No Lights Paranormal

Twin City Opera House has spent more than 130 years doing exactly what it was designed to do: filling a room with voices. That becomes a problem when you’re trying to determine whether the footsteps, movement, strange sounds, and stories attached to the McConnelsville, Ohio theater are paranormal—or simply the result of architecture, acoustics, old construction, and more than a century of changing use. In this episode, Alex and Teresa dig into Twin City’s history, the documented deaths near the property, and familiar names like Elizabeth, Victoria, Robert Lowery, Everett Miller, and Horace Porter—including the uncomfortable reality that some of the building’s best-known ghost identities have far less historical support than the stories suggest Then No Lights goes back through its August investigation from the technical side: eight cameras, two DVR systems, static audio, infrared limitations, overlapping sight lines, baseline testing, sound travel, and the parts of the building that refused to cooperate with the plan. Alex and Teresa break down what happened, what didn’t, what deserves further review, and what gets thrown out when context explains more than the haunting does. Because sometimes the most useful result of an investigation isn’t proving something paranormal happened—it’s learning exactly what you need to do differently when you go back.

Fort Mifflin has been taking damage for more than 250 years. Commissioned in 1771, hammered by British artillery during the 1777 Philadelphia Campaign, rebuilt, repurposed, used as a Civil War prison, and later folded into America’s military infrastructure, the fort has accumulated enough documented history that it doesn’t need embellishment to feel heavy. But that hasn’t stopped the legends: a screaming woman, a faceless figure linked to prisoner William H. Howe, unexplained footsteps and voices, a blacksmith who may still be working after hours, shadowy soldiers, and even a ghostly tour guide who apparently never clocked out. This episode, Alex and Teresa are joined by The Unknown Project, a husband-and-wife investigation team who have actually worked Fort Mifflin and know exactly where theory starts getting punched in the face by reality. Together they dig into the fort’s history, its most repeated paranormal claims, the problems with some of those stories, and the very real challenges of trying to collect clean evidence inside thick stone casemates sitting beneath the flight path of Philadelphia International Airport. Along the way, the conversation wanders through gear failures, bad assumptions, hard-earned field lessons, and the difference between researching a location from home and standing inside it with a recorder running.

Fairfield County Infirmary has spent nearly two centuries changing roles, collecting stories, and leaving behind a complicated history that stretches from its early poorhouse years through the county infirmary era and eventually into decades of county-office use. In this episode, Alex and Teresa dig into that history alongside Fairfield’s better-known paranormal claims: unexplained voices and footsteps, shadow figures, reports of a little girl, the figure commonly called Willy, activity in the attic, full-bodied apparitions, and the cemetery behind the property. Along the way, No Lights separates documented people and places from identities that have grown through paranormal folklore—and asks which stories actually give investigators something useful to test. But Fairfield comes with one important difference: No Lights Paranormal hasn’t investigated it yet. Instead of looking backward at a completed investigation, this episode builds the case file before the team ever walks through the door. Alex lays out a theoretical first-night setup, Teresa identifies the locations and claims that deserve attention, and the two work through hotspots, control areas, contamination concerns, equipment priorities, and the questions they would actually ask inside the building. Then, because apparently future embarrassment is educational, they put their predictions on the record—what will matter, what will probably disappoint them, what they expect the building to do, and which assumptions may get thrown directly into the burn barrel once Fairfield finally gets its turn.

Rider’s Inn has spent more than two centuries collecting history, folklore, guests—and more than a few ghost stories. In this episode, Alex and Teresa dig into the complicated history behind the Painesville, Ohio landmark, including the woman remembered as Suzanne, the stories surrounding Room 11, reports of a soldier at a window, and the mysterious low spaces beneath the building. After spending the night at the still-operating restaurant and inn, No Lights examines what happens when a paranormal investigation takes place inside a building that never truly goes quiet. Static audio and video, traffic, guests, staff, old floors, and an unexpectedly quiet night all become part of the evidence. Along the way, the team separates documented history from long-repeated folklore, discusses a possible Room 11 EVP still under review, and asks a question paranormal investigators sometimes forget: what can a quiet investigation teach you when you stop trying so hard to make something happen?

Built in 1859 above Harmar Village in Marietta, Ohio, The Anchorage began as a private mansion and love letter in stone before later becoming a nursing home—and eventually one of the region’s best-known paranormal locations. In this episode, we explore the documented history of the Putnam Villa, the people who lived and worked there, and the stories now attached to its tower, staircase, attic, and parlor. We also examine reports of footsteps, voices, screams, little girls seen throughout the house, a man in a top hat, and the woman often identified as Eliza Putnam—while separating recorded history from folklore that has grown through repetition. We then revisit No Lights Paranormal’s own unusually active investigation, where every team reported experiences and the DVR became the anchor holding the night together. From unexplained attic movement and possible voices to reported camera movement and a powerful cluster of personal experiences in the parlor, The Anchorage gave us far more than we expected—but not one clean answer. We discuss what worked, where our investigation discipline slipped, what still requires audio and video cross-checking, and why even the strongest personal experience remains a lead rather than proof. The Anchorage did not give us one clean trophy. It gave us a house full of leads.