In the heart of Downtown Los Angeles stands a 14‑story building whose history mirrors the city’s own swings between glamour and decay. Opening in December 1924, the Cecil Hotel was designed by architect Loy Lester Smith and cost around US $1.5 million to build. Its marble‑lined lobby and stained‑glass windows made it a fashionable stop for business travelers and tourists. But within a decade, the Great Depression hit, and the hotel never fully recovered. It gradually declined into a single‑room occupancy hotel in Skid Row, became infamous for suicides and violent incidents, and by the twenty‑first century was known less for hospitality than for haunting stories. The most disturbing of those stories occurred in early 2013 when Elisa Lam, a 21‑year‑old Canadian tourist, vanished and was later found dead in one of the hotel’s rooftop water tanks. Her death sparked widespread speculation and internet sleuthing, transforming the Cecil from a seedy downtown building into a global true‑crime obsession.
This article explores the intertwined histories of the Cecil Hotel and Elisa Lam’s disappearance. Using contemporary reports, official records and up‑to‑date sources from 2024–2025, it reconstructs the hotel’s origins and its dark reputation, the circumstances surrounding Lam’s trip and final days, the investigation and theories that followed, and the building’s latest chapter as an affordable‑housing project now up for sale. The goal is to balance accurate chronology with sensitivity toward the real people involved and to place the tragedy in the broader context of mental health, homelessness and urban redevelopment.
A Landmark in Decline: From Art Déco Marvel to Skid Row SRO
When it opened on December 20 1924, the Cecil Hotel boasted 700 guest rooms, two elevators supplied by the Otis Elevator Company and an opulent Beaux Arts lobby. Built by hoteliers William Banks Hanner, Charles L. Dix and Robert H. Schops, the developers reportedly invested about US $2.5 million to create a destination for business travelers and tourists. Yet the timing was unfortunate. Within five years the stock market crashed; the surrounding neighborhood near Skid Row became increasingly populated with homeless and transient residents, and the Cecil never regained its early prestige. By the 1940s and 1950s the hotel had acquired a grim nickname – “The Suicide” – after multiple guests took their own lives.
The violence wasn’t limited to suicides. In 1964, a longtime resident named Pigeon Goldie Osgood was found raped, stabbed and beaten in her room; her murder remains unsolved. During the 1980s two serial killers lived in the building: Richard Ramirez, known as the Night Stalker, who reportedly murdered fourteen people while staying at the Cecil, and Austrian killer Jack Unterweger, who strangled three sex workers in 1991. Such associations cemented the hotel’s reputation as a place of darkness.
Despite these notorieties, the property changed hands multiple times and underwent occasional refurbishments. A partial rebranding in 2011 created a separate hostel called “Stay on Main,” though the original “Hotel Cecil” signs remained. In 2014 New York hotelier Richard Born purchased the building for US $30 million, and Simon Baron Development acquired a 99‑year ground lease. Renovations began in 2017 but were halted by the COVID‑19 pandemic. On December 13 2021, the building reopened as a 600‑unit affordable‑housing complex operated by the Skid Row Housing Trust. A 2023 Los Angeles Times report described black mold, vermin, leaks, and unsanitary communal facilities within the reopened building. In March 2024 the owners listed the property for sale, offering the 99‑year lease rather than the land itself; the building and land were assessed at around US $31 million in 2023. The sale highlighted ongoing challenges: although the building had been revamped to house formerly homeless Angelenos, occupancy was only about 60 percent, and many units remained vacant due to poor maintenance and shared bathrooms. Non‑profit service providers expressed hope that a new owner would invest more resources to utilize the building for low‑income residents fully.
Elisa Lam: Background and Mental‑Health Challenges
Elisa Lam (Chinese name: 藍可兒) was born on April 30, 1991, in Vancouver, British Columbia. The daughter of immigrants from Hong Kong, she attended the University of British Columbia, though she was not registered at the beginning of 2013. Lam struggled with mental illness. According to police and family statements, she had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression and was prescribed multiple medications, including bupropion, lamotrigine, quetiapine, dextroamphetamine and venlafaxine. She kept a blog on Blogspot and later Tumbl,r where she candidly discussed relapses, feelings of directionlessness, and the fear of wasting her life. Her family said she had no history of suicide attempts but sometimes failed to take her medication, leading to hallucinations and panic episodes. Those episodes caused her to hide under her bed and once required hospitalization.
In January 2013 Lam set off alone on a trip to California, traveling by Amtrak and intercity bus. After visiting San Diego and posting photos of the zoo, she arrived in Los Angeles on January 26 and checked into the Cecil Hotel, then known as Stay on Main. Initially she shared a room on the fifth floor with other young women. The hotel’s lawyer later said Lam exhibited “odd behavior” such as leaving notes saying “go home” and locking her roommates out. The roommates complained, and staff moved Lam to a private room after two nights. The hotel manager, Amy Price, later said Lam had been disruptive, leaving notes on guests’ beds telling them to “go away” and scaring other visitors.
During her stay Lam explored the city. On January 29 she attended a taping of a late‑night television show but was escorted out by security for erratic behavior. On January 31 she visited The Last Bookstore, a shop near the hotel, where manager Katie Orphan remembered her as lively and friendly, choosing books as gifts for family. That afternoon hotel employees saw her wandering the lobby and yelling “I’m crazy but so is LA!”. She later wandered into an area restricted to staff and was asked to leave. That evening she was captured on surveillance footage inside an elevator. The footage would soon catapult the case to international attention.
Disappearance and the Infamous Elevator Video
Lam’s parents grew concerned when she failed to call them on January 31 and contacted the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) on February 1. Her family soon flew to California to assist with the search. Police searched Lam’s room and hotel common areas with dogs but found no trace. Because there was no probable cause of a crime, officers could not search every room in the building. Flyers with Lam’s photo were posted around the neighborhood and online, drawing increasing public attention.
On February 13, the LAPD released a two‑and‑a‑half‑minute surveillance clip from the elevator on the night of January 31. The video shows Lam entering the elevator and pressing multiple floor buttons, peering into the hallway, stepping in and out, hiding in a corner, and waving her arms. At one point she steps into the hallway and appears to talk to someone unseen; she gestures and returns before eventually leaving the elevator, which soon resumes regular operation. The video went viral, amassing millions of views on YouTube and the Chinese site Youku within days. Viewers deemed her movements unsettling, fueling wild theories. Some speculated she was hiding from a pursuer or playing a supernatural “elevator game.” Others claimed the timestamp had been edited or footage removed to conceal another person. Conspiracy theories ranged from demonic possession to government cover‑ups.
Discovery of the Body and Autopsy Findings
As the search dragged into its third week, hotel guests began complaining of low water pressure and foul‑tasting, discolored water. On February 19 maintenance worker Santiago Lopez climbed to the roof to inspect the four large water tanks. He noticed the hatch on one tank was open and peered inside, discovering Lam’s nude body floating face up. Her clothes and possessions were found at the bottom of the tank. The tank had to be drained and cut open because the maintenance hatch was too small to remove the body.
The Los Angeles County Coroner’s office performed an autopsy on February 21. Initially the results were inconclusive, but the final report released in June ruled Lam’s death an accidental drowning with bipolar disorder as a significant contributing factor. The body showed moderate decomposition and bloating; there was no evidence of physical trauma, sexual assault, or suicide. Toxicology tests detected only prescription medications, Sinutab, and ibuprofen, along with a negligible amount of alcohol. Critically, the concentration of Lam’s medications was low relative to the number of pills left in her room, suggesting she had under‑medicated or stopped taking them. Forensic pathologist Dr. Jason Tovar later explained in the Netflix docuseries Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel that Lam’s medication levels were insufficient and contributed to her psychotic episode. Clinical psychologist Dr. Judy Ho agreed that the behaviors seen in the elevator video were consistent with a psychotic episode and disorganized thinking associated with severe bipolar I disorder.
Authorities concluded that Lam accessed the roof via a fire escape, then climbed up the ladder attached to the cistern and entered the tank, perhaps seeking a hiding place. Once inside, she likely removed her clothing to stay afloat and eventually drowned when she could no longer keep her head above water. Police speculated that the water level may have dropped as guests used water, making it impossible for her to reach the hatch to climb out. Critics questioned why police dogs had not detected her earlier and whether the tank lids were typically locked. Investigators responded that one tank lid was open and that the dogs lost her scent near a window leading to the fire escape. There was no evidence of foul play.
Speculation, Theories, and Internet Culture
Despite the coroner’s ruling, speculation persisted. Internet sleuths proposed elaborate theories involving murder, ghostly entities or a connection to the 2005 horror film Dark Water, which features a girl’s body found in a rooftop tank and a dysfunctional elevator. Others suggested Lam might have been on recreational drugs that decomposed before testing. Some argued that the elevator video had been tampered with to hide another person. These ideas proliferated on forums, YouTube channels and podcasts, occasionally crossing into harassment of hotel staff or Lam’s family.
The case also intersected with the hotel’s haunted reputation. The presence of serial killers and decades of suicides made the Cecil a magnet for paranormal enthusiasts. In popular culture the Lam story inspired episodes of TV series such as Castle and American Horror Story, songs by bands like Sun Kil Moon and Skynd, and the 2021 Netflix documentary series that reignited interest. Some creative works were criticized as exploitative; nonetheless they perpetuated the mythos. In 2025, a Medium article and other online content continued to frame the case as unsolved despite the official ruling, demonstrating how conspiracy theories persist and adapt. Many advocates for Lam’s family urge respect for her memory and caution against sensationalism.
The Investigation and Lawsuits
The LAPD investigation faced practical constraints. Officers could not search every room without probable cause, and the building’s size and population of long‑term residents complicated the search. Police interviewed hotel staff and guests, reviewed surveillance tapes and canvassed the area. They received criticism for releasing the elevator video, which some said fueled harmful speculation, but detectives argued it was necessary to generate leads when the case stalled.
Lam’s parents filed a wrongful‑death suit against the hotel in September 2013, alleging that management failed to inspect and secure hazards such as the rooftop water tanks. The hotel argued that Lam’s actions were unforeseeable and that staff could not have reasonably anticipated a guest entering the tanks. In 2015 a judge dismissed the suit, ruling that the hotel was not liable for an accident resulting from Lam’s own actions. While the legal case ended, debates about building security and guest safety continued.
The Cecil’s Latest Chapter: Affordable Housing and Controversy
Parallel to public fascination with the Lam case, the Cecil Hotel transformed. After renovations stalled, the Skid Row Housing Trust reopened the building on December 13, 2021, as a 600‑unit affordable‑housing complex. The project aimed to address Los Angeles’s homelessness crisis by offering permanent supportive housing for residents earning less than 30 percent of the area’s median income. However, within a year, residents complained about vermin, mold, leaks, and unsanitary communal bathrooms; a 2023 Los Angeles Times article documented these conditions. The building remained largely empty, with about half of the units occupied in summer 2023.
In March 2024 Simon Baron Properties listed its 99‑year leasehold for sale. The listing described the property as a supportive‑housing complex but highlighted its prime downtown location and potential for redevelopment. Because the sale transferred only the lease, prospective buyers would assume responsibility for operating the housing program and making improvements. Nonprofit leaders expressed hope that the new owners would invest more resources and foster a sense of community within the building. At the time of the listing, the building was about 60 percent occupied to reach 80 to 90 percent occupancy. The sale underscored the tension between a historic site’s storied past and its present role in addressing homelessness.
Analysis: Mental Health, Urban Myth and the Ethics of True Crime
Elisa Lam’s death illustrates the complex intersection of mental health, urban environments, and internet culture. On the one hand the official evidence overwhelmingly supports accidental drowning. Lam had a history of bipolar disorder with psychotic features and had previously stopped taking her medication, resulting in hallucinations. During her final days, she displayed erratic behavior, from locking out roommates to shouting in the lobby and being escorted from a TV taping. Toxicology tests found low levels of her prescriptions and no illicit drugs. Experts like Dr. Tovar and Dr. Ho concluded that she likely experienced a psychotic episode, leading her to climb into the water tank. The accessible fire escape and an open hatch made it possible for her to reach the roof and tank without triggering alarms.
On the other hand, the elevator video’s eerie quality and the hotel’s dark reputation created fertile ground for conspiracy theories. Online communities often fill gaps in knowledge with imaginative narratives, sometimes conflating fiction with reality. The problem is that such speculation can obscure the real issues: the struggles of a young woman managing a serious mental illness while traveling alone; the inadequate mental‑health support systems that leave individuals at risk; and the housing crisis that turned a historic hotel into a controversial SRO. Additionally, sensationalizing tragedies may re‑traumatize families and hinder productive discussion.
The Cecil Hotel’s history reflects broader patterns of urban development and decline. It’s opulent beginning during the roaring twenties gave way to decades of neglect as economic downturns and social issues transformed downtown Los Angeles. The building’s violent incidents and association with serial killers illustrate the human toll of poverty, addiction, and lack of social services. Its latest incarnation as supportive housing demonstrates attempts to repurpose historic properties for social good. Yet, the program’s struggles show how difficult it is to provide dignified, safe housing in old infrastructure.
Common FAQs About the Cecil Hotel
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How many deaths have occurred at the Cecil Hotel?
The exact number of deaths at the Cecil Hotel is not known. Publicly available sources say at least 16 deaths have been reported since it opened in 1924.
A more verifiable death was reported in July 2024: a 26-year-old man named Jimmy Mercado was found dead inside the Cecil building on July 9.
Former staff also say that during 10 years (2007-2017), they witnessed or recorded around 80 deaths.
2. Is Cecil Hotel still open? Can you still book a room?
No, the Cecil Hotel is not open as a regular hotel for public booking. It was closed in 2017 for renovation, then reopened in December 2021 as an affordable housing complex/site operated by Skid Row Housing Trust, housing low-income residents rather than hotel guests seeking short stays.
3. Do most occupants of the hotel believe it’s haunted?
No reliable survey or study shows what most residents believe. The Cecil has a very strong reputation in pop culture, internet lore, and true-crime / paranormal discussions as a haunted place, and that reputation influences public perception. Some current or past occupants do express concern, fear or belief in hauntings due to its history of mysterious and violent deaths; others downplay or reject supernatural explanations, citing more mundane causes (mental illness, neglect, structural problems, etc.).
Here are some perspectives from people living there now or formerly:
- From an article from TheTAB (July 2024), residents report many day-to-day issues: broken elevators, pests, mental health or addiction problems among neighbors, and maintenance issues (like dirty halls, trash, etc.). But that article doesn’t focus on supernatural beliefs or hauntings.
- On Reddit, there’s a post by someone living in the Cecil for about six months who says:
“No ghosts here. The only scary things here is some of the other residents and the constant influx of tourists trying to get in… People here are constantly asked each other if anything creepy has occurred, and the answer is a resounding no.” - Another source: “A parish of its own”: Finding faith inside LA’s famous murder hotel (by ) describes efforts by a minister (Rev. Dylan Littlefield) providing spiritual support. That suggests that some residents may seek solace, possibly due to anxiety related to the building’s history, but not necessarily belief in hauntings per se. The article notes that the building’s dark past continues to cast a shadow on its reputation.
Conclusion
The mystery of Elisa Lam remains compelling because it sits at the intersection of true‑crime intrigue and real‑world complexity. While conspiracy theories continue to circulate, the most plausible explanation is rooted in Lam’s severe bipolar disorder, her failure to adhere to medication, and her subsequent psychotic episode. The case underscores the importance of mental‑health awareness, particularly for young adults traveling alone, and highlights the need for better support systems.
For the Cecil Hotel, Lam’s story is one chapter in a long and troubled history. From its birth as a luxurious Art Déco landmark to its reputation as “The Suicide,” from hosting serial killers to providing refuge for the unhoused, the building has embodied the extremes of urban life. Its 2024 sale listing and ongoing housing program suggest a future still in flux. Whether a new owner can stabilize and transform the site remains to be seen. Still, any discussion should prioritize the well‑being of its residents and the memory of those like Elisa Lam whose lives intersected with its halls. The enduring fascination should serve as a reminder to separate myth from fact and to approach such stories with empathy rather than exploitation.