Infamous Addresses
By M.P. Pellicer | Noir Notebook
Infamous houses where notorious crimes have been committed often become dark tourist spots. In some cases house numbers are changed or they are totally demolished to erase their history. Places like the rental property where four Idaho students were stabbed in 2022, the site of the unsolved case of JonBenet Ramsey, the homes of O.J. Simpson and his wife Nicole Simpson Brown and the Murdaugh estate in South Carolina are all examples of this.
IDAHO 4
The infamous house at 1122 King Road in Moscow, Idaho—where a brutal killer fatally stabbed four University of Idaho students on November 13, 2022—met its end on December 28, 2023, when demolition crews razed it to the ground.
Ethan Chapin, Xana Kernodle, Madison Mogen, and Kaylee Goncalves lost their lives in that chilling early-morning attack, a case that gripped the nation with its senseless violence and lingering mysteries. The University of Idaho chose to demolish the property, arguing that it would aid community healing by erasing a haunting symbol of the tragedy. The owner had donated the boarded-up, fenced-off house to the university in spring 2023, after it sat vacant and shrouded in grief.
Yet, the decision sparked fierce opposition from some victims’ families, especially the Goncalves and Kernodle relatives. They insisted the site still held vital evidence that could unlock more truths about the murders. Despite their pleas, the demolition went forward. Prosecutors and defense attorneys had already documented the home extensively, capturing 3D scans, photos, and measurements. Officials assured everyone that no key evidence would vanish—and a jury visit was out of the question anyway, given the building’s rundown state.
Authorities arrested Bryan Kohberger, then a 28-year-old criminology PhD student at nearby Washington State University, in December 2022. They charged him with four counts of first-degree murder and one count of felony burglary. In a stunning turn, Kohberger pleaded guilty to all charges on July 2, 2025, as part of a plea deal that spared him the death penalty. On July 23, 2025, a judge sentenced him to four consecutive life terms without parole, plus 10 years for the burglary.
The autopsies painted a gruesome picture of the frenzy: The victims endured over 150 stab wounds in total. Kaylee Goncalves suffered at least 38, including defensive injuries that hinted at a desperate struggle. Madison Mogen bore 28 wounds. Xana Kernodle fought hardest, with 67 slashes—many defensive—showing her fierce resistance. Ethan Chapin, likely attacked in his sleep, sustained 17 wounds.
Investigators pieced together a timeline: The killer struck in a blur, completing the assault in as little as two minutes and six seconds or up to three minutes and 45 seconds, based on simulated runs through the house. Crucial evidence sealed Kohberger’s fate—DNA from a knife sheath left at the scene, cellphone pings placing him nearby, and grainy surveillance video capturing his white Hyundai Elantra circling the area.
The victims’ families reacted with a mix of relief and rage. Some blasted the plea deal as a rushed, shadowy agreement that robbed them of full closure and the answers they craved.
What drove Kohberger to this horror? He has never revealed his motive. Even after his guilty plea in July 2025, he stayed silent during sentencing, and the deal didn’t force him to explain. Prosecutors uncovered no prior ties between him and the victims, leaving the “why” as one of true crime’s most tantalizing enigmas.
Forensic psychologist Dr. Gary Brucato floated a chilling theory from the autopsy details: Kohberger might have targeted Madison Mogen in a twisted psychosexual fantasy. But investigators never confirmed this, and it remains outside official evidence.
Adding to the intrigue, detectives suspect Kohberger didn’t intend to slaughter four that night. Clues point to him heading straight for the third-floor bedroom, sparking endless speculation: Was Mogen or Goncalves his primary obsession? As Kohberger rots in prison, these shadows of motive and intent continue to haunt the case, drawing true crime enthusiasts into debates over what darkness lurks in an ordinary student’s mind.
Kohberger’s Red Flags
While pursuing his criminology Ph.D. at Washington State University, Bryan Kohberger quickly earned a troubling reputation among peers and faculty. Fellow graduate students described him as rude, condescending—particularly toward women—and domineering. Some openly labeled him a potential “incel” (involuntary celibate) and even a “possible future rapist.” One faculty member, who claimed experience working with predators, issued a stark warning to colleagues: “Mark my words… if we give him a Ph.D., that’s the guy that in many years when he is a professor, we will hear is harassing, stalking, and sexually abusing his students.”
The concerns went beyond words. The university fielded at least nine formal complaints—some reports cite up to 13—from faculty, staff, and students about his “rude and belittling behavior toward women.” Female classmates reported feeling unsafe around him. Incidents included aggressive, unblinking stares that made women uncomfortable enough to flee rooms, physically blocking doorways to trap female grad students in offices until they could leave, and following women to their cars. In one documented case, a professor escorted a female student to her vehicle out of explicit concern over Kohberger’s conduct.
Kohberger’s research only amplified the unease. He focused intensely on “sexually motivated burglars,” distinguishing them sharply from ordinary burglars in his work. He expressed fascination with the inner experience of crime—particularly “the emotions of what it felt like when committing a crime” and “how offenders might avoid getting caught.” He even authored papers and conducted informal surveys (via Reddit) on criminals’ emotional states during offenses, delving into offender decision-making and the thrill or psychology behind such acts.
These details, drawn from newly released investigative documents and interviews, paint a haunting portrait of hindsight: a criminology student whose creepy demeanor, misogynistic patterns, and fixation on sexualized burglary raised serious alarms—yet went largely unaddressed. In true crime circles, this fuels endless speculation: Were these early warning signs of the darkness that erupted on King Road? Or missed opportunities that might have prevented the tragedy? The unanswered questions keep the case gripping, a stark reminder that predators can hide in plain sight—even in academic halls studying crime itself.
It took surviving roommate Dylan Mortensen over four hours to call 911 after she initially heard noises and saw a masked man in the house. She encountered the suspect around 4 a.m., the call was made after she and another roommate Bethany Funke found an unresponsive victim later that morning.
A chilling ripple from the University of Idaho murders: A federal jury in Boise just slammed a Texas TikTok “psychic” with a massive $10 million verdict for falsely accusing an Rebecca Scofield of orchestrating the 2022 quadruple stabbing.
On Friday, February 27, 2026, jurors in U.S. District Court unanimously awarded the University of Idaho history professor the verdict in damages—far exceeding the $1 million her attorneys requested in closing arguments.
Scofield, chair of the university’s history department, sued Houston resident Ashley Guillard (known online as a tarot-reading influencer) back in December 2022. Guillard flooded TikTok with over 100 videos—racking up millions of views—baselessly claiming Scofield had a secret romantic affair with one of the victims and “ordered” their brutal killings to cover it up. She presented these wild accusations as insights from her “spiritual intuition” and tarot readings.
Scofield never met any of the victims, and she was out of state on November 13, 2022, when Kohberger slaughtered the students.
In June 2024, Chief U.S. Magistrate Judge Raymond Patricco already ruled Guillard’s statements legally defamatory, leaving only the damages amount for the jury to decide after a short four-day trial focused solely on that question.
Scofield testified powerfully about the fallout: severe anxiety, PTSD, chronic nerve pain, and deep reputational damage that made her job as department chair nearly unbearable. The false claims turned her life upside down, forcing her to live with constant fear and scrutiny tied to one of the nation’s most infamous true crime cases.
Guillard, representing herself, doubled down in court, insisting her posts were mere expressions of belief rooted in psychic methods—not facts. The jury wasn’t swayed. They deliberated less than two hours before delivering the stinging award.
In the vacuum left by the still-unresolved “why” behind Bryan Kohberger’s crimes, conspiracy theories exploded—some harmless, others destructive. Here, one woman’s viral tarot-fueled fantasies crossed into defamation territory, ruining an innocent person’s life and costing her millions in court.
JonBenet Ramsey
Early in the morning on December 26, 1996, Patsy Ramsey called 911 to report that her daughter, 6-year-old JonBenet Ramsey had been abducted from their Boulder, Colorado home.
Patsy claimed to have found a handwritten ransom note on stationery from the house. It demanded payment of $118,000. Hours later John Bennett Ramsey found the child’s body in the basement. She was sexually assaulted, beaten and garroted to death.
JonBenet’s parents were considered early suspected but were never charged. Patsy died in 2006 from ovarian cancer.
In 2008 she along with her husband and son Burke Ramsey were exonerated in the case.
The Ramsey family moved into the house five years before. The home has close to 8,000 square feet spread across three stories. It’s within walking distance of the University of Colorado Boulder campus. After JonBenet’s death her family never stayed overnight in the home again.
They sold the property to investors for $650,000 in February 1998.
From 1999 to 2001, E.J. “Doc” Kreiss, then a strength and conditioning coach for the University of Colorado, rented the home.
In June 2001, the street address of the property was changed slightly, and a large fence, gate and tall trees were added to give the home more privacy.
Tim Milner and Carol Schuller Milner, daughter of televangelist Robert H. Schuller, bought the home in May 2004 for $1.05 million.
In July 2008, the Milners listed the property for $2.68 million but took it off the market without selling. They listed the home again in May 2009, taking the price down to $2.29 million and listed it once again in February 2011 for $2.3 million, but the house still didn’t sell. The price was cut even more steeply in 2014 when it was listed for $1.98 million, but the Milners still didn’t offload the house.
The Milners then renovated the house and in November 2022, listed it for $7.25 million. In March 2023, the Milners cut the price to $6.95 million, reducing it further to $6.24 million seven months later. As of March 2024, the house was pulled from the market once more without a buyer.
“The market perceives anything dealing with children who have been injured, abused, or murdered as the most heinous condition. It has a dramatic effect on property values,” Orell Anderson, a forensic real estate appraiser who assessed the property after the murder.
He added that properties with dark pasts, especially involving children, are typically sold at 10% to 25% discounts, and sometimes for even cheaper if the crimes were particularly disturbing. Anderson also noted that the property may potentially attract unwanted attention from tourists, who sometimes visit “murder houses” when they’re on vacation.
The infamous O.J. Simpson saga—a case that gripped the world and forever changed true crime storytelling—began with unimaginable brutality on the night of June 12, 1994. Nicole Brown Simpson, O.J.’s ex-wife, and her friend Ron Goldman were discovered stabbed to death outside her Brentwood condo at what was then 875 South Bundy Drive (later changed to 879). Blood soaked the front steps and walkway in one of the most photographed crime scenes in history.
Nicole endured years of severe domestic violence from Simpson, starting in 1977 when she was just 18 and he was a married NFL superstar. Their relationship spiraled into control, jealousy, and escalating physical terror. In her private diary, Nicole detailed 62 incidents of abuse: punches, kicks, chokings, and even threats with a gun. The violence peaked publicly in 1989 when police responded to a savage beating—her face bruised, lip split, eye blackened—requiring hospital treatment. Simpson pleaded no contest to spousal abuse, received probation, and escaped jail time. The slap on the wrist only emboldened him.
Even after their 1992 divorce, Simpson stalked and harassed her, repeatedly violating restraining orders while trying to dictate her life. Just five days before the murders, Nicole called a domestic violence hotline, too terrified to give her full name, and described her ex-husband’s violent rage. Advocates today hail her story as a classic example of narcissistic abuse: charm on the surface, iron-fisted control beneath, with repeated violence normalized or excused.
Police quickly zeroed in on Simpson as the prime suspect, amassing enough evidence to charge him with two counts of murder. When he failed to surrender, the world watched the surreal low-speed chase of a white Bronco on live TV—Simpson in the back seat, armed, evading arrest as helicopters swarmed overhead. Authorities later took him into custody.
The “Trial of the Century” unfolded over 11 months in 1995, captivating millions with racial tensions, celebrity drama, and explosive moments like the infamous glove demonstration (“If it doesn’t fit, you must acquit”). In the end, the jury acquitted Simpson of both murders. He walked free—no further arrests or convictions ever tied him to the killings.
In 1997, a civil jury found Simpson liable for the wrongful deaths and ordered him to pay the Brown and Goldman families $33 million.
He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—pay fully, and financial pressures mounted. He defaulted on the mortgage for his sprawling Brentwood estate at 360 North Rockingham Avenue (bought in 1977 for $650,000). The iconic property—where he and Nicole once lived and married—was sold, then demolished in 1998. New owners built a fresh mansion behind a privacy gate, erasing the physical traces of the Juice’s glory days.
Simpson’s downfall accelerated in September 2007. In a Las Vegas hotel room, he and accomplices stormed two sports memorabilia dealers, armed and aggressive, to reclaim items he claimed were stolen from him years earlier.
Convicted of kidnapping, armed robbery, assault, and more, he received a 33-year sentence with a nine-year minimum—imposed on October 3, 2008, exactly 13 years after his murder acquittal. He served the minimum, paroled in 2017 after good behavior, and spent his final years in Florida and Nevada.
Nicole’s condo at 879 South Bundy Drive—originally a 3,400-square-foot, four-bedroom townhouse she bought in January 1994 for $625,000—sat vacant for over two years after the murders.
It sold in 1997 for a steep loss at $525,000. Owners later renovated heavily: new address, fresh landscaping, removed the blood-stained walkway and gate, and transformed it into a modern Mediterranean estate with a tennis court and guest house.
Resold in 2006 for $1.72 million, recent estimates from 2025), valued it around $2.6–$2.8 million.
The current owner, reportedly John Planchard (a former real estate analyst), lives there privately—yet true crime pilgrims still seek it out, drawn to the site’s inescapable history.
O.J. Simpson died of prostate cancer on April 10, 2024, at age 76 in Las Vegas—surrounded by family, according to their statement, though some reports questioned the details of his final moments.
Of the multimillion dollar civil suit awarded to the Brown and Goldman family he only paid approximately $150,000.
Decades later, the Simpson case remains true crime’s ultimate lightning rod: a tale of celebrity privilege, domestic terror ignored, a polarizing acquittal, and lingering questions of justice. Nicole’s desperate calls for help, the bloody crime scene, the Bronco chase, the glove fiasco—each element fuels endless debate. Was it the “real killer” never found? Or did the system fail twice—once in the criminal court, once in letting abuse escalate unchecked? The shadows of Bundy Drive and Rockingham Avenue still whisper: How many warnings were missed, and at what cost?
Marcia Clark, the former Los Angeles County prosecutor who failed to convict OJ Simpson says she would probably fail to convict now, for the same reason: jurors didn’t care whether he was guilty or not. She says some of the nine black jurors “came in for the purpose of payback. They didn’t care whether he was guilty or innocent. They were going to use this case for payback.”
Despite the ample evidence pointing to Simpson’s guilt, it seems the jury had made up their mind he was going to walk away from a murder charge.
Murder in the Low Country
On June 7, 2021, Maggie Murdaugh and her son Paul were gunned down on their property known as Cross Swamp Farm on the outskirts of Islandton, South Carolina. In the months to come the senseless crime sprouted more ugly heads than a hydra.
Margaret “Maggie” Kennedy Branstetter, a graduate of the University of South Carolina and the granddaughter of a barber, married Alex Murdaugh, a member of one of South Carolina’s most powerful legal dynasties. The couple had two sons, Buster Murdaugh and Paul Murdaugh.
Maggie preferred staying at the family’s sprawling 1,700-acre hunting estate on Moselle Road near the small town of Hampton, deep in South Carolina’s Lowcountry.
Shortly after 9 p.m., Alex Murdaugh called 911 and reported that he had discovered their bodies near the dog kennels. Maggie and Paul had been riddled with bullets from two different weapons—a semi-automatic rifle and a shotgun.
The double homicide stunned the rural community. Yet whispers soon spread that tragedy had long shadowed the Murdaugh family.
For more than a century, the Murdaughs dominated the region’s legal system. Members of the family served as prosecutors and powerful civil attorneys in South Carolina’s 14th Judicial Circuit, which covers Beaufort, Jasper, Hampton, Allendale, and Colleton counties.
The family lived in Hampton, a quiet town with few chain stores and a population that rarely drew national attention. The family law firm—Peters, Murdaugh, Parker, Eltzroth & Detrick—operated about 65 miles away in Charleston.
But by 2021, the family’s legacy had begun to unravel.
Paul Murdaugh had been awaiting trial on felony charges related to a 2019 boating crash that killed Mallory Beach, a 19-year-old passenger.
That night, Paul and five other underage friends used fake IDs to buy alcohol before taking a boat to an oyster roast on Paukie Island. On the return trip, Paul drove the boat while heavily intoxicated.
According to testimony from Anthony Cook, Paul’s childhood friend and Mallory Beach’s boyfriend, Paul argued with his girlfriend and slapped her shortly before the crash.
Moments later, the boat slammed into a bridge piling on Archer Creek.
All six passengers were thrown into the dark water. Five made it to shore. Mallory Beach did not.
Her body surfaced a week later.
Friends later said Paul had long displayed reckless behavior. One relative recalled that when he was around 11 years old, he angrily told his aunt Nancy to “go f— herself.” Even then, he struggled with authority.
Maggie doted on her sons, especially Paul. A homemaker, she devoted much of her life to raising them.
The Murdaugh family denied accusations that they used their legal influence to protect Paul after the boating crash. Still, critics alleged that officers never administered a proper sobriety test that night.
Among Paul’s friends, stories circulated about an alter ego they called “Timmy.” When Paul drank heavily, they said, he became erratic, aggressive, and sometimes stripped down to his boxer shorts. By 2015, his friends had learned to recognize the signs that “Timmy” was about to appear—and when it was time to leave.
By the time of Paul’s death, the Murdaugh family was also facing a civil lawsuit filed by Mallory Beach’s mother.
Another troubling case lingered in the background.
In 2018, the family’s longtime housekeeper, Gloria Satterfield, died after what was described as a “trip and fall” accident at the Murdaugh home.
According to legal filings, the family initially claimed that the Murdaughs’ dogs caused Satterfield to fall down a flight of stairs. She suffered a traumatic brain injury and died roughly 20 days later.
The case later exposed a massive financial scheme.
Insurance settlements tied to her death eventually totaled $4.3 million—but Alex Murdaugh never passed that money on to Satterfield’s family.
Residents of Hampton later recalled that Maggie Murdaugh was the only member of the family who visited Satterfield while she lay dying in the hospital. The housekeeper had worked for the Murdaughs for more than 20 years.
In the aftermath of the murders, investigators initially examined possible enemies of the family. Over the decades, the Murdaughs had prosecuted criminals, filed lawsuits, and accumulated rivals.
Another unresolved death also resurfaced.
In 2015, the body of Stephen Smith, a 19-year-old nursing student from Hampton, was discovered in the middle of a rural road. His skull had been crushed.
Authorities originally ruled the death a hit-and-run, but rumors circulated for years about possible connections to the Murdaugh family.
In 2021, investigators reopened the case after uncovering new information while examining Maggie and Paul’s murders.
Meanwhile, Alex Murdaugh claimed he had an alibi the night of the killings. He told police he had been visiting his father, Randolph Murdaugh III, who lay dying in a hospital. Randolph died three days later.
At first, investigators did not launch a major manhunt.
On June 17, 2021, Alex’s brothers appeared on Good Morning America, pleading for the public’s help in solving the murders.
But the investigation soon took a dramatic turn.
Within three months, Alex Murdaugh’s own law firm accused him of stealing millions of dollars through a fraudulent bank account.
Authorities soon uncovered a bizarre alleged suicide plot. Prosecutors said Murdaugh had hired his longtime associate and drug supplier, Curtis Edward Smith, to shoot him so his surviving son could collect a $10 million life-insurance payout.
Instead, the bullet only grazed Murdaugh’s head.
A passing motorist called 911 after spotting a man covered in blood on the side of Salkehatchie Road.
Murdaugh later told dispatchers someone had stopped to help him with a flat tire and then tried to shoot him.
Investigators eventually concluded the incident had been staged.
By 2022, prosecutors charged Murdaugh and Smith with conspiracy and drug-related offenses. Financial records showed that between 2013 and 2021, Smith had cashed 437 checks from Murdaugh totaling more than $2.4 million.
In July 2022, authorities arrested Alex Murdaugh for the murders of Maggie and Paul. Prosecutors said cellphone video placed him at the crime scene minutes before the killings.
In March 2023, a jury deliberated for just three hours before convicting him on two counts of murder.
The judge sentenced him to two consecutive life sentences.
Meanwhile, investigators continued unraveling the web of financial crimes surrounding the once-powerful lawyer. Prosecutors eventually filed roughly 100 charges tied to fraud, money laundering, and theft.
The murder trial also triggered renewed scrutiny of older cases, including the deaths of Stephen Smith and Gloria Satterfield.
Even after the conviction, the drama continued.
In 2024, allegations surfaced that Rebecca Hill—the clerk of court during the trial—had improperly influenced jurors and promoted a book she co-wrote about the case.
Murdaugh’s attorneys argued that jury tampering denied their client a fair trial.
The South Carolina Supreme Court later agreed to hear arguments over whether Murdaugh deserves a new trial.
Meanwhile, the Moselle property itself became part of the story.
In March 2023, the estate—along with roughly 1,770 surrounding acres—was sold at auction.
Businessman Alexander Wallace Blair eventually purchased the house and 21 acres for about $1 million. After extensive renovations, he listed the property for $2.75 million in late 2024.
The listing attracted intense public curiosity, but the home struggled to sell.
When Alex Murdaugh’s trial commenced in 2021, his grandfather’s portrait was removed from the South Carolina courtroom. Randolph “Buster” Murdaugh was the 14th Circuit Solicitor. The Murdaughs served in the 14th circuit from 1920 to 2006.
Alex Murdaugh’s great-grandfather Randolph Murdaugh Sr. died on July 19, 1940 when his auto mysteriously stopped on a railroad crossing in the middle of the night. The train engineer testified the car stopped just before crossing the tracks, then at the last moment lurched forward into the path of the locomotive. He had outlived both of his wives, Etta (1889-1918) and Estelle (1891-1937). Etta had died from a case of puerperal sepsis which occurs after childbirth or miscarriage. She was only 29 years old. She is Alex Murdaugh great-grandmother.
Estelle Murdaugh died at age of 45, of an unknown illness that left her bedridden for 5 months. Interestingly, Randolph was buried next to his first wife Etta, and Estelle was buried in a separate cemetery in Varnville.
Randolph Murdaugh Sr.’s death was ruled accidental even though rumors swirled of suicide or alcohol playing a role. His son filed a wrongful death suit against the railroad which was settled out of court. Buster Murdaugh followed in his father’s footsteps and served as solicitor from 1940 to 1986. His son, Randolph in turn served from 1986 to 2006.
In October 2024, Blair spoke to Realtor.com about his reasons for purchasing the home:
“He [Blair] insists that he believes Murdaugh is innocent of the murders of his wife and son, while revealing that—despite reports to the contrary—his portion of the property did include the kennels where his son Paul was shot.
A crime scene expert determined Murdaugh ambushed Paul in the dog kennels and shot him twice, then shot his wife five times, delivering the final shots after she fell to her knees.
However, Blair claimed that could not have been the case, revealing that he was actually in possession of the kennel door and window that contain the bullet holes, which he said served as clear evidence of Murdaugh’s innocence.
‘I have the door and the window from the dog kennel,’ he said. ‘[Murdaugh] is a big man; he was even bigger back then, and he’s too big for the bullets to have gone through in the way that they did.’
‘Maybe it was karma for other things that he did,” he went on. “But I don’t think he killed them.’
Reports initially suggested that the dog kennels had not been included in the 21-acre portion of the Murdaugh family estate that he purchased. However, Blair says that the kennels, as well as Murdaugh’s private airplane hangar, were both part of the sale.
He tore down both structures while renovating the home.He added that, while he didn’t know Murdaugh personally, many of the locals who live on the street where the Moselle Estate House sits agreed with him that the former lawyer is not guilty of the murders.“
By early 2026, the property had once again been pulled from the market.
Even as the land changed hands, the shadow of the murders lingered over the Lowcountry estate where one of America’s most powerful legal families finally collapsed under the weight of its secrets.