The Lizzie Borden House could be a sweet little bed and breakfast if you didn’t think too hard about the murders. But with photos of the victims and hatchet iconography plastered throughout the Greek Revival–style 1845 build, it’s impossible not to. And what else would bring you to this particular six-bedroom residence in Fall River, Massachusetts?
I recently ventured from NYC to the real-life dwelling where 32-year-old Lizzie Borden may or may not have butchered her father and stepmother, Andrew and Abby Borden, the morning of August 4, 1892. My morbid curiosity was piqued by the news that the scandal would be receiving the Ryan Murphy treatment as the latest installment of the superproducer’s watch-through-your-fingers anthology series Monster. (Previous seasons explored the crimes of Jeffrey Dahmer, the Menendez brothers, and Ed Gein.)
Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story premieres today on Netflix, and though it kicks off a new cycle of Borden buzz, Murphy is by no means the first to take a whack at adapting the story. In the 130 years since the incident, there have been movies, operas, plays, ballets, Halloween costumes, and a macabre nursery rhyme about Lizzie and the case.
Our enduring fascination with the killings has transformed the true crime into something more like a campfire tale, with Lizzie cast as a folk villain. But buried underneath all of these retellings is the real story: Andrew and Abby were bludgeoned to death with a hatchet inside their home and their daughter Lizzie stood trial for murder in the first degree. And today, the house where it happened operates as a museum and an inn welcoming guests for tours, overnight stays, and breakfast.
The place is owned and run by US Ghost Adventures, which operates spooky tours and bar crawls in more than 200 cities nationwide and offers stays at five homes with haunted histories. The company’s founder, Lance Zaal, plucked the Borden home off the market in 2021 for approximately $1.9 million. It had been operating as a house museum since 1996. Prior to that, it was privately owned for decades; the Borden sisters parted ways with the three-story dwelling shortly after Lizzie was, famously, acquitted.
Did she do it? An all-male jury of 19th-century Bay Staters could not conceive of the small spinster carrying out such a violent act. But generally, and in most pop cultural depictions, it remains widely believed that Lizzie killed her parents. Legally speaking, the double-murder is unsolved to this day, which is certainly part of the intrigue for guests at the house.
Zaal finds that those who enjoy his paranormal activities fit into one of two camps: history lovers and thrill-seekers. He puts himself in the former, pointing out some of the work he’s spearheaded in his time as owner of the residence, from restoring the 19th-century fence to conducting a paint analysis of the home’s original colors to coat it in its apparent Borden-era muted army green.
While he embraces any tourist who wants to engage with his ghost adventures, there’s a sensationalization around stories like the Bordens’ that can feel morally borderline at best. It’s a delicate dance: “Groups would rent the house out and do seances, and I’m really trying to have us…” Zaal trails off. “In the beginning, I really tried to control our perception. A lot of people think that me or my company, just because we’re called US Ghost Adventures, that we’re all about just the ghosts, but our focus is on history. We’re trying to also make history fun and interesting. You have to strike a balance with places with difficult history,” Zaal says. “At the end of the day, it’s all about serving the customer. First, it’s about the integrity of the story, and preserving the property, and then it’s about making sure that the people learn something, and that they enjoy their time.”
Of course, it’s still a business. For the low, low price of $30, the staff will add an ax or a doll to your pillow to create a little atmosphere—and if you want to set a different kind of mood, there’s always the romance package, complete with flower petals. While it might not be everyone’s idea of the perfect night away, clearly something in the team’s approach is working. “We see people coming [back for] their third time at the house, even fifth time. We have people who are lifelong Lizzie Borden fans,” Zaal says. The house’s gift shop, with its “I survived” T shirts, caters to that enthusiastic niche.
230 Second Street, Fall River, Massachusetts
I arrive at the house shortly before the afternoon tour begins. Our guide promises to treat everybody “better than family.” She takes us into the sitting room, where Andrew was found dead on the sofa. An Andrew-shaped mannequin—cloth draped respectfully over him—slumps on the replica couch. The footprint of the home, with its steep and narrow stairways, remains much like it was when the Bordens lived there, though it’s gotten some necessary updates for modern hosting: The kitchen’s vibe is more early millennium (2000s, that is) with fire department–approved appliances to whip up breakfast for guests. No, our guide points out, that is not Lizzie’s espresso machine.
Several spaces, including Andrew’s office, have been converted to bathrooms. Although he was a successful businessman who owned multiple properties, the Borden patriarch was notoriously frugal—so much so that he forewent plumbing despite its availability at the time. Finances were allegedly a point of contention between Andrew and his daughter, who longed to live in a more monied part of town, up on “the hill.” It remains widely speculated that Lizzie’s motive for murder was the relative fortune she stood to inherit upon the deaths of both her wealthy father and his wife of 27 years.
The family’s bedrooms are on the second floor. The John Morse room, where Abby died (and where I’ll be spending the night), comes first. It’s named thusly for Lizzie’s maternal uncle, who was staying at the house the night before the slaughters. Per our tour guide, it stands to reason that Abby was making up the room following his stay there when she was knocked flat by the hatchet wielder. If it’s not unnerving enough to spend the night here, don’t worry! Both an Abby mannequin and a framed crime scene photo of her dead body in that exact spot are prominently displayed.
Whether or not you believe the Sunday school teacher was responsible for patricide and (step-)matricide, somebody committed a brutal, broad daylight double killing that morning in Fall River. No one apart from Lizzie and the family’s maid Bridget were on the property at the time, and neither testified to having witnessed the killer. If the floral papered walls of the Lizzie Borden House could talk, we’d put the century-old mystery to bed. Instead, we ask the ghosts. On a tour meant for serious specter hunters and offered late at night, guests at the house can do just that. Abby’s spirit could not be reached for comment during my night in the room where she was given not 40 (as the nursery rhyme says) but closer to 19 whacks, though I did not make a sincere effort to summon her. Dousing rods, spirit boxes, and other ghost hunting equipment are available for checkout, though Ouija boards were prohibited after an incident. I’m told by a staff member that the house’s 1920s-era board was stolen and eventually returned with a note pleading to “make it stop.”
The hatchet-themed signage, the ax-on-pillow add-ons, and some truly goofy gift shop souvenirs can make you roll your eyes, but it’s really nothing new. The case was sensationalized even at the time of the killings, with scores of people descending upon the property before the crime scene could be officially closed down and the trial turning into a media circus. The Ryan Murphyfication of the story is just the latest in over a century of Borden melodrama.
Regardless of how the veneer of hype softens a genuinely heinous crime, despite the swapped-out wallpaper and the replica furnishings, the house still has the same bones. The basement ceiling directly beneath the room where Andrew was killed is stained, all these years later, with visible traces of… something. Our tour guide says blood. Before I get into bed, when the house is silent, my mind drifts down two stories to those stains. I consider the spot right beside my bed and what happened there. I step around.