I thought I’d recycle this story since it’s almost Halloween—and honestly, it still gives me chills every time I think about it.
It was the late ’90s, back when fax machines were screaming in the background, pagers were clipped to our belts, and buyers actually rode along in the car to look at homes. I was showing properties in one of northwest Oklahoma City’s historic neighborhoods—tree-lined streets, big porches, and old houses full of charm and stories. One of my buyers fell in love with a two-story home that seemed perfect. It had the right look, the right price, and that classic character people love about older homes. We made an offer, inspections went smoothly, everything checked out, and we closed without a single issue.
A few weeks later, my phone rang. It was my buyer, and she sounded nervous. “Wyatt,” she said, “the upstairs bathroom faucet is leaking.” I said, “Leaking? Like a drip?” She hesitated. “No… it’s not leaking—it’s just turning on by itself. Full blast.”
Now, I’ve heard a lot of strange calls from homeowners—mysterious noises, odd smells, cracks that “weren’t there yesterday”—but a self-aware faucet? That was new. I tried to make sense of it, but before I could, she added, “And the light in that same bathroom keeps turning on too.”
So, I did what any good Realtor would do. I called a plumber and an electrician. Both went out and checked the house top to bottom. The report came back the same both times—no problems. Perfectly functional. But the faucet and light kept doing their thing.
A few days later, the buyer called again, more uneasy this time. “Do you think… it could be a ghost?” she asked.
Now, I’ve handled some interesting closings in my career, but I’ve never had to bring in a priest. I tried to keep it professional, but I didn’t have a section in my contract for “paranormal clause.” So I told her, “I don’t really know how to address that one, but I’ll make a few calls.”
I decided to call the listing agent. I figured maybe there was some backstory, some weird electrical issue, anything that could explain what was happening. I asked as casually as I could, “Hey, do you happen to know if anything… unusual ever happened in that upstairs bathroom?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. A long silence. The kind where you can hear your own heartbeat. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “Yes. There was a murder in that house. Someone was forcibly drowned in that bathroom.”
I’ll never forget how cold that moment felt. I asked her, “Don’t you think that’s something that should’ve been disclosed?” And she calmly replied, “Not unless you asked.”
I was furious. In real estate, we call that a ‘psychologically impacted property.’ It means that while the home is physically fine, something emotionally or historically disturbing happened there—a death, a crime, sometimes even a haunting. In Oklahoma, sellers aren’t legally required to disclose that unless the buyer specifically asks in writing. And let me tell you—if I’d had even the slightest hint before closing that something strange had ever happened in that house, I absolutely would have asked in writing.
When I told the buyer, she was devastated. She moved out soon after. The house eventually resold, and from what I’ve heard, that upstairs bathroom still has its moments. The faucet turns on from time to time, and the light flickers just before it does. The plumber insists it’s air pressure. Locals say it’s something else.
To this day, I still think about that home every Halloween. It’s a good reminder that every property has a story—and some stories stay behind long after the closing papers are signed.
So if you’re ever buying a historic home and you get a strange feeling… trust it. Ask the right questions. Because you can fix a leaky faucet, but you can’t fix a haunted one.
Wyatt Poindexter
Luxury Realtor - Managing Partner | The Agency Oklahoma
405-417-5466 | [email protected]
www.WyattPoindexter.com | www.TheAgencyRE.com
