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What is it about places marked by murder and violence that continue to pique our interest, long after the crimes have been committed? Caitlin Blackwell Baines uncovers the history behind some of the world's most morbid locations – from a crumbling Slovakian castle to Jack the Ripper’s Whitechapel
1. Canterbury Cathedral, Kent, United Kingdom
Founded in AD 597, Canterbury Cathedral is Britain’s oldest and most important religious complex: the ‘mother church’ of the Anglican faith and seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury.
With its soaring 250-foot central tower and 13,000 square feet of stained-glass windows, the cathedral draws more than a million visitors each year – some who come to worship, others simply to marvel at its serene majesty. Such a setting would seem an unlikely place for a murder, but, ironically, that murder has been a big part of the pull for the past 850 or so years.
The victim was Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, who, on the night of 29 December 1170, was hacked to death in the cathedral’s northwest transept. Once a royal favourite – Henry II’s chancellor and closest confidant – Becket ran afoul of the monarch soon after being ordained in 1162. By refusing to uphold the king’s authority over that of the church in the following years, the archbishop effectively sealed his fate.
“Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” Henry is reported to have ranted to his courtiers. Interpreting this as a kind of kingly hit order, four of his knights stole away under the cover of night, travelling in secret from Normandy to Canterbury, where they accosted Becket as he entered the cathedral.
At first, the knights attempted to arrest the cleric, but when he refused to accompany them, a violent scuffle broke out. As Becket desperately clung to a column, the knights slashed at him with their swords, eventually striking a fatal blow to the top of his head, spraying blood and gore across the cathedral floor.
The gruesome crime shocked the whole of Christendom, quickly transforming victim into martyr, and crime scene into pilgrimage site.
2. Čachtice Castle, Slovakia
You’ve probably heard of Castle Dracula, the seat of the titular character in Bram Stoker’s classic horror novel. But have you heard of Čachtice Castle? It is the setting for a real-life horror story far more frightening than anything dreamed up in Gothic fiction.
Now a crumbling ruin, teetering on a rocky outcrop in the Trenchin region of western Slovakia, the castle was once home to Countess Elizabeth Báthory – purportedly the most prolific female serial killer in history.
Čachtice Castle began its existence as a 13th-century fortress built to defend the western border of the Kingdom of Hungary. Over the centuries, it was expanded and transformed into a stately home. Passing through several hands, it eventually came into the possession of nobleman Francis Nádasdy II, who, in 1575, gifted it to his 14-year-old bride, Elizabeth Báthory, as a wedding present.
By all accounts, the marriage of Francis and Elizabeth was a happy one. Home life at Čachtice Castle, on the other hand, was not exactly the picture of domestic bliss. With Francis frequently away on military campaigns against the Ottoman Turks, Elizabeth was left behind to manage the family’s household and vast estates, and in her husband’s absence, the countess seems to have taken up an unusual hobby: the torture and murder of her servants.
Her many victims – a revolving door of peasant girls recruited from nearby villages – were variously cut, burnt, bitten, beaten, starved and even frozen to death. Posthumous rumours that Báthory bathed in the blood of her prey to preserve her youth have never been proven, but the available evidence suggests that her actions went far beyond that of a harsh mistress.
She was a sadistic killer whose position of power and relative isolation at Čachtice Castle allowed her to operate unchecked for over two decades. During this time, she is estimated to have killed as many as 600 young women and girls.
Had the cruel countess stuck to her original victim pool of poor servants, she may have escaped capture. Indeed, it was only when several young noblewomen invited to the castle to attend a gynaeceum (finishing school) went missing that the authorities finally took notice.
In December 1610, Čachtice Castle was raided on the orders of King Matthias II. Báthory was seized during a post-Christmas feast – and not, as it was later claimed, in the middle of a murder. Owing to her high station, however, she managed to avoid trial (and inevitable execution) and was instead placed on house arrest in her castle. She died there four years later.
3. LaLaurie Mansion, New Orleans, United States
Sadistic slave-owning socialite Delphine LaLaurie might just be New Orleans’ answer to Countess Báthory. If ever you travel to the city, you will inevitably hear of the notorious madame and her house of horrors. It is a stately three-storey French empire-style townhouse located on Royal Street in the heart of the historic French Quarter, the city’s main tourist district.
On 10 April 1834, the mansion caught fire, attracting a large crowd of curious onlookers. At the time, the LaLaurie Mansion was renowned for its lavish interiors and decadent soirees – as well as for something more sinister.
Rumour had it that the mistress of the manor treated her slaves exceptionally cruelly – which spoke volumes, given that most slave-owners thought nothing of whipping their workers at the time. These rumours would soon prove to be true.
When concerned members of the community entered the house to help extinguish the flames, they made a horrific discovery. According to reports, behind the padlocked door of the attic, they found “seven slaves more or less horribly mutilated… suspended by the neck, with their limbs apparently stretched and torn from one extremity to another”. So shocking was the scene that the once-respected society hostess was run out of town by an angry mob.
Nearly 200 years later, the legend of Madame LaLaurie lives on as one of the darkest chapters in the city’s pre-Civil War history. Though privately owned and publicly inaccessible, the present-day LaLaurie Mansion (rebuilt three years after the fire) still manages to draw hordes of tourists, who come to gawk at its paradoxically elegant exterior.
4. 13 Miller's Court, London, United Kingdom
No list of historical true crime would be complete without an entry on Jack the Ripper, the pseudonymous serial killer responsible for the brutal slayings of at least five women in London's Whitechapel district between August and November 1888.
Easily the most infamous unsolved murders in global history, there’s no shortage of Ripper-related content out there: books, films, TV shows, websites – and even historical walking tours offering the opportunity to follow in the mysterious murderer’s footsteps. Of course, there’s not much for the modern Ripper tourist to see.
The gritty East End streets that comprised the killer’s hunting grounds were long ago transformed as part of a series of early 20th-century improvement projects designed to eradicate the scourge that was the Whitechapel slums. But before this modern uplift, at least a few intrepid explorers were able to visit the crime scenes and view them much as the killer would have done.
On 20 December 1890, The Birmingham Mail published the account of one journalist’s journey through Jack the Ripper’s East London. The highlight of his adventures in so-called ‘Murderland’ was a trip to 13 Miller’s Court – the site of the last (and most ghastly) of the canonical Ripper murders.
It was inside this squalid one room tenement that, just two years earlier, Mary Jane Kelly – a sex worker in her mid-20s – was found mutilated beyond all recognition. According to the journalist, “for a long time after the murder [the room] was vacant. Nobody would take it, owing to the rumour that it was haunted by Jack’s victim”.
But, by the time of the journalist’s visit, it was occupied by “an old crone” and her “bedridden husband” who, for the “drop of half-a-crown” would show visitors the “ghastly relics of the crimes”. These included “a huge crimson stain” on the floor, “the fading imprints of a bloody hand on the wall”, and some pencil scratched graffiti purportedly left behind by the killer.
Such “ghastly relics” were ultimately destroyed when, in 1928, the property was demolished to make way for the rebuilding of Spitalfields Market.
5. 'Murder Castle', Chicago, United States
At around the same time that Jack the Ripper was roving the streets of Victorian London, another pseudonymous serial killer was wreaking havoc across the pond in Chicago. Operating under the alias ‘HH Holmes’, Herman Webster Mudgett was a conman posing as a pharmacist, who, between the years of 1891 and 1894, lured as many as 200 men and women to their deaths.
But where the Ripper seemingly killed for the sheer thrill of it, Holmes had ulterior motives – namely money. Most of his victims were the unwitting targets of insurance schemes and romance scams.
And unlike his British counterpart, who committed all but one of his crimes outdoors, the nefarious ‘Dr Holmes’ preferred the privacy of his own home: 601–603 West 63rd Street, a sprawling three-storey structure, aptly dubbed the ‘Murder Castle’ by the Windy City press.
Having been gutted by fire shortly after his arrest in the autumn of 1894, Holmes’s ‘Murder Castle’ is a bit of an enigma. According to contemporary reports, it possessed a labyrinthine layout, replete with secret passageways, soundproof rooms and a network of chutes and trapdoors purportedly designed for the fast disposal of dead bodies.
But was it purpose-built for murder? The oft-repeated story that Holmes hired new building crews each week to ensure that no single person knew the property’s layout is likely apocryphal. Instead, he was probably attempting to cheat his contractors out of fair pay. Holmes’s astonishingly high body count may too have been exaggerated – he confessed to 27 murders, of which only nine have been confirmed.
6. The Lizzie Borden House, Fall River, Massachusetts, United States
230 Second Street, Fall River, Massachusetts. At first glance, this modest clapboard cottage hardly stands out in a city where the streets are lined with Victorian buildings – many of them far grander than this home. But this is actually Fall River’s most famous landmark: the Lizzie Borden House.
Almost all Americans know of the alleged crimes of the accused axe-murderer Lizzie Borden. Outside of America, however, Lizzie is perhaps less well-known. And yet, most will be familiar with this little ditty:
Lizzie Borden took an axe
Gave her mother forty whacks.
She gave her father forty-one.
Andrew Borden now is dead,
Lizzie hit him on the head.
Up in heaven he will sing,
On the gallows she will swing.
But if all you know of Lizzie is the morbid nursery rhyme, you don’t know much. On the morning of 4 August 1892, Lizzie Borden, the 32-year-old daughter of Andrew Borden, a wealthy yet miserly property developer, allegedly killed her stepmother, Abby, using a hatchet.
Lizzie struck 18 (not 40) blows to Abby’s head in an upstairs bedroom. When her father returned home from work for a mid-morning nap on the parlour sofa, Lizzie killed him with a more conservative 11 whacks as he slept.
- Read more | These are four of the most brutal Victorian murders. Were women really the perpetrators?
The second verse gets it wrong too. Lizzie was acquitted of the murder charges in 1893, thus escaping the gallows. She then lived out the rest of her days in a larger, more luxurious home purchased with her father’s fortune – worth about $9.5 million (£7.5 million) in today’s money.
And if we are to believe the reports of thrill-seeking tourists, Andrew is hardly singing up in heaven. He’s moaning right here on earth, forever stuck in his former home, now known as the Lizzie Borden House, a murder-themed bed and breakfast since 1996. Ghost-hunting guests claim to have encountered Andrew, Abby, their family maid Bridget – and even Lizzie herself – in the house.
7. The Ipatiev House, Yekaterinburg, Russia
The fall of the House of Romanov, the imperial family that ruled Russia from 1613 to 1917, irrevocably shaped the history of their country – and indeed, the world. As anyone with even the faintest recollection of their secondary school history lessons will recall, the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II and subsequent execution of his entire family laid the foundations for the first socialist state in history.
What most of us will be less familiar with is the house that hosted that fall: the Ipatiev House, a fairly unassuming former merchant’s home in the city of Yekaterinburg.
Built in the 1880s for mining industrialist Ivan Redikortsev, the two-storey neoclassical manor would have been perfectly in keeping for a man of Redikortsev’s station, just as it was for subsequent owners: gold-dealer IG Sharaviev and military engineer Nikolai Nikolayevich Ipatiev.
But for a family who had once resided in some of the most resplendent residences in Russia – including the 2.5-million-square-foot Winter Palace in St Petersburg – it was something of a downgrade.
In the spring of 1918, Tsar Nicholas, his wife Tsarina Alexandra, their five children and household staff were moved into the house, where they would spend 78 days confined to just four upper-storey rooms.
Under the watchful eye of Bolshevik guards, the prisoners were occasionally permitted time outdoors – though the house’s modest grounds with their oppressively high fences would have paled in comparison to the Tsarina’s private garden at the Winter Palace.
Finally, on 17 July, the family was ordered to the Ipatiev’s basement where they were executed by firing squad. Meanwhile, the house itself wouldn’t fall until 1977 when it was demolished under the orders of the Soviet government. Following the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, the Church on the Blood was erected on its site, with a cross marking the exact location of the Romanov murders.
8. Sowden House, Los Angeles, United States
Like many old Hollywood mansions, Sowden House is steeped in a long and colourful history. Constructed in 1926 for its namesake, artist John Sowden, for nearly a century the property has played host to lavish parties, film crews and fashion shoots. It’s featured in Oscar-winning films like LA Confidential and The Aviator, and reality TV programmes like America’s Next Top Model.
But did it also bear witness to one of the most notorious unsolved murders in American history? On the night of 14 January 1947, did the enigmatic ‘Black Dahlia’ take her final breath in the bowels of this 5,600-square-foot fortress of luxury? Maybe…
Located in Los Feliz, a hillside community east of Hollywood, Sowden House is one of countless mansions in this upscale district. Yet, even in a sea of swanky properties, it sticks out – partly owing to its unusual appearance.
Composed of giant concrete blocks configurated and carved in designs meant to mimic an ancient Maya step pyramid, the house is perhaps the most iconic example of the Mayan Revival Movement of the early 20th century. It is widely regarded as the pinnacle of achievement for architect Lloyd Wright (not to be confused with his more famous father, Frank Lloyd Wright).
Surprisingly, however, none of these things are what Sowden is best known for. Its main claim to fame is for being the former home of one Dr George Hodel, a prominent LA physician and prime suspect in the 1947 slaying of Elizabeth Short – a 22-year-old budding starlet (christened the ‘Black Dahlia’ in the press on account of her raven hair), whose mutilated and dismembered body was found in a vacant lot, six and a half miles south of Sowden House.
Aside from his surgical skill and supposed sadomasochistic interests, there’s actually very little to connect Hodel to the crime. Still, legions of armchair detectives are convinced of his guilt. His own son, Steve Hoddel – a 30-year veteran of the Los Angeles Police Department – is adamant that the Dahlia’s dismemberment took place in the basement of his childhood home.
Caitlin Blackwell Baines is an art historian and author who specialises in Georgian art and architecture. She is the author of How to Build a Haunted House: The History of a Cultural Obsession (Profile Books, 2025)

Facts Only

Canterbury Cathedral in Kent, UK, was the site of Archbishop Thomas Becket's murder on 29 December 1170 by four knights loyal to King Henry II.
Čachtice Castle in Slovakia was owned by Countess Elizabeth Báthory, who is accused of torturing and killing up to 600 young women between the late 16th and early 17th centuries.
The LaLaurie Mansion in New Orleans, USA, was where Delphine LaLaurie was discovered to have brutally abused and mutilated her slaves in 1834.
13 Miller's Court in London, UK, was the location of Mary Jane Kelly's murder by Jack the Ripper on 9 November 1888.
HH Holmes' "Murder Castle" in Chicago, USA, was a three-story building where he allegedly killed up to 200 people between 1891 and 1894.
The Lizzie Borden House in Fall River, Massachusetts, USA, was where Andrew and Abby Borden were murdered with an axe on 4 August 1892.
The Ipatiev House in Yekaterinburg, Russia, was where Tsar Nicholas II and his family were executed by Bolshevik guards on 17 July 1918.
Sowden House in Los Angeles, USA, is linked to the 1947 murder of Elizabeth Short, the "Black Dahlia," due to its former owner, Dr. George Hodel, being a prime suspect.
Elizabeth Báthory was placed under house arrest in 1610 and died in 1614 without facing trial.
Lizzie Borden was acquitted of the murders in 1893 and lived the rest of her life in a larger home.
The Ipatiev House was demolished in 1977, and the Church on the Blood was later built on the site.
The Lizzie Borden House has operated as a bed and breakfast since 1996, attracting tourists interested in its haunted reputation.

Executive Summary

This article explores some of history's most infamous crime scenes, detailing the events that unfolded within them and their lasting cultural impact. From Canterbury Cathedral, where Archbishop Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170, to Čachtice Castle, the home of Countess Elizabeth Báthory, who allegedly tortured and killed hundreds of young women, these locations have become macabre tourist attractions. Other sites include the LaLaurie Mansion in New Orleans, where Delphine LaLaurie brutally abused her slaves, and the "Murder Castle" in Chicago, where HH Holmes lured and killed numerous victims. The article also covers the Lizzie Borden House, the Ipatiev House in Russia where the Romanov family was executed, and Sowden House in Los Angeles, linked to the unsolved Black Dahlia murder. Each location is tied to violent crimes that have left a lasting mark on history, often blending fact with legend.
The piece highlights how these sites continue to fascinate the public, drawing tourists and inspiring countless retellings in books, films, and folklore. While some details remain disputed—such as the exact number of Báthory's victims or the true extent of Holmes' crimes—the article presents the most widely accepted accounts. It also notes how some locations, like the Lizzie Borden House, have been repurposed into commercial ventures, capitalizing on their dark histories. The narrative underscores the enduring human fascination with violence, power, and the unknown, as well as the ways in which these stories are preserved and mythologized over time.

Full Take

The strongest version of this narrative is its exploration of how violence and power intersect with human fascination, transforming crime scenes into cultural landmarks. The article effectively highlights the enduring allure of these locations, blending historical fact with myth to create a compelling account of infamy. It acknowledges uncertainties—such as the exact number of Báthory's victims or the true extent of Holmes' crimes—while still presenting a coherent narrative of each site's significance. The piece also subtly critiques how these histories are commodified, as seen in the Lizzie Borden House's conversion into a tourist attraction, raising questions about the ethics of profiting from tragedy.
Patterns detected: none
The root cause of this narrative is the human tendency to mythologize violence, particularly when it involves power, mystery, or the macabre. The article assumes that readers are drawn to these stories for their shock value and historical weight, but it doesn't deeply interrogate why certain crimes become legendary while others fade into obscurity. This echoes a broader cultural pattern of sensationalizing violence, often at the expense of the victims' dignity. The implications for human agency are mixed: while these stories can serve as cautionary tales, they also risk reducing complex histories to mere spectacle. The commercialization of these sites, as seen in the Lizzie Borden House, raises questions about who benefits—often entrepreneurs and tourists—while the victims' memories are commodified.
Bridge questions: What ethical responsibilities do we have when consuming or profiting from stories of violence? How does the mythologizing of these crimes affect our understanding of the victims? What perspectives—such as those of the victims' descendants or marginalized communities—are missing from these narratives?
Counterstrike scan: If this were part of a coordinated influence campaign, the playbook might involve sensationalizing violence to desensitize audiences or normalize exploitation for profit. However, the article does not match this pattern. It presents historical accounts without overt manipulation, though it could benefit from deeper critical analysis of the ethical implications of its subject matter.

Sentinel — Human

Confidence

The article exhibits strong human authorship signals, with a distinct voice, varied structure, and contextual depth inconsistent with AI generation.

Signals Detected
low severity: Varied sentence length and idiosyncratic phrasing (e.g., 'a revolving door of peasant girls') suggest human authorship.
low severity: Strong narrative voice with occasional digressions (e.g., clarifying Lizzie Borden's nursery rhyme inaccuracies) and stylistic flair.
low severity: No repetitive talking points or template-matching; each crime scene is described with unique contextual details.
low severity: Specific attributions (e.g., 'The Birmingham Mail published the account') and nuanced historical caveats (e.g., 'likely apocryphal').
Human Indicators
Author's byline and expertise (art historian specializing in Georgian architecture) align with the content's focus on historical sites.
Idiosyncratic emphasis (e.g., debunking myths like Báthory's blood baths) and playful tone ('ghastly relics').
Organic transitions between macabre details and architectural/historical context.
History's most notorious crime scenes: from Lizzie Borden's lair to HH Holmes's 'murder castle' — Arc Codex