Do you believe that after something horrendous has happened in a location, that negative energy can linger and “haunt” a place? I know that I always have, and I think that on a recent visit to New Orleans I got my fair share of confirmation. Please note that while I am writing this account in the style of an author, that every piece of this experience is true. I will link to locations, businesses, and, pages of some of the people involved.
There was something in that apartment on Rampart Street. It wasn’t bad, but I can say that it’s had an impact on my life since I visited. Take a walk on the dark side with me and find out why I will now always respect something that is known to have a dark past behind it.
The Tragedy of Zack and Addie
Growing up in San Diego, CA, where ghost stories were everywhere, you would think that I would have been a full-on believer. While I wasn’t a denier, I’ve always felt that there was something beyond the realm we dwell in. Hence, my obsession with horror, ghost stories, and murder podcasts.
The Thursday before my wife and I left for a weekend getaway with friends to New Orleans, LA, I was listening to my favorite paranormal/murder podcast, “And That’s Why We Drink.” The episode I was on revolved around the story of Zack Bowen and Addie Hall.
These two were survivors of the deadly Hurricane Katrina in 2005. Zack was ex-military and suffered from PTSD, Addie was his girlfriend who had a raging temper, and, according to local guides, used to abuse Zack. Eventually, the FEMA checks for NOLA began to roll in and Addie invested in an apartment on Rampart Street. The place was a small, three-room apartment located on the second floor of the famous Voodoo Spiritual Temple.
Shortly after moving in the couple had a heated argument and Zack snapped. He strangled Addie to death in the tub. Over the next ten days, he proceeded to cut Addie’s body up into pieces, placing them in the stove and refrigerator of the apartment. He then went to the Omni Hotel not far from Rampart St. It was here that he blew all of his money on alcohol and then jumped from the top of the hotel, killing himself on impact when he landed on top of the parking garage. In his pocket was a note detailing the guilt that he felt about the murder and where police would find her body.
Upon walking into the apartment, police found Addie’s head boiling in a pot on the stove, her legs in the oven, and the rest of her in the fridge. While there is no evidence of actual cannibalism occurring, the body parts were seasoned, and an assortment of onions and peppers were found chopped up on the counter.
‘Smarketing’ or Something Else..?
I coined the term ‘smarketing’ based on the way that our smartphones tend to hone in on our current activities and try to sell us on items or ideas that we have been talking about or exploring online.
Directly after listening to this podcast, I was shopping for Groupons on my work computer (sorry, Curt!) that I could use for our trip. After purchasing a ghost tour ticket, Groupon was like, “Hey! Check out Bloody Mary’s Haunted Museum.” At the words haunted museum, I was sold. I bought two tickets without thought, then went online to check reviews. It was then that I realized that this haunted museum was located on the bottom floor of Zack and Addie’s apartment, and the tour actually goes into the location where Addie Hall met her unfortunate end that day in 2006.
Was my phone listening in on my podcast? If so, how did it get such information on my work computer? (INSERT FIRST ODDITY).
At the ‘Rampart Murder House’
We got to New Orleans and after a delicious lunch made our way to our scheduled haunted museum visit. Upon entry to the actual building, there was nothing felt. Nothing seemed off, it was just a building with very interesting artifacts in it. I even purchased an Ouija board and very excellent book from the shop.
Our guide was cordial and very informative. We were told the history of the actual grounds and about some of the other spirits that frequent the location. Still felt normal. Before I knew it, we were being led through a side door up the stairs into what could only be THE apartment.
The SECOND I walked into the apartment I had an immense feeling of sadness mixed with dread. I found myself nervously pacing around the living room of the apartment, making my way to the back room where they slept, but avoiding the hell out of the kitchen and bath areas.
However, entering these areas was part of the tour, so when the time came, I gathered my courage and entered. The stove looked old and decrepit, and our guide stated that the apartment had continued to be rented out after the events….original appliances included.
The stove and fridge both contained offerings left by previous visitors to help put the spirits at ease. Our guide said their preference was alcohol and cigarettes.
After passing under the kitchen’s doorframe I had an instant feeling that something was pushing hard on my chest. Dizziness began to set in and I found myself lightly grazing the cold oven where Addie was left to be found.
The bathroom where the murdered happened had an even heavier feeling. So strong, that I was only able to step in, take a photo then leave because I was overwhelmed with emotion and a sick feeling that was creeping up my gut.
The tour ended shortly after, and I think it’s safe to say that things were a little odd from there on out.
Sleepless Nights and Calls From Nowhere
The first night after the visit, I had a horrible time trying to get to sleep. Once I finally did, I woke up sitting on the edge of our hotel room bed. Now, in the past, I had the tendency to sleepwalk, but haven’t done it since I moved into our home after marriage three years ago.
Flashforward to the next morning. My wife and I went on a swamp tour and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I highly recommend doing this if you’re ever in the area. On the way back, we were listening to an audiobook on my phone through the car stereo. Suddenly, my Dad’s voice came over the radio on a call. The conversation went like so:
D: Hey….what’s up?
R: Not much just driving back to the hotel.
D: Well….ok, cool. I’m out shopping so have fun!
He then sent over a text joking about how I just called him to say we were driving back from the swamp tour. I hadn’t called him. My wife, who is a skeptic, was even a bit weirded out by this but convinced me it was a coincidence.
We met up with our group of friends and two of them asked why I repeatedly kept calling them at odd hours the night before and throughout the morning. They said they would answer to nothing and eventually just hang up. My first thought was that they were all just fucking with me to creep me out after the Dad story was told, but no. I was wrong.
While we were eating at Cafe Du Monde, I was happily sipping a coffee and playing with an app on my phone when my friend Audrey asked, “Why are you calling me?” I looked up and sure enough, my picture was flashing, but my phone itself was not calling. She rejected the call.
I later received a call from a local number that was pure radio static. This only occurred once, but my phone continued to call random people I knew throughout the day.
On the ghost tour we went on, we were taken to the site where Zack committed suicide. Our tour guide personally knew the couple, so she was very interested in what I had to say about my experiences. She said I should take a picture of the building. I did and caught what appeared to be an orb of some sort floating between the building and the parking garage where he landed.
Go forward a few days and I’m back in Fort Worth, TX where I live. My phone has now settled down but there is still a lingering feeling that persists. I take a train to work every morning and on the first day back I was running late. Of course, I sat next to an evangelist who was screaming about how “We all deserve to die in a mass shooting,” and “You are ALL going to hell.” This type of talk didn’t bother me, but his passing words to me did. As I walked past him to exit the train he slowly looked up, looked me dead in the eye and said, “Have a blessed day in hell. You and your friend on your back..”
Maybe I shouldn’t have touched the stove.
What are YOUR Stories?
At Metroplague, I strive to create a community of people that are willing to share their thoughts and opinions. Let me know what you think happened, even if you have a scientific reason behind it! I also want to hear your stories from the other side! Until next post!