The Borden Murder House

The house at 230 Second Street in Fall River, Massachusetts, is an unremarkable clapboard structure of the type that filled New England neighborhoods in the late nineteenth century — two and a half stories, a modest front porch, rooms that are comfortable but not spacious. Thousands of similar houses dot the cities and towns of southeastern Massachusetts, and in any other circumstances this one would attract no more attention than its neighbors. But on the sweltering morning of August 4, 1892, something happened inside this house that would sear its address into the American consciousness forever. Andrew Jackson Borden and his wife Abby Durfee Borden were hacked to death with a hatchet in separate rooms, their skulls split open and their faces reduced to unrecognizable ruin. Andrew’s daughter Lizzie was charged, tried, and acquitted of the murders in a trial that riveted the nation. The question of who killed the Bordens has never been definitively answered. And according to the countless visitors who have passed through the house in the century since, the Bordens themselves have never left.

The Borden Household

To understand the haunting, one must first understand the household — and the tensions within it — that preceded the murders. Andrew Borden was one of Fall River’s wealthiest men, with an estate valued at approximately $300,000 at the time of his death, equivalent to roughly ten million dollars today. He had made his fortune through a combination of banking, real estate, and manufacturing interests, and he managed his money with a parsimony that bordered on the pathological. Despite his wealth, Andrew refused to install indoor plumbing or modern heating in the family home. The house had no bathroom on the upper floors. The family used slop buckets at night rather than descend to the ground-floor water closet. Andrew heated the house with coal stoves rather than install a furnace. In a city where men of far lesser means lived in modern comfort, Andrew Borden’s family lived in conditions that his wealth rendered entirely unnecessary.

This miserliness was a source of deep resentment within the household, particularly from Andrew’s two daughters by his first marriage. Emma Borden, the elder, was forty-one in 1892, unmarried and dependent on her father. Lizzie, thirty-two, was similarly unmarried and similarly dependent. Both daughters chafed under their father’s tight control of the family finances and his refusal to provide them with the standard of living his wealth could easily have supported. The relationship between the daughters and their stepmother, Abby, was openly hostile. Lizzie and Emma referred to Abby as “Mrs. Borden” rather than “Mother,” and a property dispute in 1887 — in which Andrew transferred a house to Abby’s relatives while refusing similar gifts to his daughters — had deepened the estrangement to the point of genuine hatred.

The household in the summer of 1892 was a pressure cooker of resentment, frustration, and simmering rage. Emma was away visiting friends. The Irish maid, Bridget Sullivan, was ill with a stomach complaint that had also affected other members of the household, leading to speculation about poisoning. The August heat was oppressive. And within this claustrophobic atmosphere of grudges and grievances, someone picked up a hatchet.

The Morning of August 4

The sequence of events on the morning of August 4, 1892, has been reconstructed from testimony and forensic evidence, though significant gaps and contradictions remain. Andrew Borden left the house at approximately 9:00 AM to conduct his usual round of business in downtown Fall River. Abby Borden went upstairs to the guest room on the second floor, where she had been making the bed. Lizzie was somewhere in the house. Bridget Sullivan was washing windows outside.

At some point between 9:00 and 9:30 AM, while Andrew was away, someone entered the guest room and attacked Abby Borden from behind as she stood making the bed. The first blow struck the back of her head, and she fell face-down on the floor. The killer then struck her seventeen more times, crushing her skull and spattering blood across the walls, the floor, and the bed. Abby’s body was so close to the floor that several blows actually pushed bone fragments into the carpet. She died almost instantly from the first blow; the subsequent strikes were an expression of rage that exceeded any practical purpose.

Andrew Borden returned home at approximately 10:30 AM. Bridget Sullivan let him in through the front door, which was secured with multiple locks. Lizzie, according to testimony, was nearby. Andrew, feeling unwell in the heat, lay down on the sofa in the sitting room to rest. He removed his boots but kept his coat on. He appears to have fallen asleep.

At approximately 11:10 AM, someone approached Andrew as he lay sleeping on the sofa and struck him in the face with a hatchet. The first blow split his cheek from eye to jaw. Ten more blows followed, delivered with such force that one of Andrew’s eyes was cut in half and his nose was severed from his face. The blood splattered across the wall behind the sofa and pooled on the floor beneath. Like Abby’s killing ninety minutes earlier, the violence was grotesquely excessive — far beyond what was necessary to cause death.

Lizzie called Bridget Sullivan downstairs with the words that would echo through American criminal history: “Come quick! Father’s dead. Somebody came in and killed him.”

The Trial and Acquittal

Lizzie Borden was arrested and charged with both murders. The trial, held in June 1893, was a national sensation that attracted reporters from across the country and generated newspaper coverage that rivaled any event of the era. The circumstantial evidence against Lizzie was substantial. She was the only known person in the house besides Bridget Sullivan at the time of Andrew’s murder and had been present during the period when Abby was killed. She had attempted to purchase prussic acid — a deadly poison — from a Fall River pharmacy the day before the murders. She had burned a dress in the kitchen stove three days after the killings, claiming it was stained with paint. Her accounts of her movements during the murders were inconsistent and at times contradictory.

Yet the jury acquitted her after only ninety minutes of deliberation. The reasons for the acquittal were complex. The presiding judge excluded some key evidence, including Lizzie’s inconsistent inquest testimony. The prosecution’s case was entirely circumstantial — no murder weapon was definitively identified, no bloodstained clothing was found, and no witness saw Lizzie commit the acts. Perhaps most importantly, the jury — all men, in an era when women could not serve — found it difficult to believe that a respectable, church-going, middle-class white woman could be capable of such savagery. The Victorian conception of feminine nature simply did not accommodate the image of a woman wielding a hatchet with the force and ferocity that the evidence required.

Lizzie was free, but she was never truly exonerated. She remained in Fall River for the rest of her life, living in a larger, more comfortable house that she purchased with her inheritance. She changed her name to Lizbeth. She was shunned by much of Fall River society, which remained convinced of her guilt despite the verdict. She died in 1927, nine days before her sister Emma, and was buried in the family plot beside the father and stepmother she was accused of butchering. The question of her guilt or innocence has been debated for over a century and shows no sign of resolution.

The House Becomes a Museum

The Borden house at 230 Second Street passed through several owners after the murders. It served as a private residence for decades, though its notoriety made it a destination for the curious long before it was officially opened to the public. In 1996, the house was purchased and converted into a bed and breakfast museum, offering guests the opportunity to tour the crime scenes, examine forensic evidence, and — for those with sufficient nerve — sleep in the rooms where the murders occurred.

The conversion of the Borden house into a commercial enterprise devoted to the murders was controversial, but it also ensured the preservation of a site that might otherwise have been demolished or altered beyond recognition. The house has been restored to its approximate 1892 appearance, with period furnishings and reproductions that allow visitors to see the rooms much as they looked on the morning of the murders. The sofa where Andrew Borden died has been replicated and placed in its original position. The guest room where Abby fell is maintained as it was, its bed and furnishings arranged as they would have been that fatal morning.

It is in this carefully preserved environment that the paranormal activity reportedly flourishes.

The Haunting

The supernatural phenomena reported at the Borden house span the full spectrum of haunting activity, from subtle atmospheric disturbances to full-bodied apparitions. The sheer volume of reports — from guests, staff, paranormal investigators, and casual visitors — has made the house one of the most consistently active haunted locations in the United States.

The auditory phenomena are perhaps the most commonly reported. Guests sleeping in the house — particularly those staying in the room where Abby was killed or in the sitting room near the sofa where Andrew died — report hearing sounds that seem to come from another era. Footsteps are heard on the stairs and in the hallways at all hours, measured and deliberate, as if someone were walking through the house on their daily rounds. The footsteps are heard when the house is known to be otherwise empty, and their pattern does not correspond to the movements of any living person in the building.

Weeping is another frequently reported sound. Guests describe hearing quiet, anguished crying that seems to come from no specific direction — it fills the room without apparent source, rising and falling in intensity before fading to silence. Some witnesses describe the crying as female, while others are unable to determine its character beyond a profound sense of grief and distress. The weeping is most commonly reported in the hours between midnight and dawn, when the house is at its quietest and the distance between the present and the past seems thinnest.

The sounds of physical disturbance — objects being moved, doors being opened and closed, the creak of someone settling onto a bed or a sofa — are reported with unsettling regularity. Guests hear the sound of furniture being rearranged in rooms above or beside them, only to find, upon investigation, that nothing has been disturbed. The sounds are not violent or alarming but rather suggestive of ordinary domestic activity — the sounds of a household going about its morning routine, unaware that the morning in question ended more than a century ago.

Apparitions

Visual manifestations at the Borden house are less common than auditory ones but far more disturbing for those who experience them. The most frequently reported apparition is a figure seen standing or bending over guests as they lie in bed. Witnesses describe waking in the night to find a shadowy figure at the foot or side of their bed, apparently watching them. The figure is typically described as dark or indistinct, more a presence than a clearly defined form, and it vanishes when the witness fully wakes or reaches for a light.

More specific apparitions have also been reported. Several guests have described seeing an older woman in Victorian dress on the upper floor, particularly in or near the guest room where Abby Borden was killed. The figure is described as heavyset, consistent with descriptions of Abby, and appears to be engaged in some domestic activity before fading from view. Whether this figure represents the ghost of Abby Borden or a projection of the observer’s expectations is, of course, impossible to determine.

The sitting room where Andrew Borden was killed is another focus of visual activity. Guests and tour visitors have reported seeing indistinct shapes on or near the reproduction sofa, shadows that seem to form and dissipate without apparent cause. Some witnesses describe a specific impression of a man lying on the sofa, face turned toward the room, though the image is typically fleeting and dissolves upon close examination. Photographs taken in the sitting room have occasionally captured anomalous shadows or light effects, though none has withstood rigorous analysis as definitive evidence of the supernatural.

Physical Phenomena

The Borden house also produces phenomena that go beyond the visual and auditory. The phantom smell of cigar smoke is one of the most commonly reported experiences. Andrew Borden was known to smoke cigars, and the scent of cigar smoke has been detected by visitors and staff throughout the house, in areas where no one has smoked and in a building where smoking has been prohibited for years. The smell appears and disappears without warning, sometimes filling an entire room and other times manifesting as a brief whiff that might be dismissed if not for its frequency and its association with the house’s history.

Temperature anomalies are consistently documented. Specific areas of the house — most notably the sitting room, the guest room, and the basement — are reported to experience sudden, dramatic drops in temperature that are not attributable to drafts, air conditioning, or other environmental factors. Paranormal investigation teams have measured temperature differentials of ten degrees or more within a few feet of distance, cold spots that seem to occupy specific locations and then dissipate without apparent cause.

Some visitors report the sensation of being physically touched by an unseen presence. The experience is typically described as a light touch on the shoulder, arm, or hand, or a feeling of pressure on the chest as if someone were leaning against or over the witness. These sensations are most commonly reported in the rooms directly associated with the murders, and they can be deeply unsettling for those who experience them, combining the intimacy of physical contact with the knowledge that no living person is responsible.

Paranormal Investigations

The Borden house has been the subject of numerous formal paranormal investigations, conducted by teams ranging from amateur enthusiasts to established research organizations. The house’s status as a bed and breakfast and museum makes it unusually accessible for investigation — unlike many haunted locations, which restrict access, the Borden house actively welcomes investigators and has hosted hundreds of overnight research sessions.

The results of these investigations have been mixed but intriguing. Electronic voice phenomena (EVP) — voices captured on audio recording equipment that were not heard at the time of recording — have been documented by multiple teams. Some of these EVP recordings appear to contain words or phrases, though their interpretation is highly subjective. Common alleged responses include names, single-word answers to investigators’ questions, and what some interpret as cries for help.

Electromagnetic field measurements have revealed anomalies in specific locations, particularly in the sitting room and the guest room. Whether these anomalies are evidence of paranormal activity, artifacts of the building’s aging electrical wiring, or coincidental fluctuations is debated. Thermal imaging has corroborated the cold spots reported by visitors, documenting areas of reduced temperature in locations associated with the murders.

Photographic evidence from the Borden house is extensive but inconclusive. Hundreds of photographs have been submitted by guests and investigators who believe they have captured anomalous images — orbs, mists, shadows, and vague figures. While most of these can be attributed to dust, lens flare, long exposure effects, or pareidolia, a small number remain unexplained by conventional analysis. None, however, rises to the level of definitive proof.

The Persistence of Suffering

The Borden house haunting raises questions that go beyond the standard debate over the existence of ghosts. If the house is haunted — if something of Andrew and Abby Borden persists in the rooms where they were so brutally killed — what does their continued presence signify? Are they aware of the visitors who file through their home, examining the scenes of their deaths with a mixture of fascination and horror? Do they know that their murders were never definitively solved? Are they waiting for justice, for acknowledgment, for something that the living cannot provide?

The violence of their deaths was extraordinary, even by the standards of murder. The overkill — eighteen blows to Abby, eleven to Andrew — speaks to a rage so intense that it seems almost physical, as if the killer were trying not merely to end lives but to obliterate the people who lived them. Some theories of hauntings suggest that extreme violence creates a kind of spiritual rupture, a wound in the fabric of a place that never fully heals. If this theory has any validity, the Borden house is a prime candidate for such a rupture. The violence done within its walls exceeded anything the house was built to contain, and the echoes of that violence — if echoes they are — continue to resonate more than a century later.

The unsolved nature of the crime may also contribute to the haunting. In folklore and in many reported cases, ghosts are associated with unfinished business — spirits that cannot rest because something in their lives or deaths remains unresolved. The Borden murders are as unresolved as any crime in American history. Lizzie was acquitted. No one else was ever charged. The question of who swung the hatchet remains open, a wound in the historical record that mirrors the wounds in the victims’ skulls. If the dead truly do linger where their business is unfinished, then Andrew and Abby Borden have reason to stay.

Visiting the House

The Borden house remains open to the public, operating as a bed and breakfast and museum that welcomes visitors year-round. Day tours allow guests to walk through the crime scenes with guides who describe the events of August 4, 1892, in detail. Overnight guests can reserve rooms throughout the house, including the room where Abby was killed and the sitting room adjacent to the sofa where Andrew died. The experience of sleeping in a murder house is not for everyone, but for those drawn to the intersection of history and the supernatural, the Borden house offers an experience that few other locations can match.

Paranormal investigation teams can arrange dedicated overnight sessions, during which they have access to the entire house for extended periods. The staff is accustomed to working with investigators and can provide historical context and logistical support. Regular visitors should be prepared for an experience that may include unexpected sounds, temperature changes, and the unsettling feeling of being watched — though, as with all haunted locations, phenomena cannot be guaranteed and are experienced subjectively.

The house is located in downtown Fall River, easily accessible from the major highways that connect southeastern Massachusetts to Boston and Providence. The surrounding neighborhood has been designated a historic district, and several other Borden-related sites are within walking distance, including the cemetery where the family is buried and the former courthouse where Lizzie was tried.

The Unanswered Question

The Borden house stands as both a crime scene and a haunted house, and in many ways the two identities are inseparable. The crime created the haunting — or at least created the conditions under which a haunting might occur — and the haunting perpetuates the crime, keeping it alive in the public imagination long after the participants have died and the evidence has degraded beyond the possibility of forensic resolution.

Lizzie Borden took an axe, the children’s rhyme says, and gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one. The rhyme is factually wrong in every particular — the weapon was a hatchet, Abby was a stepmother, the actual number of blows was eighteen and eleven, and whether Lizzie did any of it remains unproven. But the rhyme persists, as rhymes do, and the house at 230 Second Street persists, and whatever walks its corridors in the small hours of the morning persists, indifferent to the passage of time and the fading of memory.

The living come and go. They tour the rooms, photograph the sofa, sleep in the beds, and leave with their stories. The dead, if they are there at all, remain. They have nowhere else to go. The question that brought them to this house — the question of who killed them and why — has never been answered, and until it is, they may continue their silent vigil, occupying the rooms where they fell, waiting for a resolution that may never come.

Sources

• Wikipedia search: “The Borden Murder House”
• Society for Psychical Research — SPR proceedings, peer-reviewed psychical research since 1882
• Library of Congress — American Folklife Center — American folklore archive
• Chronicling America — Historic US newspapers (1690–1963)