I Went to College with Pope Leo XIV — What He Did at 2 A.M. Still Haunts Me

It’s not every day you can say you went to college with the Pope. But I did. Long before he was Pope Leo XIV, he was just Giovanni Benedetti, a quiet, studious seminarian with sharp eyes and a sharper mind. We attended the Pontifical Gregorian University together in Rome. And while most of our days were filled with theology lectures and long nights of study, there’s one particular night I will never forget — and it still sends chills down my spine.

It was 2002. Exams were approaching, and we were pulling yet another late-night study session in the common room. Most of the other students had gone to bed. Around 1:45 a.m., Giovanni suddenly stood up without a word, walked out into the hallway, and disappeared.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Maybe he went to get water or pray — he often did that. But 15 minutes passed. Then 30. Something about the silence felt…off. I finally decided to go look for him.

What I found still unsettles me.

There he was, kneeling alone in the chapel, completely still. The room was pitch black except for a single candle he had lit in front of the crucifix. He was whispering — not praying aloud like usual — but whispering fast and fervently, in Latin. I couldn’t catch all the words, but I recognized parts of an exorcism rite. His hands were shaking. His voice was urgent, as though he were pleading or warning someone… or something.

I stepped back, unsure whether to interrupt. Then suddenly, he stopped. Slowly, he turned and looked at me — and I’ll never forget the look in his eyes. It wasn’t fear. It was something deeper, more solemn. As if he had seen or heard something no one else could.

He stood, walked past me without a word, and went back to his room. The next morning, he acted as though nothing had happened.

I never asked him about that night. And I never told anyone — until now.

Years later, when I saw the white smoke rise from the Sistine Chapel and heard the name “Pope Leo XIV,” I felt a chill. I remembered the candle, the whispering Latin, the look in his eyes. I don’t claim to know what happened that night. Maybe it was a personal spiritual battle. Maybe it was something darker. But whatever it was, it left a mark.

Now, as I watch him lead the Catholic Church with such unwavering discipline and spiritual intensity, I realize that moment was perhaps the first sign of the man he would become. A man not just of deep faith, but of mystery, burden, and conviction.

And while the world sees a Pope, I still see the student who knelt in shadows — confronting something I still don’t understand.