If Alf and the thousands of other deceased communicators who speak from the other side are correct, Trump is wise to ponder whether he’s going to heaven before he departs this world.
In an interview with Fox & Friends on August 19, 2025, while discussing the challenges in dealing with the war in Ukraine, President Donald J. Trump said:
“I just wanna end it … If I can save seven thousand people a week from being killed—I think that’s—I want to try and get to heaven if possible. I’m hearing I’m not doing well. I hear I’m really at the bottom of the totem pole. But if I can get to heaven, this will be one of the reasons.”
Of course, for the cynical atheists among us, Trump’s words can be seen as delusional rantings designed to appeal to his evangelical base, but for the theists and those who have experienced communication with deceased people—and remain open to it—considering the consequences of this life in the next one is a real proposition.
Trump’s predecessors—Bush, Obama, Bill Clinton, and Biden—have all spoken about their Christian faith, but I don’t recall any of them publicly expressing personal anxiety about whether they would go to heaven when making major decisions that affected the lives of millions of people.
Trump, not known for being a pious Christian, does appear to be contemplating the possibility of how the consequences of his decisions might affect his personal situation after this life. The question is: is that a good idea?
In 1960, at a sitting of direct-voice medium Leslie Flint, mentioned in my book No One’s Dead: The Jesus Messages, a man came through who identified himself as Alf Pritchett, who died in World War I. Alf sounds like a working-class English southerner—a Londoner, probably killed when he was still a teenager.
When asked about the circumstances of his death he replied, “Yeah, I came over during the first lot. 19 … 19 … er … must have been 1917 or 18. I’m not sure meself now. It’s such a long time ago.”
After coming to the realization that he was dead, Alf was taken to what he described as a hospital, where he sat round a table with some others who’d also recently arrived. A man next to him introduced himself, and Alf asked how he was settling in.
“Very nice,” he says. “Much better than what they used to tell us down there innit?”
“So I said, ‘how do you mean?’
“Well, you know what they used to tell us down there, about ‘eaven and ‘ell, and the last trumpet and all that? ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘They’ve got it all wrong.’
“So I says, ‘well, it seems like it, doesn’t it?’
“So he says, ‘yeah.’ He says, ‘all that business about, if you’re very good, you go up to the top stall and if you’re not so good, you’d go down in the old cellar. Ha!’ …
“He says, ‘you seem to have taken it all right.’
“So I said, ‘what else can you do? You’re told you’re kicked … you’re dead. The best thing to do when you’re dead, I should think, is to follow out the instructions and behave yourself. After all, you never know who’s going to be judging on you and all that,’ I said. ‘According to what the old Bible says and what I understood, you got judged.’
“Ah,” he says, “get away with that!” he says. “No one judges you, from what I can make out on it. You judge yourself. You sort of … I know,” he says, “since I’ve been here,” he says, “I’ve been sort of reflecting, you know. Going back a bit on the old past and wondering and thinking about things.” He says, “I realize now, like many people of course, I made many mistakes. I was a bit of a fool, you know, to meself and other people.
“‘But,’ he says, ‘I’m gradually beginning to see now. Even though I’ve only been here a little while,’ he says, ‘there is no such thing as judgment, not in the old-fashioned idea that the old church teaches.’ He says, ‘The only thing is,’ he says, ‘you judge yourself. After all, it’s your conscience,’ he says. ‘I’ve got one, and so have you, I bet. We all have.’
“So I said, ‘well, I’ve got a bit of a conscience all right but,’ I said. ‘Of course, I haven’t lived all that long to have done all that much bad, as far as I know.’ I said, ‘As far as I can remember, the only thing I ever did really wrong was, was drowning a cat.’ … ‘I haven’t done anything really bad. I mean, I ain’t like some of these people. The only thing I can think of doing anything bad, if it is bad at all, and it’s not altogether my fault because I was forced into it, is killed a few Germans,’ I says. …
‘But other people who really, when you come to think about it, don’t risk their lives at all. They sit back and more or less in comfort and smoke their cigars and what have you,’ I said. ‘We’re the ninnies aren’t we?’
“So he says, ‘you’re telling me, boy.’
“He said, ‘you don’t want to worry about those financiers and all the rest of it, they’re all right. They’ll come through all right, but what good will it do ’em? What will they have to answer when they get here? You think that one out,’ he said to me.
“He said, ‘you’ve got nothing on your conscience, mate, but by Christ, they’ve got a hell of a lot on theirs and the others who are responsible for putting us in this position.’
“I said, ‘well, I suppose we shouldn’t have any bitter feelings.’
‘No,’ he says, ‘I ain’t got no bitter feelings but what … annoys me and upsets me, is that these people who are the cause of all this, the mere handful, you might say, compared to the untold millions who have to suffer for it. They’re the ones who are really the ones who have got something on their conscience. When they get here, I wouldn’t like to be in their darn shoes,’ he says.”
Trump’s anxiety over his “post-physical life residential status” may or may not be linked to the two reported assassination attempts or his advancing years. Only he really knows. But Alf’s testimony is a reminder that the totem pole is very long and we’re all on it.
Note: Decades after the Pritchett communication, a World War I grave was discovered listing Alfred (Alf) Pritchett—died August 16, 1917, Ypres, Arrondissement Ieper, West Flanders, Belgium. For anyone who is the least bit curious, you can listen to Alf’s 1960 communication here. Even those who are skeptical—treat it as fiction—it’s full of wisdom.
Jonathan Beecher is the author of No One’s Dead: The Jesus Messages, published by White Crow Books. This article can also be found on Substack.