[Rod or Todd]
Look, I’m a Torso Heap!
[/Rod or Todd]
Nothing happened in OJ’s house. The murder happened at his ex-wife’s condo in Brentwood. It was torn down.
That property is around the corner from the house of one of my mother’s oldest friends (since before I was born). She was aquainted with the victim. The endless parade of fucking morons driving by to take their picture in front of that house essentially ruined the neighborhood. What kind of braindead tool would make a special trip to look at a fence and hedge around a condo and then pose for a snapshot?
Haj
Wouldn’t bother me… In fact it would give the house character.
But then I want to live in another haunted house… only haunted by people this time…
Like Eve, my house is over a hundred years old… so suspect SOMEONE has died here at some point…
rolls eyes Oh yeah thats toooooooooooo scary! I’ll hurry and move to a cookie cutter piece of characterless crap in a subdivision 40 minutes awya from the nearest grocery store. eyes rolled
If it’s a good price (especially down here in So Cal!) I wouldn’t give it a second thought.
What I always wonder about stories like this one (guy kills wife, gets remarried, kills other wife) is not “Gee, who’d want to live in that house?” It’s “What in the world POSSESSED the guy’s third wife (and second murder victim) to make her decide to marry him in the first place?” :smack:
(Of course, I work in a place where we constantly run into women who decided to hook up with–and get impregnated by–men who have already begotten six or eight other children by four or five other women. And, no, I’m not talking about movie stars or renegade Mormon polygamists. So nothing should surprise me.)
I think that kind of backfired on Garp – don’t you? The whole car accident thing definitely qualifies as a disaster for me. Houses don’t have just one disaster. I mean, look at Taliesin. That thing’s been the site of a multiple homicide and subsequent fire and then two more fires.
As for me, I definitely could not live in a house where a murder took place. Growing up, there was an abandoned house on the bus route where a young man and one of his “friends”, who had both deserted from the army, holed up for a few days. His friend apparently had second thoughts about it and was talking about turning himself in, which would result in the first guy being turned in as well. The friend was shot several times – it was reported to be quite gruesome. Every time the bus went by that old farmhouse, I got the creeps. Shivers all over. I’m getting weirded out right now just thinking about how close to our house it was. It gets even worse when I realize that my grandparents knew his parents and grandparents pretty well. He was a nice kid – and then he shot somebody.
Nothing happened in OJ’s house. The murder happened at his ex-wife’s condo in Brentwood. It was torn down.
Thanks for the info 
Does this mean we can’t tear down OJ’s house now? Doggoneit …
Not my house, but my friends old house. A mass murder suicide happened in the house (The husband killed wife + kids, then killed self). When his family bought the house, his mom really didn’t know about it until right before she moved in. My friend was about 7 at the time, so she didn’t tell him. Until the first day on the bus all the kids said “YOU LIVE AT THE MURDER HOUSE!” He was freaked out, needless to say. He and his mom were always freaked out, but it was great to give directions to people. All they had to say was “You know that house were the mass murder suicide happened?” The people always knew!
Interesting. A woman burned to death in the kitchen of the home I grew up in. It was two owners previous to my family. The story goes, she was an alcoholic. One time she was drunk and decided to cook. Somehow, she caught fire and, well, died. The sub flooring in the kitchen supposedly is still charred from it.
We moved into the house when I was a year and a half old. I didn’t find out about this until I was in college. I was convinced that my parents weren’t lying to me because it was my mother who started telling the story, and my father, of all people, said “I thought we agreed we’d never tell him.” My dad, the jokester who once told the (complete lie) story to my cousin that our back yard had a revolutionary war-era Indian burial ground, didn’t even want to tell me. And my mom doesn’t make stuff like that up…
Anyway, to get back on topic, there were certainly never any “problems” with supernatural visits. Though passing through the kitchen when returning home late at night went from “whatever” to completely creepy overnight for me…
I think I’d avoid moving into a house where I knew that something grisly happened. Not a big fan of the agonizing death thing. I can understand people not being terribly comfortable with it. Though I’m firmly of the opinion that this is one of those cases where “what I don’t know can’t hurt me”, since I never felt in the least bit spooked by the house till I knew the story.
Does a battlefield count? I lived in Fredericksburg, VA for 2 years or so, on Willis St. Willis St. lies smack in the middle of a field where a very nasty slaughter took place. The street runs parallel to the stone wall below Marye’s Heights about 100’ shy of the wall. During the battle Federal troops repeatedly attempted to rush the wall, but never got a man to it. They all got mowed down, wave after wave. There is a grisly depiction of it in the book/movie “Gods and Generals” (or any Civil War history book for that matter). I’m sure there are plenty of neighborhoods throughout the south on battlegrounds… I wonder how the number of people living there adds up against the number in ‘murder houses’.
For what its worth, I never witnesssed anything odd about it. I am not inclined to believe…
If you have a house that was occupied at any point during the 19th century, chances are somebody died in it. Everybody died at home back then (I mean, if they died of disease or natural causes). I’m not sure when people started dying in hospitals or nursing homes instead, but it was some time during the 20th century. Death used to be a pretty normal thing, and not nearly so distant. (Literally and figuratively, in days of shortened lifespans.)
A guy who used to work at the same store that I work at now committed suicide in one of the apartments in my complex. One of the same floorplan apartments, too. But I have no idea whether it was the one I’m occupying now.
One of the previous tenants of my house killed himself in what is now our office/guest bedroom. I didn’t know about it until last year, when I noticed a woman driving by the house slowly and then stopping across the street to look intently at it. Being the curious type, I went out to ask what she needed, and she turned out to be his sister. I let her come in and sit in the room a while (thank God it’s the one room in the house that’s almost always clean and neat), and she eventually told me that he’d shot himself there three years before we’d bought the house. She and her kids lived here too, and she was the one who found him. She was wondering if I’d noticed any kind of disturbance in that room, or anything strange at all. I reassured her that not only did guests sleep there peacefully, I’d slept in the room myself on occasion, and it’s the cats favorite place to take a nap.
One of the renters who was here just before we bought the house was a spiritualist/psychic/New Age practitioner of some sort. When I first came to look at the place, she wouldn’t let me go into that room, although I could see she had some sort of altar set up in there with candles burning on it. In retrospect, I imagine she was trying to do some sort of “cleansing.” Depending on your perspective, it either was unnecessary or it worked. In either case, the house is still the same house it was before I knew about this. However, now I know why there’s a big thin sheet of plywood over the subfloor in that room - I was going to take it up before we put in permanent flooring, just to see what was wrong with the subfloor, but I believe I’ll leave it alone now.
I didn’t tell my kids that someone had committed suicide in that room. They were here when the sister came by, so they knew she was upset about something, but I just told them her brother died here and left it at that.
My husband gassed himself in the car in the driveway. I went back to the house once for 5 minutes.
We were friendly with our landlords, not friends but friendly. They would pop in for coffee sometimes but that was it. They sold the house 2 weeks after I had all my stuff removed from it. Mrs landlord sent me a sweet note saying she hoped I wasn’t offended but they felt they couldn’t own the house anymore.
The neighbours (cross leased section) put their house on the market 3 weeks later because the teenage children were very disturbed by the event.
People who kill themselves have no idea how much impact their decision has on others.
I hope whoever lives there know doesn’t know what happens. Though I have sat in the car across the road a few times.
What happened that should be. And i hope i din’t frweak anyone out by sitting across the road.
A story about a truck, not a house.
On Christmas morning in 1983, my cousin, who was despondent over a failed relationship, drove to his ex-girlfriend’s house and shot himself in the head with a shotgun. Needless to say, it made quite the mess.
My brother was in need of a truck at the time and bought it from my aunt and uncle. He had to replace the seat (naturally), and had a bit of a time cleaning up some of the…stuff…but never had any problem owning or driving the truck. I rode in it, but was always a little creeped out.
He called it the “Death Mobile” (but not in my aunt or uncle’s prescence).
That’s exactly how the fellow who died in my house met his end. The woman who died in the bed expired from heart failure.
A former co-worker and her husband bought a house where a man hung himself in the garage. She’s not a Jeezoid, but she’s still a devout Catholic. For a long time, she crossed herself whenever it was mentioned. She’d rather not live there, and has not told her kid about it; but the house was affordable (hard to find in the L.A. area) and the neighbour kids spilled the beans to her son. The neighbour kids always want to look in the garage to see where the guy killed himself.
When my wife told me that apartments that have had murders in them are usually a lot cheaper because nobody wants to live in them, I suggested we start scanning the newspapers for potential deals on a new home. I guess I’d have to say it wouldn’t bother me.
—Hey! Despite the Reagan-Neck, I’m not a day over 50!
But this isn’t about if someone merely died in your house. I was curious if someone was horribly murdered in your house if you would find it disturbing.