It stands there. Quiet.
If you drove past 112 Ocean Avenue right now, you might actually miss it. The famous "eye" windows—those iconic, quarter-moon attic openings that looked like demonic peepers in the movies—are long gone. They were replaced years ago by standard square windows to deter the looky-loos. The house is a different color now. The address has even been legally changed to 108 Ocean Avenue to throw off GPS-dependent ghost hunters. But despite the new siding and the lack of creepy architecture, the Amityville horror house today remains the most famous piece of real estate in American paranormal history.
It’s just a house. A big, Dutch Colonial in a sleepy Long Island suburb. Yet, for fifty years, it has been a lightning rod for lawsuits, hoaxes, and genuine tragedy.
You’ve probably heard the stories. The Lutz family fled in 1975 after just 28 days, claiming walls bled green slime and invisible entities pushed them out of bed. Before them, Ronald DeFeo Jr. murdered his entire family in their sleep. That part is the grim, undisputed truth. The rest? Well, that’s where things get complicated. People still argue about it in Reddit threads and bars in Amityville. Honestly, the real story of what’s happening with the property right now is almost as strange as the legend itself because it involves high-stakes real estate and a neighborhood that just wants everyone to go away.
The Reality of 112 Ocean Avenue in the 2020s
Walking through Amityville isn't like a horror movie. It’s a wealthy, nautical village. The neighbors? They’re over it. They’ve been over it since 1977.
When you look at the Amityville horror house today, you’re looking at a private residence that has cycled through several owners since George and Kathy Lutz packed their bags. Interestingly, none of the subsequent owners have reported anything remotely spooky. No ghosts. No slime. No demonic pigs named Jodie. James and Barbara Cromarty, who bought the place after the Lutzes, lived there for a decade and famously sued the Lutzes and their book publisher for "fraud, mental anguish, and invasion of privacy." They just wanted to eat dinner without a tourist peering through the breakfast nook window.
The house sold again in 2017 for about $605,000. That’s actually a bit of a "haunted house discount" considering the waterfront location and the size of the lot. In the current market, a house of that caliber in that zip code would typically command a much higher premium, but the "Amityville tax" is real. You aren't just buying a boat house and five bedrooms; you’re buying a permanent spot on every "Top 10 Most Haunted Places" list on the internet.
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Who Lives There Now?
The current owners keep a very low profile. You won't find them doing interviews on the Travel Channel. They’ve reinforced the fencing. They’ve leaned into the "108 Ocean Avenue" rebrand. Essentially, they are stewards of a historical landmark that they wish wasn't a landmark.
The village of Amityville has also tightened up parking rules on the street. If you try to pull over and snap a selfie, don't be surprised if a local police cruiser rolls by within minutes. They’ve turned the street into a fortress of suburban privacy. It’s a weird tension. The town benefits from the fame in a vague, "people know our name" sort of way, but they absolutely loathe the cult following.
The DeFeo Legacy: The Only True Horror
We have to talk about the murders because that’s the foundation of everything. On November 13, 1974, Ronald "Butch" DeFeo Jr. used a .35-caliber Marlin lever-action rifle to kill his parents and four siblings.
The weirdest detail? All six victims were found face-down in their beds. No signs of a struggle. No sedative in their systems. Neighbors didn't hear the shots, even though the rifle didn't have a silencer. This factual, grisly mystery is what gave the subsequent "haunting" such a foothold in the public imagination. If something that horrific could happen without anyone hearing a sound, then surely the house itself must be evil, right?
Butch DeFeo died in custody in 2021 at the Sullivan Correctional Facility. With his death, a lot of the conspiracy theories about "accomplices" or "demonic voices" telling him to kill died too. Or at least, they should have. But the Amityville horror house today is more of a brand than a location. The "horror" has been licensed out to dozens of low-budget movies that have nothing to do with the actual house or the DeFeo family. It’s become a trope.
Why the "Hoax" Label Won't Stick
William Weber, Butch DeFeo’s defense attorney, eventually admitted that he and the Lutzes "created this horror story over many bottles of wine." They needed a way to make the DeFeo case look like a case of demonic possession for a potential insanity plea, and the Lutzes needed a way out of a mortgage they couldn't afford.
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Basically, it was a business arrangement.
Yet, George Lutz maintained until his death in 2006 that while some things were "sensationalized" for the book, the core of the haunting was real. This ambiguity is why the house is still a focal point. You have the "Skeptics" who point to the Weber confession, and the "Believers" who point to the fact that the Lutzes never changed their story, even when it cost them their reputations.
The Architectural Evolution
It's fascinating how much a building can change. When the house was built in 1927, it was the height of colonial style.
- The gambrel roof was a classic choice for the era.
- The boathouse was a luxury addition for the Great South Bay.
- The "eye" windows were actually just a design quirk common in Dutch Colonials.
Today, the house looks like any other renovated home in a high-end New York suburb. The gray siding and updated landscaping have stripped away the "spooky mansion" aesthetic. If you saw a photo of it without knowing the history, you’d think "Oh, that’s a nice place for a summer barbecue." This disconnect between the mundane reality and the terrifying legend is exactly what keeps the SEO interest in the Amityville horror house today so high. We want to believe that evil looks like a monster, but in Amityville, it just looks like a well-manicured lawn.
The Legal Nightmare of Owning a Famous House
If you're thinking about buying a famous "horror" house, honestly, think again. The legal precedents set by the Amityville house are used in real estate law classes today.
There is a concept called "stigmatized property." In many states, you don't legally have to disclose if a house is "haunted," but you do often have to disclose if a famous murder happened there. The Amityville house is the gold standard for a stigmatized property. Every time it goes on the market, it becomes a media circus. The sellers have to vet buyers to make sure they aren't just "ghost hunters" trying to get a free tour of the basement.
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What to Do If You Visit (Respectfully)
Look, people are going to go. If you decide to take the pilgrimage to see the Amityville horror house today, there are some hard rules you need to follow if you don't want to end up in the back of a squad car or, worse, being yelled at by a very frustrated homeowner.
- Keep Driving. Do not park. Do not idle. The street is narrow, and the neighbors have zero patience for tourists blocking their driveways.
- No Trespassing. This should be obvious, but the fence is there for a reason. There are cameras everywhere.
- Respect the Dead. Remember that six real people died in that house. It’s not just a movie set. It’s a site of a family tragedy.
- Visit the Village, Not Just the House. Amityville is actually a beautiful town. Go to the local shops. Eat at the restaurants. Support the community that has to put up with the "horror" label 365 days a year.
The real "horror" for the people living there isn't ghosts; it's the 2:00 AM flash photography from strangers on their sidewalk.
Final Insights on the Legend
The Amityville horror house today is a symbol of how we process trauma through folklore. We took a horrific crime—a son killing his family—and we wrapped it in a ghost story because ghosts are somehow easier to deal with than the reality of human violence.
The house is currently a beautiful, private home. It has been loved and lived in by several families since the 70s. It has survived hurricanes, renovations, and the relentless glare of the spotlight. It's a survivor. If you're looking for the supernatural, you're better off looking in the library or the cinema. On Ocean Avenue, you'll find nothing but a quiet street and the sound of the bay.
To really understand the impact of the property, you should look into the history of the Long Island real estate boom of the 1920s. It puts the "grandeur" of the house into perspective. Also, check out the local Amityville Historical Society; they have records that ground the legend in actual local history, far away from the Hollywood glitz. If you're a homeowner or a buyer, use the Amityville story as a case study in "Property Stigma"—it’s a fascinating look at how public perception can fluctuate the value of an asset by hundreds of thousands of dollars regardless of the actual physical condition of the building.