Location: South Beach, Miami, Florida
When a murder has taken place at a home, it is changed forever. Some will say that it is
changed because the ghosts of the victims will still haunt the halls of the estate, making the current residents part of their eternal torment. Others just feel as if the energy of the home
has been tainted, never to be the same again. While still others, in the case of a world-famous murder, will stand out on their porch and shake their fists at tourists taking snapshots of the “murder house." Such is the case with Casa Casuarina; the home where Gianni Versace was brutally murdered one morning while returning home from breakfast with his Italian newspaper.
The Amsterdam Palace, as it was formerly known, was the high fashion home of mogul Gianni Versace and is considered one of the finest estates in Miami's South Beach area. Recently sold at auction for the whopping price of $41.5 million dollars to the Jordache Blue Jeans family, who beat out Mr. Donald "The Don" Trump himself, the home has some pretty amazing assets. Before he died on the front steps of his mansion from two gun shots to the back of his head, Gianni poured $30 million into renovating the estate bringing back its original glory when architect Alden Freeman, who fashioned it after Alcazar de Colon, the home of Christopher Columbus's son (yes, THAT Christopher Columbus, 1492 sailing the ocean blue and such) and the oldest estate in the Western Hemisphere. Bring it back Gianni did and he added many wonderful extras like a 6100 square foot addition, gold lined swimming pool and a mosaic that has over one million tiles.
Whether or not Gianni's ghost still haunts the halls of Casa Casuarina, it truly is one of the most beautiful homes in the world. The owners will keep it in its current function as a hotel, so visitors beware, if you wear white after Labor Day or have some other fashion faux pas, don't be surprised if you hear a disembodied voice whisper in your ear, "Oh my, that outfit is ghastly!"
There's a chill in the air and a full moon over Boot Hill. A pack of wild hounds howl in the distance as the mountain winds whistle through the empty streets. A piano plays something familiar from the old saloon, but the place is empty. Where did the people go? Are you afraid? Would you buy a Colora...More