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[Music] Echo call from hollows. [Music] They say luxury never dies. But at the Builtmore Hotel, something else refuses to leave. In the heart of Coral Gables, this grand monument of Florida elegance hides a secret on its 13th floor. The scent of cigar smoke still drifts through locked rooms. Elevators stop where no button was pressed, and doors slam with no wind, no hands, no warning.
It all traces back to one man, F Walsh, a mobster gunned down in his own suite nearly a century ago. Guests say he never checked out. And if you listen closely, you might still hear his laughter echoing through the halls. But the Builtmore Hotel isn't the only rabbit hole of haunting footage. There are six most disturbing internet rabbit holes.
On April 3rd, 2017, an anonymous user posted something on 4chan that would haunt internet investigators for years. Buried in a conspiracy theory tier list was a single entry at the deepest level, the 2006 volleyball incident.
What followed was a chilling claim that 17 to 24 people died at a high school volleyball game somewhere in Nebraska or the Dakotas, and almost nobody remembered it happening. The original poster described a trip to Mount Rushmore in 2006. At a Nebraska gas station, they saw a newspaper reporting shots fired at a small town 10 mi away.
They heard about it again in South Dakota, then once more at a motel breakfast, then silence. The incident supposedly faded from memory until years later during a gaming session when two other people claimed they remembered the same event. The poster ended with haunting words. 17 to 24 people died at once and no one talks about it. The problem is simple and terrifying. There are no news reports, no archived articles, no official records.
Nothing exists to prove this massacre ever happened. Searches turn up empty except for discussions about the mystery itself. For something that allegedly killed up to 24 people, the silence is deafening. Theories spread quickly. Some suggested the Mandela effect, a mass misremembering of similar events from that time period.
Others went darker, claiming government cover-ups and military assassinations gone wrong. The legend grew more elaborate with each retelling. Whispers emerged that footage existed somewhere in the darkest corners of the internet. Then in June 2024, YouTuber Mudahar from some ordinary gamers discovered alleged photo snippets during a deep web browsing session.
The images showed what appeared to be a high school gymnasium with VHS filter effects. Red objects on the floor suggested to be body bags and disturbing stains claimed to be blood. One image bore the markings CBI not for release at the bottom, but investigators began tearing the images apart.
The VHS filter was clearly added in post-prouction and VHS cameras were rarely used by 2006. A Reddit user identified the gymnasium as Udica High School by matching the wall patterns, flag placement, and red scoreboard with actual volleyball game footage from the school. The supposed body bags were simply gym bags.
Error level analysis on the blood photograph revealed clear compression artifacts exclusively around the stained areas, proof of digital manipulation. The most puzzling image showed the lower quarters of four people with CBI not for release text. Some speculated this could reference the Colorado Bureau of Investigation, noting similarities to restricted Coline shooting photographs.
If true, it would mean someone repurposed crime scene imagery from an actual tragedy to fabricate evidence for a fictional one. A post from September 27th, 2017 on the above top secret forum discussed creating a hoax about multiple school shootings erased from public record.
However, this appeared 5 months after the original 4chan post, suggesting someone was simply documenting discussions they had seen elsewhere rather than admitting to creating the original hoax. What makes this legend particularly unsettling is its unfalsifiable nature. The entire premise is that there is no evidence.
The story explains away its own lack of proof by claiming government interference. Yet almost nobody has actually come forward claiming to remember the incident firsthand beyond that original anonymous poster. The most likely explanation is that someone on 4chan in 2017 created an elaborate fiction and years later another person fabricated photographs to give the legend visual credibility.
They took real images from Udica High School, added filters and fake blood, possibly incorporated restricted imagery from actual tragedies, and released them to fuel speculation. What remains is a cautionary tale about the digital age. In an era where information spreads instantly, and conspiracy theories thrive, a single anonymous post can create a ghost story that feels real enough to haunt thousands of people.
The 2006 volleyball incident never happened, but the legend of its existence has become its own kind of truth. A collective nightmare born from the darkest corners of internet culture, where fact and fiction blur until they become indistinguishable. Before we go any further, I just want to ask you for a small favor.
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It feels impossible, but hey, it's free to dream, right? Also, there's a hidden word somewhere in this video for you. Let's see if you can find it. Now, back to the video. In the quiet town of Waterford, Pennsylvania, just south of Erie, stands a building that has become synonymous with the unexplainable. The Judson House, constructed in 1810 and expanded in 1820, serves as a museum of carefully preserved history.
But according to countless witnesses, investigators, and even the museum's own staff, it preserves something far more unsettling than artifacts and antiques. The mansion was built by Amos Judson, a skilled cabinet maker and trader from Connecticut, who became one of Waterford's most prominent citizens.
His woodworking expertise shows in every detail of the Greek Revival structure, from the flush siding to the fluted pylisters. Judson ran a successful trading store attached to the house and later purchased the adjacent Eagle Hotel, the town newspaper, and built a small empire before his death in the mid 1870s.
After decades of disrepair, the property was preserved and sold to the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission in 1945, eventually opening as a museum. What makes the Judson House unique among historical sites, is what lies beneath it. The property sits directly on the grounds of three former forts, including Fort Labou, where French and British soldiers fought, died, and were buried during the colonial era.
Archaeological excavations have uncovered large chunks of wood charcoal relating directly to the fiery demise of these military outposts. The ground beneath the museum is essentially a forgotten burial site. And according to local paranormal investigators, that history has never truly settled. Museum volunteers began noticing something strange years ago.
Visitors would compliment them on the period reenactors walking through the building, praising the historical society for creating such an immersive experience. The problem was simple and chilling. There were no reenactors scheduled. Staff members would search the premises after these reports, finding the building completely empty, except for themselves.
The comments became so frequent that volunteers simply learned to brush them off. Even as the descriptions of soldiers in period military uniforms became more detailed and consistent. Heidi Longreet of the Waterford Historical Society has worked at the museum for years and knows its reputation well.
She told local news that ghost hunters from across the tri-state area consistently report encountering an angry male presence in what they now call the fort room. The room sits directly above the old fort burial grounds, and the energy there is palpable even to skeptics. During one investigation, a paranormal team experienced something that left even hardened skeptics shaken.
Using thermal cameras and structured light sensor technology, they visually mapped and recorded the thermal outline of a human figure seated in an empty chair. The figure appeared on their equipment, but was invisible to the naked eye. The experience was described as unforgettable and unmatched.
Bill Cook, an investigator with the Pennsylvania Society of Paranormal Research, spent extensive time in the Judson House alongside fellow investigator Kate Mcnite. Using electronic voice phenomenon equipment, they captured disembodied sounds and voices responding directly to their questions.
In one particularly unsettling moment captured on video, Cook asked a spirit to take it off and his digital recorder immediately registered a response in the fort room. The activity isn't limited to one area. Throughout the building, investigators have documented K2 meter spikes indicating electromagnetic field fluctuations, unexplained temperature drops, and equipment activating without human contact.
In footage from multiple investigations, EMF detectors light up in sequence, climbing from green to orange to red as if something unseen is deliberately manipulating the devices to communicate. Sam. [Music] One investigator captured what appeared to be direct communication when their equipment displayed the name Sam just moments after hearing the name called out in an empty room.
The timing was too precise to dismiss, and the footage shows genuine shock on the faces of everyone present. The spiritual activity seems to involve several distinct entities. Investigators report encountering long- lost soldiers, shadowy figures that move through rooms, and even playful children.
The children's presence is particularly poignant given the building's history. Amos Judson's family lived in the house for generations. And like many families of that era, they experienced the tragedy of child mortality. Dating back to Amos Judson's lifetime, close friends and family claimed to experience odd sensations throughout the mansion.
At the time, no one wanted to speak publicly about these experiences. Only after Amos had passed did these individuals feel safe enough to share what they had witnessed. Heidi Longre's perspective on the haunting is perhaps the most telling. Despite the documented paranormal activity, she describes the presence as comforting rather than threatening.
Sometimes when you're in here, it feels like you're not alone, she explained to reporters. But it's not scary or demonic. It actually feels comforting sometimes because you feel like you're not alone. That sense of presence permeates every corner of the building.
In the original kitchen with its period stove, in the rooms displaying clothing and shoes from centuries past in the narrow hallways and steep staircases, visitors report the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Footsteps echo when no one is walking. Doors open and close. Objects move from where they were carefully placed. Some researchers believe the paranormal activity intensified after an old cemetery was desecrated long ago, possibly creating what locals describe as a curse or a lifted veil between worlds in this area. Whether curse or simply unfinished business, something keeps these spirits tethered to the
Judson House. The building's history reads like a timeline of American expansion. Built on Native American land, fought over by French and British forces, witnessed to the birth of a nation and the growth of a frontier town, the Judson House contains layers of human experience soaked into its very foundation.
Perhaps what investigators are documenting isn't haunting in the traditional sense, but rather an echo of all that history refusing to be forgotten. Paranormal investigation teams continue to request access to the property, and the Fort Labou Historical Society has learned to accommodate the steady stream of researchers armed with thermal cameras, EMF detectors, spirit boxes, and audio recorders.
Each investigation yields new evidence, new voices captured on digital recordings, new figures appearing in photographs where no living person stood. The Judson House operates as a museum during regular hours. Open to the public from May 1st through October 31st each year. Visitors can tour the carefully preserved rooms, examine the artifacts, and learn about Amos Judson's remarkable life. But they might experience something more than a history lesson.
They might catch a glimpse of a soldier standing in the fortroom, hear footsteps on the stairs when they're alone, or feel that unmistakable sensation of being watched by eyes they cannot see. In Waterford, Pennsylvania, the past isn't just preserved behind glass cases and museum displays.
According to everyone who has spent time in the Judson House after dark, the past is still very much alive, still walking the halls, still unwilling or unable to move on. The question isn't whether the building is haunted. The evidence has long since answered that. The real question is why these spirits remain and what they're trying so desperately to communicate to the living who dare to listen.
On January 20th, 2016, firefighters responding to a house fire on Vaness Avenue in central Fresno, California, made a horrific discovery behind heavily secured gates and barricaded doors. They found 51-year-old John Lang unconscious in his kitchen. His body bore multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen.
The house was deliberately set ablaze. He was pronounced dead at the hospital shortly after. 4 days earlier, Lang had posted a chilling message on Facebook. If anything happens to me in the next day or two, it will be the result of Fresno PD. My neighbor and an employee at my job, Pless Brakes and Tires on Blackstone.
The next day, January 16th, he shared surveillance footage of a suspicious van parked outside his home. If I turn up missing or dead tomorrow, remember this van," he wrote. "I think I saw a couple of guys sneak out the side door and into the building when it was parked in the carport this afternoon.
" Hours later, another post appeared on his Facebook page asking people to protect themselves if they saw people with guns. 3 days after that final warning, John Lang was dead. The Fresno County Sheriff Coroner's office would eventually rule his death a suicide, stating the stab wounds were self-inflicted and the actual cause of death was smoke inhalation from the fire.
The ruling satisfied almost no one who knew Lang's story. John Lang was not a criminal. He had no arrest record. He was a Marine Corps veteran, a small business owner, and a concerned citizen who became increasingly vocal about what he believed was systemic corruption within the Fresno Police Department.
His activism began simply enough with comments posted on the Fresno Bay newspaper website regarding local government and law enforcement activities. But what he discovered would consume the final years of his life and possibly lead to his death. In early 2015, Lang uncovered what he described as a license plate scanning scam being conducted by Fresno police officers.
He claimed that officers would scan license plates of vehicles parked in retail store parking lots like SaveMart, Vans, and Home Depot. specifically targeting lowerincome neighborhoods. After collecting hits of violations, officers would then pull these unsuspecting drivers over a few blocks away in marked police vehicles, claiming they had simply come across their vehicle through routine driving patrols. Long himself had been a victim of this practice.
The stress of dealing with the legal consequences from these manufactured traffic stops contributed to the destruction of his marriage. When he attempted to expose this scheme by posting anonymously on the Fresno B website, his information was allegedly leaked to law enforcement.
According to later reports, a Fresno B reporter named Judy Murray passed his IP address and personal information to Sergeant Jared L. McCormack of the Fresno County Sheriff's Office. What followed was a 7-year campaign of harassment that Lang meticulously documented through surveillance cameras, diary entries, and social media posts.
He installed a comprehensive security system around his entire property, gating it completely and recording everything that happened outside his home. The footage he captured and uploaded to his YouTube channel, Lang Marine, is deeply unsettling. The videos show marked Fresno Police Department vehicles repeatedly parking outside his residence for extended periods.
Unmarked vans with government plates cruise slowly past his house. White service vans appear in his neighborhood with suspicious frequency. In one particularly disturbing video, [Music] Lang captured what appeared to be a van equipped with thermal imaging equipment pulling up outside his home, seemingly checking to see if he was inside.
Lang believed the police were not just surveilling him, but actively attempting to frame him for crimes. In his writings, he claimed that officers had illegally entered his home on multiple occasions, breaking in while he was away to plant evidence and copy his computer hard drives. He wrote about finding his door busted, his personal computer and printer damaged or broken.
The alleged frame up attempts escalated to accusations of child pornography possession, a charge Lang veheimmently denied and believed was part of a coordinated effort to destroy his credibility and put him in prison. In his diary entries, he wrote extensively about what he perceived as a conspiracy involving not just police, but also recruited civilians willing to perjure themselves in exchange for reduced sentences on their own criminal cases.
He named specific individuals he believed were part of this plot, including people with criminal records who had made his acquaintance seemingly by design. On March 25th, 2015, Lang filed a complaint with the Fresno Police Department's Internal Affairs Bureau.
2 days later, he received a voicemail from Sergeant Sha Biggs of the Internal Affairs Department stating he had questions for Lang. Rather than alleviating the harassment, Lang claimed the internal affairs complaint only intensified the intimidation tactics being used against him. In his writings, Lang connected his targeting to a larger pattern within Fresno law enforcement.
He referenced allegations of a sex scandal involving Fresno Police Chief Jerry Dyier and a 16-year-old girl, claiming that anyone who publicly discussed or accused Dyer regarding this alleged scandal found themselves in legal trouble within a few years.
Anyone who has ever talked publicly about, accused, or discussed Jerry Dyier's supposed sex scandal with that 16-year-old girl has found themselves in some type of legal peril within a few short years, Lang wrote. And with this letter, I have for certain signed my death warrant with Fresno Le. Langs fears were not entirely unfounded when viewed in the context of Fresno's controversial law enforcement history.
In 2014, Fresno Police Chief Jerry Dyier traveled to Israel to study their technology for monitoring the Palestinian population. By 2016, Fresno became the first US city to implement software that monitored all citizens continuously and assigned them threat rankings.
The program called Beware profiled local activists and categorized them in the same threat category as violent criminals. In 2015, it came to light that Fresno police had officially labeled the Black Lives Matter protest movement as a threat. Chief Dyer stated that all people who participated in protests against the police would be documented and their information stored in a database, warning they could be arrested in the future if they participated in protests against the Fresno Police Department. These revelations drew criticism from civil rights organizations and even prompted
the United Nations to compare such tactics to those used by totalitarian regimes. The Ko Institute, a policy research think tank, identified Fresno as ranking at the top among all American cities for police misconduct in 2010. That same year, another independent study found Fresno was the worst California city for lack of transparency.
The Wall Street Journal questioned whether Fresno County law enforcement had its priorities mixed up between revenue generation and actually protecting the public. As January 2016 progressed, Lang's Facebook posts became increasingly desperate and paranoid. Though whether this paranoia was justified remains hotly debated.
On January 13th, he shared a conversation explaining why he believed Fresno police were stalking him, reiterating his discovery of the license plate scanning scam. He wrote, "I simply voiced my opinion regarding local government and politics on local blogs. I also discovered local law enforcement had been running a license plate scanning scam.
By January 15th, just 5 days before his death, Lang was posting urgent warnings. He believed corrupt Fresno police were going to try to kill him that weekend. Possibly that very night, he reached out to fellow activists asking them to come stay with him for protection. No one came. When firefighters found him on January 20th, he was alone in his barricaded home, his body bearing stab wounds the coroner would later determine were self-inflicted.
His house engulfed in flames, officials initially described as suspicious. The Fresno County Sheriff Coroner's office released their final report on May 25th, 2016. The official cause of death was inhalation of smoke and soot due to the fire with multiple stab wounds listed as a contributing factor.
The wounds were determined to be self-inflicted. According to the autopsy report, Lang had high levels of carbon monoxide in his system along with three superficial stab wounds to the chest area. Notably, the report stated there were no stab wounds to the back. Contrary to what had been initially reported by some media outlets, the suicide ruling did little to quiet the controversy surrounding Lang's death.
Local activists and independent media outlets questioned how someone could stab themselves multiple times and then set their own house on fire. The international activist group Anonymous took notice, publicly targeting Fresno City representatives and threatening to take down the city's website, declaring that John Lang will not be forgotten.
Dylan Donnelly of Fresno People's Media documented Lang's final warnings and noted he had been a frequent poster in activist communities and was well known to many in Fresno's social justice circles. In his reporting, Donnelly included extensive diary entries from Lang that painted a picture of a man who had been under sustained psychological pressure for years.
In one particularly poignant diary entry, Lang wrote, "I deeply regret some of the things I said, but I never insulted anyone. Everything I stated was true, even though it may have been embarrassing for some. Other commenters were rude and directed personal attacks toward the chief and sheriff.
I admonished those posters and defended the chief and sheriff on many occasions. Doesn't this count for anything? The tragedy of John Lang's story is that it remains unresolved in the minds of those who followed his activism. Was he a whistleblower murdered for exposing corruption? His death covered up by the very forces he had been investigating.
Or was he a man who succumbed to paranoia and mental illness? His fears amplified by years of perceived persecution until he took his own life in a final desperate act. The surveillance footage he captured is real. The vans, the police cars, the suspicious vehicles outside his home all appear in videos that can still be viewed online.
Whether they represent coordinated harassment or routine police presence in a neighborhood near the Fresno Police Officers Association building, which was located just two blocks from Lang's home, depends entirely on perspective. What remains undeniable is that John Lang predicted his own death with eerie accuracy, and that the circumstances of that death, regardless of the official ruling, were deeply disturbing.
A man barricaded inside his own home, stabbed multiple times. His house intentionally set on fire, dying alone despite having warned the world that this exact scenario might unfold. His YouTube channel, Lang Marine, still exists as a digital monument to his final years. The 17 videos he posted show a man living in genuine fear, documenting what he believed was systematic harassment by law enforcement. Whether that fear was justified or delusional, the terror in those videos is palpable and real.
The Fresno Police Department never reopened the investigation. No one was ever charged in connection with Lang's death. The license plate scanning allegations were never officially investigated or substantiated. The case was closed, ruled a suicide, and filed away. But John Lang's story refuses to die. It circulates through activist networks, true crime communities, and conspiracy forums as a cautionary tale about what happens when ordinary citizens attempt to expose police corruption. It serves as either evidence of a massive cover up
or as a tragic example of how paranoia and mental illness can destroy a life. The truth, like Lang himself, remains buried somewhere between official narrative and conspiracy theory. In that shadowy space where corruption and paranoia become indistinguishable from one another. Slamming door in Coral Gables, Florida, just minutes from downtown Miami.
The Builtmore Hotel rises 15 stories into the southern sky. Its distinctive tower modeled after the Geralda in Seville, Spain, once held the title of Florida's tallest building when it opened in January 1926. For nearly a century, this Mediterranean revival masterpiece has hosted presidents, celebrities, and the extraordinarily wealthy.
But according to countless guests, staff members, and paranormal investigators, the living are not the only ones who refuse to check out. The hotel was the brainchild of two ambitious men. George Merik, founder of Coral Gables, envisioned a city of architectural perfection. John Mcinty Bowman, a New York hotel magnate, saw opportunity in Florida's roaring 20s land boom.
Together, they created what quickly became the crown jewel of South Florida luxury. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor vacationed there. Judy Garland, Bing Crosby, and Ginger Rogers graced its ballrooms. Al Capone made it one of his favorite retreats. By the late 1920s, the Builtmore wasn't just a hotel. It was the place to see and be seen.
But wealth and glamour have always attracted darker elements. During Prohibition, the Builtmore's 13th floor became something else entirely. The entire floor was leased under a name that may not have been real, Carl Gaylord, and transformed into an illegal speak easy and casino.
Six rooms were converted into gambling dens where fashionably dressed guests would arrive via the hotel's original elevator. Drinks flowing and dice rolling through the humid Florida nights. Hotel workers noticed the procession of well-dressed patrons making their way to and from that floor. But in the era of prohibition, asking too many questions could be dangerous.
Thomas Walsh was a New York mobster who went by the nickname FOD. He had worked as a bodyguard for Arnold Rothstein, the legendary gambler and crime boss known as the Brain, who mentored an entire generation of Prohibition era gangsters. When Rothstein was murdered in 1928, Walsh was among those brought in for questioning alongside Lucky Luciano and Jack Legs Diamond.
He was released, claiming he had quit working for Rothstein 2 weeks before the murder because Rothstein was too cheap. By early 1929, Fy Walsh had relocated to Florida and was running the casino operation on the Builtmore's 13th floor alongside fellow gangsters Edward Wilson and Arthur Clark. The suite they operated from was lavish even by Builmore standards with high ceilings, a grand fireplace, and enough space to accommodate the steady stream of high rollers looking to gamble away their fortunes. On the night of March 7th,
1929, as a trio of musicians played Alexander's ragtime band, Walsh and Wilson got into an argument. The dispute was most likely over money, though accounts vary. Wilson walked away from the argument, and Walsh sat down on a sofa with his back to his partner. Without warning, Wilson stood up, drew a 38 caliber revolver, and fired three shots. Two bullets struck Walsh.
The third hit Arthur Clark, who had rushed forward, trying to intervene. When police arrived at 12:45 in the morning, they found the floor completely deserted, except for Walsh's body and Clark lying wounded on the floor, groaning. The door to the suite stood open. The green bays of the card tables was splattered with blood.
Guests and staff had fled in terror the moment the gunshots rang out. A bullet hole was left in the massive fireplace where Walsh died. And according to those who have stayed in what is now called the Everglades suite or sometimes the Alapone suite, that bullet hole can still be seen today, more than 90 years later.
Clark survived his wounds but refused to speak to police. When asked about Walsh, he would only say, "I don't care to talk." A warrant was issued for Edward Wilson's arrest. But nothing came of it. Word circulated that Wilson had fled to Cuba, along with rumors that the actual shooter might have been a hitman known as Potato's Joe Potato. Some even suggested Al Capone's involvement.
The day after the murder, a lawyer named Fred Pine burst into the county jail, requesting the names of everyone in custody, claiming he was there on a blanket assignment from an anonymous client to represent anyone arrested in connection with Walsh's death.
Walsh's body was eventually sent back to New York, where hundreds of mourners, including a large ensemble of criminal types and plenty of law enforcement officers, attended his elaborate funeral on March 12th, 1929. The local press noted that Walsh had lived by the gun and died by it. Arthur Clark, after viewing the corpse at the funeral home, groaned. He was shot down like a dog.
He never had a chance. Back at the Builtmore, something strange began happening almost immediately. Staff members reported unusual activity on the 13th floor. Lights would flicker on and off without anyone touching the switches.
The distinct scent of ozone would sometimes follow these electrical disturbances, prompting maintenance calls that resulted in no problems being found. Doors opened and closed on their own. Some female guests reported smelling cigar smoke in unoccupied sections of the hotel, the kind of expensive cigars Walsh was known to favor. The elevator became a source of particular unease.
Guests would press the button for their floor, only to have the elevator inexplicably stop on the 13th floor instead. The doors would open and remain open as if waiting for someone to board. This was especially strange because the 13th floor suite requires a special key card for access. The elevator should not stop there at all unless specifically summoned by someone with authorization.
One of the most frequently reported incidents involves a married couple staying on the fourth floor. The husband pressed the elevator button and they both stepped inside. The wife intended to get off on the fourth floor, but when the doors opened, they had been taken to the 13th floor instead. Confused, the woman stepped out to investigate.
The elevator doors suddenly slammed shut behind her, and the elevator shot downward with her husband still inside. He frantically sought help from staff, and when they returned to the 13th floor, they found the woman terrified. She told them she had heard someone walking around in the shadows, talking and laughing. She smelled cigar smoke.
The bellhop who retrieved her explained the history of Fy Walsh's murder and the casino. The couple spent the rest of their vacation exploring local malls rather than the hotel's interior. During the 1970s, when the building sat vacant and decaying, a seance was conducted on the 13th floor. Contact with Walsh was allegedly established through one of the mediums.
The entity claiming to be FOD explained why and how he died, providing details of the murder scene that had never been released to the press. When retired police chief William Garren Kimbro heard the tapes from the seance, he was shocked by the accuracy. The activity intensified during the hotel's major renovation in the 1980s.
Workers reported that Walsh seemed particularly active during this period, constantly moving their tools and equipment. Paranormal investigator Richard Winer had predicted Walsh would be especially responsive during the restoration, and construction crews confirmed his assessment. They would place tools in one location only to find them moved to another.
Lights turned on in areas where the electrical work hadn't yet been completed. The sound of footsteps echoed through empty corridors. When the Builtmore reopened in 1987 after a $55 million restoration, the ghost stories became part of the hotel's identity.
George Warren, who served as a midnight security guard in the old country club section for 5 years, meticulously documented unexplainable events. Alarms would sound with no one present. His video monitors repeatedly showed fresh wheelchair marks appearing on carpets that were clean when he physically checked them moments later. Waitresses working in the hotel's restaurants have experienced doors to the dining areas opening for them when their hands are full of plates and dishes as if an invisible gentleman is holding the door open. Staff attribute this courtesy to FO who is known for his charm with women
when alive. An unseen finger has been reported writing the word buo on fogged bathroom mirrors in the suite. During authorized paranormal investigations, EVP recordings have captured the sound of heavy breathing and loud size following investigators around the 13th floor. But Walsh is not the only spirit haunting the Builtmore.
During World War II, the hotel was converted into the Army Air Force's regional hospital. The once glamorous halls echoed with the sounds of medical equipment and the groans of wounded soldiers. Many veterans died within the building during these years.
Medical students from the University of Miami trained there and at one point cadaavvers were stored in the basement for the medical school. Paranormal investigators believe this concentration of death and suffering created conditions for multiple hauntings. Guests and staff report seeing soldiers in period military uniforms walking the hallways.
Visitors have complimented the historical society on their reenactors only to be told there are no reenactors scheduled. Staff members search the premises after these sightings and find the building empty except for themselves. The descriptions of these soldiers are detailed and consistent down to the specific era of their uniforms. A young mother and her three-year-old son also haunt the property.
According to hotel history, the child climbed up on the balcony railing of their high-rise tower suite. The mother rushed to save him, but fell to her death in the attempt. Her spirit is believed to wander the grounds in a sheer black or gray 1940s style dress, still searching for her son, uncertain whether he survived.
Another tragic spirit involves a woman caught in bed with her lover by her husband. The enraged husband killed them both. Marital infidelity as a motive for murder was disturbingly common during the hotel's early decades, and the psychic imprint of such violent emotion apparently lingers. In February 2019, YouTube investigators Sam Goldbach and Colobby Brock brought their paranormal investigation series to the Builtmore, accompanied by friends Corey Sharer and Jake Weber. They spent the night in the presidential suite, which spans the 10th and 11th floors. These are considered
the most actively haunted floors after the 13th. The Black Dalia, Elizabeth Short, was last seen at the Builmore's downtown Los Angeles location before her murder in 1947, and her ghost has been reported on these floors at multiple Builtmore properties.
Throughout their investigation, Sam and Colby experienced phenomena they had never encountered before. They heard loud thuds and unexplained noises. At one point, they heard what sounded like a piano playing. When they rushed upstairs, they found the piano cover open, though it had been closed earlier. During a seance conducted in the suite, they asked for a sign from any entities present.
According to their footage, all the candles in the room suddenly blew out simultaneously with a strong wind despite no windows being open and no one else being in the room. The most disturbing moment of their investigation involved Jake Weber. During the seance, something seemed to change in Jake's demeanor.
Viewers analyzing the footage noted that just before the candles extinguished, Jake lifted his head in an unnatural way. Some claimed his eyes appeared to glow red in certain frames. Both Corey and Jake later confirmed they noticed something strange about Jake's eyes during that moment.
The incident was so unsettling that it became one of the most discussed moments in Sam and Col's paranormal investigation career. Other paranormal investigation teams have documented similar experiences. The Paranormal Files, another YouTube channel, spent a night at the Builtmore and captured what they described as poltergeist activity on camera. Doors slammed without explanation.
EMF detectors spiked with no identifiable electromagnetic source. Thermal cameras registered temperature anomalies that suggested the presence of something that wasn't there moments before. The 13th floor suite, now a luxury accommodation that can be rented for approximately $1,500 per night, continues to be the epicenter of paranormal reports.
Guests who stay there do so knowing the history. Some hope for an encounter. Others are simply drawn by the suite's undeniable beauty. The two-story layout with its grand piano, massive fireplace with Walsh's bullet hole still visible, dining room table, and sweeping views of Coral Gables.
Linda Spitzer, who told ghost stories in the Builtmore's lobby every Thursday night starting in 1994, found that her best material came from the hotel guests themselves. People would approach her after her presentations with their own experiences. They had seen figures that shouldn't be there. They had heard voices in empty rooms.
They had felt presence watching them from darkened doorways. The accumulation of these firsthand accounts created a body of evidence that even skeptics found difficult to dismiss entirely. Today, the Builtmore operates as a national historic landmark and luxury resort. It hosts weddings, golf tournaments, and corporate events. The lobby is bright and welcoming.
The pool, once the largest in the world, sparkles in the Florida sun. Tour guides mentioned the ghost stories with a knowing smile, careful not to frighten away potential guests, but acknowledging what countless people have experienced within these walls. Security footage from modern cameras occasionally captures anomalies that staff cannot explain.
Motion sensors trigger an empty hallways, the original elevator still sometimes stops on the 13th floor without being summoned. Its doors opening to reveal nothing but an empty corridor and the faint scent of expensive cigar smoke. F Walsh loved the Builtmore.
In life, he ran his empire from the 13th floor suite, hosting wild parties and risky gambling sessions for Miami's elite and underworld figures alike. He died violently in that same suite, shot in the back by a partner he trusted. According to everyone from hotel staff to paranormal investigators to everyday guests, FO never left.
He remains on the 13th floor playing pranks, opening doors for pretty waitresses, inviting guests to visit his suite via mysteriously malfunctioning elevators, and generally making his presence known to anyone willing to pay attention. Whether you believe in ghosts or not, something undeniably happens at the Builtmore Hotel. Doors slam without wind.
Elevators stop on floors they shouldn't access. Lights flicker without electrical explanation. Voices echo in empty spaces. And on the 13th floor of that magnificent Spanish inspired tower, the spirit of a murdered gangster apparently refuses to accept that his time at Florida's most glamorous hotel has ended. At 4:14 in the morning on December 8th, 2000, a security camera outside a Bank of Ireland ATM on Haddington Road captured 22-year-old Trevor Dilly walking home from his office Christmas party. He carried a promotional golf umbrella to shield himself from the heavy rain. He wore a yellow and brown
shirt and beige cord trousers. He was heading toward his apartment on Serpentine Avenue in Ballsbridge just a short walk away. That grainy footage would become the last confirmed sighting of Trevor. He has never been seen or heard from again.
Trevor was the youngest of four children born to Michael and Anne Dei in Nas County Kildair. Standing 6'3 with reddish blonde hair and green eyes. He had a thin build and a distinctive walk, moving with his arms straight down at his sides. He wasn't particularly academic or athletic, but he had an affinity for math and was described by everyone who knew him as easygoing and friendly.
After dropping out of business school during his second year at Waterford Institute of Technology, Trevor found work in the IT department at Bank of Ireland Asset Management on Leon Street in Dublin. His manager later described him as a good guy and a hard worker. The night of December 7th began innocently enough.
Trevor attended his office Christmas party at the Hilton Hotel on Charlemont Place before heading to Buck Whley's nightclub with colleagues. He left the club around 3:25 in the morning. A taxi strike and the relentless rain meant he had to walk.
Instead of heading directly home, Trevor decided to stop at his office to pick up an umbrella and handle some tasks for his shift the next day. At approximately 3:35 a.m., surveillance cameras at the rear entrance of the Bank of Ireland Asset Management Building captured something deeply unsettling. Trevor is seen speaking with an unknown man dressed entirely in black.
The figure stands near the gate, partially obscured by shadows. The conversation appears brief. Trevor then enters the building through the back gate while the man in black waits outside. Inside the office, Trevor encountered his coworker Carl Pender. The two spoke briefly before Trevor grabbed the promo
tional umbrella and left. At 4:06 a.m., Trevor left a voicemail for his friend Glenn Cullen, saying he was on his way home and would talk to him later. His voice sounded normal. There was no indication of distress. 8 minutes later, the Bank of Ireland ATM camera captured Trevor walking past on Haddington Road, umbrella in hand. Approximately 31 seconds after Trevor passes, the same camera captures another figure walking in the same direction.
The person is dressed in dark clothing and appears to be following Trevor at a distance. That footage, grainy and distorted by the limitations of VHS technology from 2000, would haunt investigators and Trevor's family for more than two decades. The man in black became the focus of intense speculation.
Was he following Trevor? Was he the same person who had spoken to Trevor outside the office? What happened in those final moments after Trevor walked out of frame? Trevor's disappearance wasn't immediately noticed. His colleagues assumed he was absent from work on Friday because he was tired after the party. His flatmates were away for the weekend.
It wasn't until Monday, December 11th, when Trevor failed to show up for work that a colleague realized no one had seen him. Human resources was notified. His family was contacted. The horrifying truth set in. Trevor Deserty had vanished. The Guardi Ireland's National Police Force launched an investigation. They quickly obtained the CCTV footage showing Trevor's final movements.
The video of the man in black became central to the case. In 2016, after years of the case sitting cold, the Guardi reopened the investigation using enhanced digital technology. They cleaned up the grainy footage. In April 2017, they announced they believed the man following Trevor on Haddington Road was the same person who had spoken to him outside his office.
A reward of €100,000 was offered for information. In August 2017, an anonymous tipster came forward with a chilling account. The informant claimed Trevor had been murdered by a member of a local gang involved in drugs and prostitution.
According to this source, the man following Trevor wanted access to the Bank of Ireland building and believed Trevor could get him inside. When Trevor couldn't or wouldn't help, the man allegedly shot him. The tipster claimed Trevor's body was buried in Chapelad, a secluded 3acre wooded area roughly 8 km from where he was last seen. Detective Inspector Paul Costello called it the most significant search operation since Trevor's disappearance.
As many as 20 Guardio officers and sniffer dogs spent weeks excavating the Chapelad site. They found a gun and drugs, but investigators determined these were unrelated to Trevor's case, describing the location as a stash area for criminals. No human remains were discovered. The search was called off in September 2017.
Throughout the investigation, Trevor's family maintained hope while accepting the likely reality of his death. Michael Dey, Trevor's father, took 6 months off work following his son's disappearance. His office overlooked the canal near where Trevor was last seen. It couldn't have been worse from that point of view.
He told reporters, "You were reminded every day and every hour when you went out. Anne Dei and Trevor's siblings traveled to Alaska where Trevor had visited a girl he'd met just weeks before his disappearance, hoping the trip might be connected. It wasn't. The girl explained she had tried to discourage Trevor from visiting because she was too busy, but he came anyway and enjoyed exploring Alaska.
In December 2023, nearly 23 years after Trevor vanished, Mark De announced a breakthrough that was simultaneously hopeful and devastating. Advances in CCTV enhancement technology allowed experts to finally identify the man in black walking behind Trevor on Haddington Road. The Garta contacted this person and comprehensively ruled him out of their investigation.
More significantly, they determined this man was not the same person Trevor had spoken to outside his office. That individual remains unidentified to this day. Mark Dey described the revelation as bittersweet. "You think you're going someplace," he told reporters.
And then, as I said to one guard, God, that puts us nearly straight back to square one straight away. The family still has no theory about what happened to Trevor. We're totally open-minded, Mark explained. The truth is, as dafted as it might sound, he's as likely to walk in the door in the morning as he is be found dead. We've no information whatsoever. The case is complicated by several factors.
The area where Trevor disappeared was known for gang activity and prostitution. In 2000, US President Bill Clinton visited Ireland just 2 days after Trevor went missing and his security team conducted sweeps of the area, emptying dumpsters and trash cans. Some believe critical evidence may have been inadvertently destroyed.
Additionally, in 2000, CCTV footage was recorded on VHS tapes that were frequently recorded over. There may have been additional footage of Trevor and his apparent stalker that was lost forever. Trevor's phone continued to ring for several days after his disappearance when family members called.
An expert confirmed this would not have been possible if the phone had been underwater, effectively ruling out the theory that Trevor had fallen into the nearby canal and drowned. Despite this, Guard Sub Aqua team searched the River Daughter and the Grand Canal. Draining the canal for a more thorough search was deemed impossible because it would pose risks to surrounding buildings.
In 2019, the Irish Prison Service Crimes Stoppers and the Garta began displaying posters in prisons as part of the # Where is Trevor campaign. The family hoped someone with knowledge might come forward in exchange for leniency on their own charges. So far, this approach has yielded no results.
On National Missing Persons Day in December 2023, Mark De stood at Croak Park alongside families of other missing persons. He urged the public to examine the CCTV images still available online. There is a character lurking in the background up against the wall and gate. He said he is the only individual we haven't yet identified all this time later. It is one thing we would definitely like to know.
The footage remains as haunting today as it was 24 years ago. Trevor walking alone in the rain at 4 in the morning, umbrella in hand, just trying to get home. The shadowy figure dressed in black, standing against the gate, speaking with him about something unknown. The second figure follows 31 seconds behind on Haddington Road.
Then nothing, nobody, no witnesses, no answers, just a family that has spent nearly a quarter century wondering what happened in those final moments after their son, brother, and friend walked out of frame and into oblivion. Trevor's case remains open and active. His family continues to fight for answers, refusing to let his name fade into obscurity.
Mikuel Dilly emphasized that their parents deserve closure. The disappearance of Trevor Dilly stands as one of Ireland's most enduring mysteries. A case where modern surveillance technology captured the final moments of a young man's life, but cannot tell us what happened next or why a 22-year-old IT worker on his way home from a Christmas party simply vanished from the streets of Dublin and was never seen again.
At 2:32 in the morning on July 30th, 2015, surveillance cameras inside a Valero gas station at 3601 North Dixie Highway in Pompo Beach, Florida, captured 25-year-old Steven McCrell stumbling slightly as he browsed the snack aisle. He pointed at something, his hand in his pocket, appearing intoxicated but functional. Outside, those same cameras recorded something far more disturbing.
Mccrell got into a heated argument with occupants of a silver sedan. His mother, Astred, would later describe what happened next. There, he had a conversation with some people in a car, she told reporters. And those people, they left, and my son threw a can toward the car. The silver sedan left the gas station.
Steven got into his white 2013 Ford Fusion with Florida license plate WJ70L and drove away. Additional surveillance footage captured what police and his family believe is the critical moment. The silver sedan followed Steven's car as he pulled out of the gas station. That was the last time anyone saw Steven McCrell alive. For 10 years, his family would search desperately for answers.
On October 2nd, 2025, those answers finally came from the dark waters of a Boca Raton pond. Steven was a professional poker dealer at Gfream Park in Hollandale Beach. He lived with his parents, Donald and Astred McCrell in Fort Lauderdale. He had a one-year-old daughter named Skyler, with his girlfriend, Alicia Carr. By all accounts, Steven was in good spirits the night he vanished.
He had spent the evening of July 29th at Ly's Tavern in downtown Fort Lauderdale with one of his brothers and friends. Around 1:30 in the morning, Steven and his friends left the bar, but decided the night wasn't over yet. They agreed to meet up in the parking lot of a nearby Walgreens on Broward Boulevard and 7th Avenue to figure out their next move.
Each went to retrieve their respective cars. Steven never arrived at that Walgreens. His friends waited, confused at first, then concerned. When they couldn't reach him, they assumed he had changed his mind and gone home. But Steven didn't come home either. His parents weren't immediately worried when they didn't hear from him on Thursday.
When Friday came and Steven failed to show up for work, they knew something was terribly wrong. Steven was reliable. He didn't miss work. He didn't disappear without explanation. Fort Lauderdale police launched an investigation. They traced Steven's credit card activity and discovered he had made a purchase at the Valero station approximately an hour after leaving Ly's Tavern. When they obtained the surveillance footage, they saw Steven inside the store buying snacks.
They also saw the confrontation outside. Police released a 30-second clip of the footage showing Steven browsing the gas station's offerings. His brother Kevin confirmed the identification. No doubt that's him, he told reporters. But who was in that silver sedan? What was the argument about? Why did they follow Steven after he left? These questions would haunt the investigation for a decade.
Police appealed to the public for help identifying the occupants of that vehicle. They described it as crucial to understanding what happened to Steven. Surveillance footage captured what appeared to be a passenger in the silver car, but the image quality wasn't clear enough for a definitive identification.
Detective Casey Leaning of the Fort Lauderdale Police Department described the extensive search efforts undertaken in the immediate aftermath of Steven's disappearance. "We searched almost 200 bodies of water in and around the Pompo Beach area looking for any sign of Mccrell or his vehicle." She stated, "Sonar teams swept through lakes, canals, and retention ponds. They found nothing.
Steven's phone had been turned off since the night he vanished. There were no pings, no activity, no digital trail to follow." Astred McCrell refused to give up hope. She drove around Fort Lauderdale with missing person posters taped to her car, hoping someone would recognize her son and provide information. "I dream sometimes that he's coming home," she told CBS Miami in 2019. "He's knocking on the door.
I'm going to open the door and he's there. I just hope those dreams will come true. I'm still looking for him." The last words she spoke to Steven were on the evening of July 29th when he left for work at the poker room. I gave him a hug and told him, "I love you. Have a good night at work." "That was our last words," she recalled.
Steven's girlfriend, Alicia Carr, the mother of his young daughter, struggled with endless scenarios about what might have happened. "Maybe they ran him off the road and he went into a lake," she speculated to reporters. "I'm so uncertain because there's so many different scenarios I've thought about." Her speculation would prove eerily accurate.
By March 2019, Fort Lauderdale police admitted they had exhausted all leads. The case went cold. Steven's daughter Skyler grew up without her father. She was 1-year-old when he disappeared. By 2025, she was 11. Steven also had two older brothers who held on to hope that somehow someday they would learn the truth.
On July 30th, 2025, exactly 10 years after Steven vanished, Fort Lauderdale police issued another public appeal. They urged anyone with information to come forward. Detective work continued behind the scenes, but publicly the case seemed destined to remain one of South Florida's most frustrating unsolved disappearances.
Then Sunshine State Sonar entered the picture. This private dive team specializes in solving cold cases involving missing persons and submerged vehicles. Using advanced sonar technology, they scan bodies of water that may have been previously searched with older, less sophisticated equipment.
Team member Mike Sullivan had been working on Steven's case for three years. On October 2nd, 2025, his persistence paid off. In a lake near the 900 block of Peninsula Corporate Circle in Boca Raton, just off Interstate 95, Sullivan's sonar equipment detected something. "It's over 3 years looking for Steven McCrell. It's finally over. We found him," Sullivan announced.
As they confirmed the discovery, the Boca Raton Police dive team was called to the scene. They pulled a white 2013 Ford Fusion from the dark water. Inside the vehicle, the Palm Beach County Medical Examiner's Office later confirmed where Steven McCrell's skeletal remains. For Steven's father, Donald, the news brought complicated emotions. It's part shock, part relief, he told reporters.
I told everybody I would rather have that day come than not coming at all ever because 10 years was a long time. His mother, Astred, who had spent a decade searching, believed the silver sedan held the key to understanding how Steven ended up in that lake.
I strongly believe, I might be wrong, you know, but I strongly believe, she said, referring to the surveillance footage of the car following her son. Because you don't follow somebody the way they followed Steven on the video for no reason. Mike Sullivan and his team felt profound relief at being able to provide closure after so many years. We're just happy that we can provide them with these answers and they no longer have to wonder, you know, what happened to the son, the brother, and family member and friend, Sullivan explained. But closure doesn't mean the case is solved. The discovery of Steven's body raised
as many questions as it answered. How did Steven's car end up in that specific pond? The location is in Boca Raton, south of where he was last seen in Pompeno Beach. Was he deliberately run off the road by the occupants of the silver sedan? Did he lose control while being followed? Was this an accident or something more sinister? The circumstances surrounding how McCrell and his vehicle ended up submerged remain under investigation. Fort Lauderdale police are still asking anyone who had contact with Steven on
the night of July 30th, 2015 or who has information about his disappearance to come forward. The case is not officially closed despite the recovery of his remains. Investigators want to know what happened during that confrontation at the gas station. They want to identify the people in the silver sedan.
They want to understand the sequence of events that led a young father to end up at the bottom of a lake, hidden for 10 years, while his family searched desperately for answers. Steven's story is a reminder of how cases that seem impossibly cold can suddenly break open with new technology and persistent investigators.
It took a private dive team using modern sonar equipment to find what nearly 200 searches by law enforcement had missed. The lake at Peninsula Corporate Circle had presumably been searched before, but older equipment failed to detect the submerged vehicle that newer technology found within hours. For 10 years, Astrid McCrell carried missing person posters.
For 10 years, Skyler grew up without her father. For 10 years, the Mccrell family lived in an agonizing limbo between hope and grief. Now they have Steven's remains. They can finally lay him to rest. But the question of what really happened that night.
Why a routine trip home from a bar ended with a young man's car submerged in a Boca Raton lake remains unanswered. The silver sedan, the people inside it, and their role in Steven's death are still mysteries waiting to be solved. The surveillance footage from that Valero gas station still exists. Steven stumbling through the snack aisle at 2:32 in the morning. Steven arguing with someone outside.
Steven driving away with a silver sedan following close behind. Those grainy images are all that remain of Steven McCrell's final moments in the world of the living. Captured by cameras that recorded his last interaction with other human beings before he disappeared into the dark floor tonight and ended up underwater waiting 10 years to be found.
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