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The shots of the studio and of the satellite feed faded away, and a heartbreaking tableau faded in, a grid of photographs.

Fourteen children, each just six or seven years old, each smiling, each now, the viewer knew, dead. "They will feel the love and cherishing of their being back there.

"It might not show, but I should be learning from it all. We talk about his past life and his present one, and about the strange voyage that divided the two.

We talk about some of the stories he tells in best-seller list nearly a year after its release.

The shot of the three hosts occupied most of the right three quarters of the screen.

A guest was joining them by satellite from another location, and a shot of his head and shoulders occupied most of the rest of the screen.

We also talk about some of the stories you won't find in the book, stories I've heard from current and former friends and colleagues, and stories I've pulled from court documents and medical-board complaints, stories that in some cases give an entirely new context to the stories in the book, and in other cases simply contradict them. Oz and Larry King and all of his other gentle interrogators have helped perpetuate, Dr.

The banner below the video feeds read, HOPE IS NOT LOST: NEUROSURGEON SAYS HEAVEN IS REAL."Dr. His authority on heaven hadn't come from prayer or contemplation or a vote taken at some conclave. And although a lot of people might make similar claims concerning visits to heaven and the receipt of personal revelations from God and be roundly dismissed, Dr. He was, as the Fox News Web site declared, a "renowned neurosurgeon." A man of science at the summit of the secular world.

It was another unusual question and perhaps that's why Kilmeade prefaced it with a reiteration of what made their guest uniquely qualified to answer it. Alexander," he said, "your book, your book—and you're a neurosurgeon, you never believed in this until it happened to you, and you were brain-dead for a week, and your friends who work in your business say that there's no way you could have possibly come back, there was no activity there. "Alexander nodded along as the man posed the question and again answered without pausing.

"The shooter is in a place of reviewing his own life," he said while the camera showed Gretchen Carlson wiping the tears from her eyes.

Its exterior is red brick, and there are eleven windows along the front, each with white trim and black shutters, making the house look sort of Jeffersonian, sort of Monticelloesque, though it's actually only forty-nine years old, which makes it ten years younger than Alexander himself.

He's wearing jeans and a button-down shirt and a sweater vest, and he leads me through a wood-paneled study to the kitchen, where he asks if I'd like a cup of coffee. The room is homey and filled with family pictures and some paintings by friends of his wife, Holley, who's an artist and art teacher.

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Alexander," Carlson said, "if people don't know your story, you, you were ill, you were in a coma, you left this earth for a week, you were in heaven, and then you wrote about your experiences there, and you were told that you were supposed to come back to the earth."She paused. And when he answered the unusual question, he did so without hesitation, without hedging, and with the same fluency and authority he might exhibit when comforting a patient about an upcoming operation."Well, they will know what happened," Alexander said, and a hint of sadness swirled in his own eyes for a moment.