Manic Energies

West Road Hospital opened in 1959, a triumphant new addition to the community of Lakeshore. The day this much-needed service was brought to Lakeshore was hailed as one of the greatest days in the community's history. For the first time, locals would not have to travel more than 30 miles to for emergency medical aid. But on the day the hospital closed its doors, almost exactly 40 years after it opened, it was a day of bitterness and mixed feelings in the town of Lakeshore. What was to become of the residents, who once again had to travel more than 30 miles to the nearest hospital, a new state-of-the-art facility in Leroy? And what was to become of the hulking brick structure now that no life resided within it?

Perhaps the biggest scandal ever to hit the cozy small town of Lakeshore concerned the hospital, and the eccentric owner of the property it sat on.

The people of Lakeshore long considered Frederick Jules, son of prominent city councillor, philanthropist and businessman Gary Jules (1929-1995) to be an bit strange, but harmless. Frederick Jules had a habit of spending his family's money on frivolous, useless, or just plain weird purchases. He ran a healthy real-estate business that brought in enough of income to sustain his idiosynchratic spending habits. Over time, however, his lifestyle became more opulent and he took to gambling. His fortunes began to dwindle. It was around this time that his father passed on and he inherited the hospital property. The hospital was doomed to close just a few years later.

When the hospital did close, Frederick was to be in charge of the building's demolition and reselling the property. Instead he took the money set aside for demolition and cleanup and skipped town. It came to light not long afterwards that he had been laundering money from the hospital's property fund for some time. The fund was to be used for building repairs, property taxes, and biohazardous waste disposal and cleanup. The hospital property was not resold and demolition never occurred.

A local company, knowing the situation, proposed to turn the existing building into office space and was given the keys by the city for one dollar. But everyone from the company who entered left the building within a few hours, violenty shaken, terrified and ill. After they recovered they were still reluctant to talk about what they had seen. Eventually it came to light that much of the hospital's contents had been improperly disposed of. Syringes, blood bags, and even human organs were still in the building. The company abandoned its plan to convert the hospital into office space and never returned to the property.

The city hushed up the scandal and sent in a team to clean up whatever was left in the hospital. The residents nearby were startled by the people in white biohazard suits entering and leaving the building. The stigma surrounding the proporty was beginning to be formed.

The cleanup team spent nearly six weeks in the hospital, during which time many quit their jobs or were treated for stress. Little was said in the press except that there was strong evidence that wrongdoings went on far before the hospital's closure.

With the cleanup finished the building was locked up and sealed off. The dark building sat empty, intimidating and ominous. Within a few years it became common belief in Lakeshore that the hospital was haunted. This is where our research begins.