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The Amityville Horror has to be one of my favorite movies of all time. I'm really into that whole horror/killer/ghost movie genre and The Amityville Horror fits right into that category. The entire movie is capitalizing on the tragedies of the DeFeo family, and though much of the movie is exaggerated, I feel that Andrew Douglas did a great job capturing the underlying spook the Lutz family felt. The actual story of what happened is much more intriguing to me than the way the movie portrays it, and I have realized this after doing much of my research about the horrific murders.

So the story begins in the early evening hours of November 13, 1974, the patrons of Henry’s Bar, a tavern located at the corner of Merrick Road and Ocean Avenue in Amityville, gossiped while sipping their beers and cocktails.

At 6:30 p.m., Ronald DeFeo Jr., known by the locals as “Butch,” opened the door to the bar and yelled, “You got to help me! I think my mother and father are shot.”

One of the patrons seated at the bar was Robert “Bobby” Kelske, an out‑of‑work brick mason and Butch’s best friend. Bobby raced to his friend, who had fallen to his knees.


Crying hysterically, Butch again pleaded for help, “Bobby, you got to help me. Somebody shot my mother and father.”

“Are you sure they’re not asleep?” Bobby offered.

“No, I saw them up there.”

“Come on then; let’s go.”

Butch got to his feet and called for others at the bar to follow Bobby and him back to the DeFeo house. Answering Butch’s call was John Altieri, Joey Yeswoit, Al Saxton and William Scordamaglia, the owner of Henry’s Bar. The six men piled into Butch’s 1970 blue Buick Electra 225. Butch climbed in the back while Bobby took the wheel.

Although the DeFeo house was only a block away, Bobby drove frantically down the street. One of the men yelled out for him to slow down, but Bobby ignored the comment, arriving at 112 Ocean Avenue, the DeFeo's address in a matter of seconds.

The DeFeo residence was a large, rambling, three‑story Dutch Colonial home built in 1925. Because the property was long and narrow, the dark‑shingled house sat sideways with the front door facing the elongated driveway. At the end of the DeFeos’ 237‑foot‑long lot sat their boathouse, right at the edge of the Amityville Creek.

Bobby pulled the car to a quick halt and climbed out. As he climbed up the front‑porch steps, one of the other men cautioned, “Be careful! Somebody might be in there!”

“I don’t care,” Bobby yelled as he opened the unlocked door to the DeFeo home.

The house was quiet, except for the barking of Shaggy, the DeFeos’ sheepdog, who was tied up to the inside of the kitchen’s back door. Because the dog was not totally housebroken, the family routinely tied the animal there.

With Bobby Kelske in the lead, the five men hurried up the stairs to the second floor. Bobby, a regular visitor to the DeFeo household, knew exactly where the master bedroom was located. As they reached the second floor, they were overwhelmed with the stench of death.

Bobby stopped at the doorway to the master bedroom and hit the light switch. Before him lay Ronald Joseph DeFeo Sr., 43, and his wife Louise DeFeo, 42. A hole in the center of DeFeo Sr.’s bare back was the first indication the couple was not sleeping. Dried blood had trickled out of the wound, disappearing beneath the obese man’s blue boxer shorts.

In contrast, Louise DeFeo’s wounds were not clearly ascertainable because her body was buried beneath an orange blanket as if she were protecting herself against the evening chill. Behind the bed was a mirrored wall, which eerily reflected the macabre scene.

Seeing that Bobby was ready to pass out, the other men led him downstairs, past the life‑size portraits of family members that hung on the staircase wall.

John Altieri remained on the second floor and checked out the northeast bedroom. On opposite sides of the room lay the bodies of two young boys, face down like their parents. In the bed on the left lay the body of John DeFeo, nine. Altieri could not pinpoint the bullet hole in John’s back since the “Knicks” sweatshirt he was wearing was covered in blood.
In the other bed lay John’s brother, Marc DeFeo, 12. Next to Marc’s bed was a pair of crutches and a plain, gray wheel chair. The boy had recently suffered a football injury and needed their assistance to get around. At the foot of his bed lay a crumpled‑up green and yellow bedspread and an orange blanket. This time, Altieri could make out the wound: a single bullet hole in the center of the boy’s back.

Seeing more than he had wanted, Altieri left the room and rejoined the others on the ground floor. There, Joe Yeswoit called 911, giving details to an emergency operator.

Well, this is quite a lot to take in; however, at Butch's trial where he was tried for the murders of his family, he swore that the devil made him do it, and that a voice in the family's basement, which he made his bedroom, kept telling him to "Ketch 'em and Kill 'em." For any of you who have watched the movie, the whole ghosts coming out in the day and wreaking havoc on the family really isn't true. During Butch's trial he stated that "...it was cold-blooded murder. Period. No ghosts. No demons. Just three people in which I was one."

During a 2000 interview, the details of the hours leading up to the six killings emerged. The DeFeo household had been in a frenzied state during the evening of November 12, 1974. Butch's father, according to Butch, routinely abused his family. After that evening's tirade had settled down, Butch, his 18-year-old sister Dawn, and two of Butch's friends proceeded to get "high" in the basement.

Incensed that her father was preventing her from joining her boyfriend in Florida and worn out from the years of physical abuse, Dawn DeFeo approached her older brother about killing their parents. Butch initially refused. After a culmination of drugs, alcohol, and desperation over the next few hours, Butch finally gave into Dawn's ghoulish request. Employing his two friends, Butch and Dawn left the safety of the family's basement and headed for their parents' bedroom on the second floor. It was around 1:00 a.m. on November 13, 1974. While one friend waited as a lookout, the other, with his Colt Python, followed Butch, who had armed himself with a .35-Marlin rifle.

The parents were attacked while they lay in bed. Mr. DeFeo, however, was able to struggle to his feet to attempt a counterattack on his assassins. A second bullet struck him dead before he was able to reach his target. Louise DeFeo lay in bed, moaning for help, as she slowly bled to death. A second bullet would silence the woman for good.

Although the original plan called for the younger children to be taken to the grandparents' house in Brooklyn, Dawn, according to Butch, killed them to eliminate the children as witnesses and potential threats. Butch claimed he was not in the house at the time of the children's murders, but giving pursuit to one his friends, who had fled the scene, in order to lure him back to assist with the cleanup. Even while feigning insanity at trial, Butch DeFeo never admitted shooting the children.

Dawn ordered the boys face down when she entered their room and shot them point blank in the head. The next room Dawn entered was Allison's. Standing at the doorway, Dawn raised the rifle, taking aim as Allison slightly raised her head before looking into the muzzle flash. Death was instantaneous, as the bullet impacted Allison's left cheek and exited her right ear. Allison's wounds were meant to disfigure the beautiful girl.

Butch, upon his return and enraged at the senseless murder, confronted Dawn DeFeo in her third-floor bedroom. After briefly wrestling for the gun, Butch got the upper hand and slammed Dawn against the bed knocking her out. As she lie unconscious on her bed, Butch placed the back of the rifle to Dawn's head and fired. The murderous spree had finally ended, but the cleanup had just begun.

All of this is so fucked up. In total, Butch murdered his mother, father, two brothers (one of whom was only 9 years old), and two sisters . . . because "voices in his head told him to." I highly suggest that anyone who has not seen this movie should, and if you would like to vist the house, it is in Amityville, New York, not too far from where I live. My father went there recently and told me that the family who lives there do not like visitors and gawkers, but they deal with it.

Thanks to The Amityville Murders.