran, one of the last surviving priests from the ritual, eventually admitted he never saw anything he would definitively call supernatural. He saw a troubled boy who was very good at throwing things when people weren't looking.
The NASA connection
It is a strange irony that a man whose early life was defined by the unexplained spent his adulthood dedicated to the most rigid of sciences. Hunkeler wasn't just a paper-pusher. He was an innovator.
His contributions to the Apollo missions are documented. He worked on the panels that protected astronauts. It’s almost poetic—the boy who survived the "fires of hell" spent his life protecting others from the literal heat of the atmosphere.
When he died of a stroke, his secret died with him, at least for a few months. He never gave an interview. He never signed a book deal. He just wanted to be Ronald Hunkeler, the engineer.
What we can learn from the "Exorcist" boy
We often want these stories to have a dark, lingering ending. We want the house to be haunted forever. We want the victim to be "marked." But Ronald Hunkeler's life proves something different.
- Trauma isn't a destination. You can go through a terrifying, public ordeal and still build a life based on logic and contribution.
- Privacy is a choice. Even in the age of the internet, he managed to stay anonymous for seven decades.
- The truth is usually messy. It wasn't just "a demon" or "a lie." It was a grieving kid, a terrified family, and a group of priests doing what they thought was right.
If you’re still looking for traces of him, you won't find much. His home has been sold. His patents remain. The "Exorcist house" in St. Louis is still a private residence, though the current owners probably wish people would stop staring at it.
The man is gone, but the mystery of what actually happened in that bedroom in 1949 remains one of the greatest "what ifs" in American history. Just know that the boy survived. He did more than survive—he reached for the stars.
To truly understand the legacy of the case, look into the 1949 Washington Post articles that first broke the story; they provide the raw, un-Hollywoodized accounts of what the neighbors actually saw.