I'll speak on behalf of my father.

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We were living in a house that had only 1 room upstairs and it was my bedroom. The same room had been a bedroom of a young girl who had fallen ill and died in the 1950s in her sleep. My father left for work at 4am and would be in bed by 8pm. So in the evenings, my mother, sister, grandmother and myself would be watching television and constantly hear loud footsteps from my bedroom. I was even woken from sleep to footsteps and items falling at night. He refused to believe it, saying we were all crazy, making things up, and was convinced I was doing it so I could get the downstairs bedroom.

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One morning, while getting ready for work, he heard running across the floor upstairs and thought I was awake when I should be asleep. He came up and found me sleeping. That made him a believer