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  CHAPTER · FOUR

  Lizzie Borden House

  Another notorious haunted property we investigated with a macabre and violent history is the Lizzie Borden House in Fall River, Massachusetts. My father and I were vendors at a paranormal conference held in Las Vegas, Nevada. You always meet interesting people at these events and this time was no different. While sitting at our booth selling our Haunted Times Magazine, we were approached by a young woman and an older-looking gentleman. They stood over us for a few moments before I looked up and engaged the woman’s glance. She said, “Hello” and I simply replied, “Hi.” She went on to tell us that she was the manager of the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast Museum and asked if we would be interested in conducting one of our Ghost Hunter University events at the house. We were looking to expand into different markets and this seemed like a great way to get our name out on the East Coast. I accepted and said we would be in touch to set up details.

  I’ll be the first to admit I didn’t know much about this location or its history. All I knew was the creepy nursery rhyme that went: “Lizzie Borden took an axe, and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one.” So I knew it was time to give my mom, the sleuth historian, a call to see if she could fill me in on the details. When I told her about the opportunity that we had to not only teach a class at the Lizzie Borden House, but also conduct a full-blown investigation, she was very excited. She told me about the terrible crime that had taken place at the house in the late 1800s. Apparently, it was the site of a legendary double homicide—an unsolved axe-murder. According to police reports, someone had attacked Lizzie Borden’s stepmother with an axe in one of the upstairs bedrooms while she made the bed. The attacker then went on to brutally kill her father, Andrew Borden, with the same axe while he rested on the couch in the downstairs parlor. When interviewed, Lizzie claimed she was in the barn eating pears during the time of the attacks. She stated when she entered the house she discovered her father’s body and in horror called to the maid who’d been washing windows outside, exclaiming, “Bridget, come quick! Someone has killed Father!”

  At this point the police were called in, but they completely bumbled the investigation. Not only was the crime scene trampled through by dozens of people involved in the investigation, but the public was also allowed in to see the crime. Sensitive and crucial evidence was completely destroyed within minutes. Photography was still a very new technology, but they were able to bring in someone to shoot the crime scene photos, which, while grainy, are still some of the most disturbing images photographed to date. The maid and Lizzie were both interviewed, since they were the only people within the crime’s vicinity. The police took what evidence they had, but weren’t quite sure how to proceed with the investigation. They researched several people of interest, including relatives and business associates of Mr. Borden, but the trail quickly turned cold. It was quite well known that Andrew Borden was a shrewd businessman who wasn’t afraid to step on toes to get what he wanted. He was also considered quite the miser. He had accumulated a great deal of wealth throughout his life but never seemed willing to spend it on anyone, including his family. At the time, things like indoor plumbing and refrigeration were becoming commonplace, especially for people of wealth. Andrew Borden would have none of that. He kept his family in what was considered an average house with no amenities. He even forced the family to eat spoiled meat to avoid waste.

  Lizzie had a taste for a better life and pleaded with her father to move them to one of the mansions up on the hill, a much more prestigious neighborhood in their town of Fall River, Massachusetts, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. As the police narrowed down their list of suspects, they took into account Lizzie’s hot and cold relationship with her father. The police kept an eye on the house night and day. On the night of the murders, the police saw something extremely disturbing—lights appeared in the basement and, as the police officers watched, Lizzie attempted to burn an article of clothing in the incinerator. When questioned about why she was burning the clothing, she stated she had gotten red paint on one of her dresses and it had to be destroyed. Things were quickly becoming clear to the police. When they conducted a second investigation of the basement, they found the head and partial handle of an axe in the dirt beneath the washbasin. They felt they had their smoking gun. Lizzie Borden was arrested and charged with the murders of her stepmother and father. She was held in prison for nearly a year while the highest profile trial in United States history took place in the small town of Fall River, Massachusetts. Lizzie’s sister, who was out of town at the time of the murders, was her staunchest supporter, standing by her side throughout the legal battle. Lizzie maintained her innocence throughout the course of the trial and would regularly exhibit dramatic emotional swings. In the end, the jury of twelve men decided a female couldn’t possibly have the strength or rage to carry out such a heinous crime, and Lizzie was acquitted of the murders.

  Though she was exonerated by a jury of her peers, the townspeople gave her the verdict of guilty and whispered and shunned her everywhere she went, including church. She ended up buying a house on the hill as she had always wanted and went into seclusion. Lizzie and her sister had a sudden disagreement and went their separate ways, never to speak again. Lizzie lived out the rest of her life as a recluse, only associating with actors and actresses at get-togethers at her home. She never married and left her fortune to charity. On her deathbed, it is said she made a confession but the contents of that interaction were never disclosed. In the end, no one ever found out if Lizzie did it or who the true killer was. It was—and remains to this day—the oldest unsolved axe murder in American history.

  I was completely fascinated by this account and looked forward to our event. A few weeks later, I contacted the manager of the bed and breakfast and we set a date for three months out. It seemed like an eternity for the day to arrive. When it did, my mom and I flew into Boston Logan Airport and rented a car. We had our arrival day to kill so we decided to drive to Salem, known for the famous witch trials, and conducted an investigation at the Hawthorne Hotel, which was known for its extremely high level of paranormal activity. We were given full access to the building and the marketing director accompanied us on our investigation. The evidence we collected was incredible, including a picture of ectoplasm in the shape of a child’s foot. The marketing director invited us back to do a Ghost Hunter University event at her location in the near future.

  The next day we made the very long drive to Fall River and, as odd luck would have it, just as we started out, a heavy snow began to fall. In the days before GPS units, we had to rely on a map, which wasn’t helping much. It wasn’t hard to find Fall River, but it was nearly impossible to find the famous Lizzie Borden House. We drove aimlessly through the snowy streets looking for anything that would point us in the right direction. At one point, lost in a residential area, we asked the postal carrier if he could tell us where the house was. Unfortunately, we still weren’t accustomed to the heavy Massachusetts accent and became more lost from his directions. I can still remember the frustration we felt, knowing we had to find the house since our class was scheduled to start at 5:00 pm sharp. My mother and I were getting a bit testy with each other from the strain. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, we saw the sign for the house and with a sigh of relief, quickly pulled in.

  The house was remarkably tall and, even though it was covered with snow, you could see the dark green paint peeking through. As we drove alongside the house, I thought it was interesting that there was a front door facing the street, but the side door with a porch looked more like the main entrance. Immediately in front of us, there was a smaller building that we later found out was the reconstructed barn that now served as a business office and gift shop for the manager and owner. We parked in the lot behind the house amongst a few cars that belonged to staff and individuals taking the museum tour.

  We got out of the car and
gathered our equipment. Because we were late, we knew we had to set up quickly. We tromped to the back porch and lifted our gear onto the landing. Knocking on the back door got no response, so I tested the doorknob and it opened. I gently opened the door and was immediately bombarded with a rush of toxic energy. The only way I can describe the feeling was being bowled over by some terrible virus that immediately left you weak in the knees and sick to your stomach. It was extremely hard to take the first step inside the door, but when I did, everything hit me all at once. My mother quickly followed and when I looked at her face, I knew she was experiencing something similar.

  Before the two of us could discuss what was happening, the manager summoned us into the kitchen. We walked down the hallway, passing a staircase on our right, as well as a closed door. The hallway was tight and had a very claustrophobic feeling to it. When we walked into the kitchen, it felt like a large room even though it wasn’t. The manager was there and welcomed us in before introducing us to her friend who was busily cooking. She explained we would have a small class that day. While I listened, I looked throughout the room, noting the skillful way they had made a modern kitchen look authentic to the time period of the murders. The manager asked if we would like a tour before the event and we accepted, but I explained we needed to set up our equipment first. She motioned us into a room off the kitchen where we would conduct our class. It was a small dining room and the projection screen we had requested wasn’t there, so we had to improvise by putting up a white sheet on the wall for a presentation. While we were in the midst of setting up, I noticed several artifacts from the murders, including crime scene photos, newspaper articles, writings, and actual artifacts from the scene of the crime. I was fascinated how the energy imprinted itself inside the structure. I was well aware this crime had taken place more than 100 years earlier, but to me, it felt like it had just happened.

  Once we were set up for class, we returned to the car to get our suitcases and find out where we would stay that night. The manager directed us up the staircase and said our room was on the second floor. We climbed the narrow, winding staircase up one level and entered the room she gave us. It was a large bedroom with what appeared to be a smaller bedroom connected on the far wall. I told my mother she could have the large room, taking the small room for myself. We put some of our things away before heading back down to meet the manager for our tour. We started back in the kitchen and then moved on to the dining room where we had set up for the class. She explained to us that it was the room the police used for the autopsies and that the bodies remained there for quite some time while the investigation took place.

  At this point the reality of the situation dawned on me. We exited through a second door of the dining room into the parlor area with a couch resting against the wall. A Ouija board and books sat on another wall. Knowing the very real risks of using a Ouija board, especially in a place like this, I cringed. The manager explained this was a replica of the couch on which Andrew Borden had been murdered. She showed us how the attacker had approached and killed Mr. Borden, according to police calculations. She brought us into the front room where the interviews had originally taken place. It contained very pervasive, oppressive energy. Leaving the room, we walked into the front entryway, which was surprisingly small. We then followed her up the front hall staircase and I chuckled as I saw a sign halfway up the stairs that read something like, “We’ve already had two severe head injuries in this house; watch your head.”

  At the top of the stairs there was a bathroom off to the left. Directly in front of us was another room with an open door. As we walked in, I immediately noticed a mannequin with an ornate period dress and hat. The manager noticed my interest in the clothing and asked, “Did you ever see the Lizzie Borden movie that starred Elizabeth Montgomery?”

  I said, “I don’t think so.”

  She told us that was the dress Elizabeth Montgomery wore in the movie. I smiled at my mother and she smiled back, both of us recalling my childhood watching reruns of Bewitched.

  The smile on my face quickly disappeared as I felt something ominous on the other side of the bed. I slowly walked through the room to get near the area where I felt the disturbance. As I got close, I felt lightheaded and experienced a severe pain in my temple, which caused me to grasp the side of my head. “What happened over here?” I asked. The manager grabbed a picture from a nearby dresser and handed it to me. It was the crime scene photo of Mrs. Borden, who was hunched over on her hands and knees, blood everywhere. I was standing in the exact spot her murder had taken place. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. It was as if I experienced some of the feelings she felt during the murder.

  I couldn’t figure out if this was a recording—a timestamp of sorts that I was experiencing—or if Mrs. Borden was consciously reaching out to me to try to explain what happened. My mother saw my expression and grabbed me by the arm and gently pulled me away from the spot, knowing things could quickly get worse. My mom had been experiencing so much empathic resonance I was surprised that she was able to continue on the tour.

  As we left that bedroom, we turned to our left. I think I expected to see a hallway, yet we were immediately in another bedroom. Lizzie’s room didn’t emanate any true energy for me, but I could see my mother was experiencing quite a bit. While the manager was talking about the room, I was primarily interested in moving the tour along. We moved through Lizzie’s sister’s room without incident and ended up back in the room in which we were staying. Before the manager opened her mouth, I noticed a picture of Andrew Borden hanging on the wall. I realized that this was, in fact, his room. She explained that the room I was staying in was actually the dressing closet. It was impressive to think of anyone having a closet that large, especially at that time, considering it now held a large bed and furniture.

  She took us up one more flight of stairs to the third floor where there was a series of smaller bedrooms. She explained this was where the maid, Bridget, lived at the time of the murders. She also said there was quite a bit of paranormal activity reported in this area from guests who stayed on this floor. Most of those reports had to do with the spirits of children running through the rooms, laughing and playing. It was interesting how different the third floor felt from the previous two floors, almost disconnected. By the time we descended the stairs, a small group of students were arriving and we knew we needed to begin our class.

  As the attendees gathered and found seats in the room, I realized we hadn’t seen the basement area, something I’d been drawn to since we walked in the house. It would have to wait until after class. Though a small group, everyone responded extremely well to my Ghost Hunting 101 class and asked several great questions. After the presentation, we had a small dinner where the group could talk to one another and ask my mother and I additional questions.

  The attendees were then taken on the same tour we had taken earlier, but they were taken through the basement as well. We pulled out all of our equipment, which included cameras, EMF meters, voice recorders, and of course Frank’s Box, which at this time was still one of the larger units. When the group returned to the kitchen, I asked them if they were ready to go on a ghost hunt of the Lizzie Borden House. Everyone was excited, including my mother and I. We felt that with our equipment and expertise, especially the Ghost Box, we could get some genuine answers to what had taken place there unlike any investigator before us, paranormal or otherwise. Though the house wasn’t large, we really hadn’t planned where to start our investigation. So we decided to do an open-air EVP session in the parlor where Andrew Borden was murdered.

  We tested the room for EMF spikes, and found several that weren’t made by natural causes. (EMF spikes have always been associated with paranormal activity, so many investigators believe that spirit energy carries high levels of EMF.) We were also encouraged by the photographs we had taken, seeing quite a bit of orb energy in the room. We were able to document orb movement on the night v
ision video camera as well. We conducted an EVP session where each attendee had a chance to ask a question to the spirits of the house. Upon reviewing a few minutes later, we were all surprised at the level of spirit interaction on our recording. We had captured everything from an elusive Class A EVP to DER EVP as well. The group was revved up by our evidence.

  We decided to go to the room where Mrs. Borden had been killed for the next portion of our investigation. Of the ten people in our group, I asked for three volunteers to stay outside while the rest of us went in. I did a short presentation on residual energy and how it could affect us in the physical plane. I asked the group to not say anything as I brought in one volunteer at a time. I led each individual to the spot where Mrs. Borden was killed and asked them to close their eyes, relax, and let their bodies do whatever came to them. I stood behind them as they closed their eyes and each time, one by one, they started to wobble back and forth before eventually falling either backward or forward. As I caught them and they opened their eyes, they were completely stunned by the experience. I explained the residual energy that was still present in that spot and how they were becoming part of what had taken place, experiencing something similar to what Mrs. Borden had. It was an incredible opportunity and a great teaching tool.

  We walked through more rooms, obtaining readings and taking pictures with many great results, but no matter what I did, I was focused on going to the basement to conduct a Frank’s Box session. After finalizing an investigation on the third floor, I told the group we were heading down to the basement to have a two-way communication with the spirits that remained in the house. There was a deafening silence at first, and then a nervous buzz that traveled throughout the group. We descended the stairs, all the way down to the back hall, where we walked towards the kitchen but stopped at the door just before we entered.

  This was the entrance to the basement. The light was already on in the hall, but it didn’t seem to do much to illuminate the rickety staircase leading down. I led the group into the main room of the cellar and, while it was cold outside, the level of chill in the air was something indescribable. It seemed that from the main room there were smaller rooms attached that were being used for storage. I could clearly see the outline of a coffin and I have to admit that it startled me. The manager explained to me that it was used as a Halloween prop for the house and I breathed a sigh of relief. I also explored a small room in the back of the basement that was being used for laundry and food storage and there was something about it that made me feel uncomfortable, so much so that I couldn’t stay there for long.