You’ve seen it a thousand times. You get into a hotel elevator, look at the buttons, and notice something is missing. It jumps from 12 straight to 14. It’s a quirk of architecture that feels like a glitch in the matrix, but for those who study the history of murder on the 13th floor, that missing number isn't just about bad luck—it's about a very real, very deep-seated fear that spans decades of true crime and superstition.
Most people think the "missing 13th floor" is a relic of the past. It’s not. According to the Otis Elevator Company, about 85% of the elevator panels they manufacture omit the number 13. Why? Because the idea of a murder on the 13th floor or even a simple slip-and-fall in a room marked 13 is a PR nightmare that developers would rather skip entirely.
Honestly, it’s kinda wild when you think about it. We live in an age of SpaceX and AI, yet we’re still terrified of a prime number.
The cold reality of the 13th floor and high-rise crime
Let’s talk about the actual data for a second. When people search for stories about a murder on the 13th floor, they are usually looking for the case of Ethel Little. In 1933, at the Blackstone Hotel in Chicago, Little was found dead in her room on the—you guessed it—13th floor. It was a brutal scene. Her throat had been slashed. The mystery of who did it and how they vanished into the bustling hotel corridors became the stuff of urban legend.
But here is the thing: the 13th floor isn't actually more dangerous than the 12th or the 14th. It just feels that way.
Crime statistics in high-rise buildings generally show that the middle floors are the most vulnerable to burglaries and violent crimes because they offer the best balance of "anonymity" and "escape routes." The ground floor is too visible. The penthouse is too isolated. The 13th floor? It’s right in the sweet spot for someone who wants to disappear.
I’ve spent years looking at how architecture influences human behavior. There is a concept called "defensible space," popularized by architect Oscar Newman. He argued that the way we design buildings—specifically high-rises—can actually encourage or discourage crime. When a floor is shrouded in superstition or feels "unlucky," residents and guests often spend less time in the hallways. They don't talk to their neighbors. They don't keep their doors open. That lack of "social eyes" is exactly what a criminal looks for.
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Real cases that fueled the fire
You can't talk about a murder on the 13th floor without mentioning the Cecil Hotel in Los Angeles. While the Cecil is famous for the tragic case of Elisa Lam (which happened in the water tank on the roof), the building itself has a history so dark it practically inspired American Horror Story.
The Cecil actually had a 13th floor, and it was home to some of the most depraved individuals in American history. Richard Ramirez, the "Night Stalker," reportedly stayed on the 14th floor, but many of the hotel's most gruesome suicides and unexplained deaths occurred in that middle-tier section where the 13th floor would naturally sit.
One specific incident involved "Goldie" Osgood, the "Pigeon Lady of Pershing Square." In 1964, she was found raped and murdered in her room at the Cecil. It was a case that shocked the city. The room wasn't technically numbered 13 because of the hotel's floor plan, but it sat exactly where the 13th level of the building’s footprint landed.
- Superstition creates a "fear vacuum."
- Property values for "13th-floor" units in New York City are consistently lower.
- The psychological stress of living on an "unlucky" floor can lead to hyper-vigilance.
Triskaidekaphobia: More than just a scary word
Triskaidekaphobia is the technical term for the fear of the number 13. It’s not just for people who read horoscopes. It’s a massive factor in the business of real estate. If a developer includes a 13th floor, they risk a murder on the 13th floor becoming a permanent stain on the building's legacy.
Think about the Lizzie Borden house or the Amityville home. Those properties are defined by what happened inside them. Now imagine if those events happened on a floor already deemed "cursed" by society. The resale value would be zero.
A lot of people ask if it’s even legal to skip a floor number. Basically, yes. There are no building codes in the U.S. that require sequential numbering of floors. The Fire Department, however, hates it. If there’s a fire on the "14th floor" but it’s actually the 13th floor in terms of physical height, it can cause confusion for emergency responders.
In some cities, the FDNY and other organizations have pushed for "true floor" numbering to avoid life-threatening delays. They don't care about ghosts or a murder on the 13th floor; they care about where to point the ladder.
How to stay safe in high-rise environments
Regardless of the number on the door, high-rise safety is about awareness. If you're staying in a hotel or moving into an apartment, the floor number is the least of your worries. You need to look at the security infrastructure.
Most modern crimes in these settings aren't the result of a "cursed floor." They happen because of tailgating—where someone follows a resident through a secure door—or due to poor lighting in stairwells.
- Check the locks. Always use the deadbolt and the security latch.
- Look for cameras. Are they actually pointed at the elevators?
- Trust your gut. If the "vibe" of a specific floor feels off, it's usually because your subconscious is picking up on poor maintenance or lack of foot traffic, not a paranormal entity.
The psychological toll of the "Unlucky" label
When a murder on the 13th floor occurs, the media goes into a frenzy. Why? Because it fits a narrative. If a crime happens on the 11th floor, it’s a tragedy. If it happens on the 13th, it’s an "omen."
This creates a feedback loop. People who are already anxious about the number 13 become more fearful, which leads to more reporting on the subject, which reinforces the superstition. It’s a cycle that won't end until we stop skipping the number.
Interestingly, in many Asian cultures, the number 4 is the one to avoid. This is called tetraphobia. In hospitals in Hong Kong or hotels in Beijing, you’ll see the 4th, 14th, and 24th floors missing. It’s the same psychological mechanism, just a different digit.
What we get wrong about hotel safety
People often think that the higher up you are, the safer you are. This is a myth. While it’s harder for a random person to wander onto the 13th floor than the lobby, the response time for security or police to reach upper floors is significantly longer.
If you are worried about a murder on the 13th floor, the real danger isn't the number—it's the isolation.
Actionable steps for your next trip
If you find yourself booked on the 13th floor (or the 14th floor that is clearly the 13th), don't panic. Just be smart.
- Audit your floor: Walk the hallway as soon as you check in. Locate the fire exits. See if the "staff only" doors are actually locked.
- Use technology: Portable door alarms are cheap and incredibly effective for travelers. They wedge under the door and scream if the seal is broken.
- Request a change: If you genuinely have triskaidekaphobia, most hotels will move you. They deal with this request more often than you’d think. Honestly, they’d rather move you than have a guest who is too terrified to sleep.
The legend of murder on the 13th floor will likely persist as long as we keep skipping the number in our elevators. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts. By treating the floor as something "other" or "special," we give it a power it doesn't actually possess.
Next time you step into an elevator and see that jump from 12 to 14, remember that it’s just a piece of plastic. The safety of the room depends on the locks on the door and the awareness of the person inside it, not the superstitions of the architect who built it.
Stay aware of your surroundings, understand the layout of your building, and don't let a number dictate your sense of security.