Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - A Fatal Plot in New Orleans Greed, Betrayal, and the Murder of Everett Elsworth PART3 #86

Episode Date: December 16, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #truecrime #darksecrets #murdermystery #betrayalexposed #realhorrorstories  Part 3 of A Fatal Plot in New Orleans uncovers the deeper layers of Everett Elsworth’s murder. The investigation exposes the extent of greed, deception, and betrayal among those closest to him. Hidden motives and shocking revelations bring the story to a tense turning point, highlighting how trust can be twisted into fatal consequences in a world driven by selfish ambition.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, murdercase, darksecrets, betrayalstory, crimeinvestigation, shockingtruth, fatalplot, greedandmotive, victimstory, hiddenagenda, realcrime, criminalweb, communityshock, realhorrorstories

A death in the shadows, the accident that wasn't. New Orleans has always been a city of masks. Behind the brass bands and Mardi Grasbeads, there's another rhythm, quieter, darker, and far more dangerous. In 2013, the Ellsworth family learned that rhythm the hard way. What began as an apparently tragic accident at a construction site would eventually unravel into a story of ambition, betrayal, and murder. At the heart of it all were three people, Everett Ellsworth, the Patriarch, Juliet, his much younger second wife, and Spencer, his bitter, resentful son. By the time Everett's body was found beneath a pile of twisted metal, the trap had already been set.

But as with most so-called perfect crimes, the devil was in the details, and those details would soon betray Juliet and Spencer. Setting the stage for an accident. Juliette and Spencer had been circling each other for months, their alliance growing stronger by the day. Both wanted Everett out of the way, though for different reasons. Spencer was tired of living under his father's shadow, waiting for a recognition that would never come. Juliet, restless and ambitious, wanted more than the steady but dull life Everett offered her. Together, they'd already decided Everett's death needed to look natural, something tragic, but not suspicious. They couldn't afford gossip about foul play, not if they wanted to walk away clean with

both the business and the fortune. They ran through scenarios like gamblers testing bets, a car crash. Too unpredictable. Poison. Too easy to trace. A staged robbery. Too messy. Finally, Spencer landed on the perfect idea one evening over dinner, his fork lazily pushing

food around his plate. You know how Dad likes to do those late-night inspections at the properties, he said, keeping his voice low. Juliet looked up, her eyes sharp. Inspections He hates bringing anyone with him. Says he wants to see things with his own eyes. He always goes alone, flashlight in hand, like some kind of night watchman.

Spencer smirked. A construction site Tools everywhere weak structures One slip, one bad fall And no one would even ask questions Juliet didn't answer right away But the thought stuck

The chaos of a construction zone provided the perfect cover An accident would seem inevitable Spencer's preparations Over the next few days Spencer began quietly manipulating the chosen site. He visited late at night, making sure no security cameras overlooked the area. He adjusted beams, loosened bolts, and arranged the scene so it could believably collapse

on his father at the right moment. He even went as far as to remove safety inspection documents that confirmed the site was up to code. Every move was meticulous. Spencer wasn't reckless, he knew they only had one chance to pull the this off. He checked and re-checked his work, imagining how investigators would see the site the morning after. Meanwhile, Juliet played her part at home. She acted like nothing was unusual, smiling at Everett during meals, keeping up appearances for friends. But inside, anxiety nodded

her. She was about to cross a line she could never uncross. At night, lying in bed next to Everett, she'd stare at the ceiling and ask herself if she really wanted this. But ambition is a powerful drug, and Spencer knew how to keep her hooked. The Night of the Crime Finally, the Chosen Night arrived. As usual, Everett grabbed his keys, his flashlight, and left the house around 9 o'clock. Juliet kissed him goodbye with just enough warmth to hide her indifference. She knew where he was going, but she perceived.

tended to be none the wiser. What Everett didn't know was that Spencer had arrived at the site earlier, lurking in the shadows, heart-pounding. He could already picture how it would end. When Everett entered, it seemed at first like any other inspection. He shone his flashlight across beams and scaffolding, muttering to himself about progress and deadlines. That's when Spencer stepped out. Dad, he said, voice sharp. Everett turned, startled.

Spencer. What the hell are you doing here this late? What began as a conversation quickly escalated into a heated confrontation? Spencer unleashed years of resentment, shouting about being ignored, dismissed, treated like a failure. Everett, taken aback, tried to calm him, but Spencer wasn't there for reconciliation. He was there for control. The fight didn't last long. Spencer had prepared the environment to work in his favor. With a calculated shove, he sent Everett stumbling into a weakened metal structure.

The beams gave way instantly, collapsing onto him. The crash echoed through the empty property, dust rising like smoke. When the silence settled, Everett lay motionless. Spencer checked for a pulse, nothing. He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, staring down at the man he had both hated and depended on his whole life. Then he turned, walked out, and left the sight arranged to look like nothing more than a fatal workplace accident. The first act, shock and despair. Back home, Juliet waited.

When Spencer returned, his face pale but controlled, she already knew the outcome. They didn't celebrate. They didn't speak much at all. Later that night, when news reached her that Everett's body had been discovered, Juliet put on her best performance. She wailed, sobbed, clutched the phone as she dialed 911 with trembling hands. My husband, he was at the construction site, something must have happened. Her voice cracked perfectly, convincing even to herself.

When officers arrived, Spencer played his role too. He looked devastated, telling them, we didn't always get along, but he was my father. He built everything we have. At first, the scene supported their story. A construction site, a collapsed beam, a dead man beneath the wreckage. It looked tragic but believable. Enter Detective Raymond Allsted. But the city of New Orleans had seen enough suspicious accidents to raise cautious eyebrows.

Detective Raymond Alstead was assigned the case, a seasoned investigator with a sharp eye for detail. At first glance, even Alstead admitted it looked straightforward. But something about the body's position bothered him. The collapse didn't line up with wherever it was found. It looked like he'd been moved. Then there was the site itself. The collapse was strangely isolated. How could one section give way so perfectly with it?

affecting the surrounding structure. Alstead had seen construction accidents before, and this one didn't sit right. He filed those doubts away and turned his attention to the family. Juliet and Spencer under the microscope Juliet gave her statement with flawless composure, maybe too flawless. Her story was neat, consistent, almost rehearsed. She kept repeating lines like, I can't believe this happened. I can't believe this happened.

He was just doing what he always did, checking the sight. Spencer, meanwhile, leaned on the narrative of the estranged but respectful son. He admitted their relationship had been strained but emphasized how much he respected his father's work ethic. On paper, both sounded convincing. But Alstead wasn't fooled. In his experience, the truth rarely came out in perfectly memorized sound bites. When he dug deeper, cracks appeared. Employees at Everett's company told him Everett rarely did late-night inspections unannounced.

He was cautious, preferring to check sites during the day or at least inform someone. This clashed directly with Spencer's claim that night visits were routine. Even stranger was Spencer's phone record. On the night of the accident, his cell phone was inactive for more than two hours near the site. When Alstead asked him about it, Spencer shrugged. Battery died. I was home resting. But the digital trail didn't support that story.

No calls. No texts. Nothing during the crucial window of Everett's death. Forensics don't lie. As the investigation continued, the forensic team delivered a bombshell, Everett hadn't just been crushed by falling beams. His body showed signs of prior assault, bruises and marks inconsistent with simply being trapped under debris.

That detail blew the accident theory apart. Suddenly, what looked like tragedy was starting to smell like homicide. Alstead leaned back in his chair when he got the report, rubbing his temples. So it wasn't just bad luck, he muttered. Somebody wanted Everett gone. Juliet's cracks begin to show. As days turned into weeks, Juliet's performance of the grieving widow began to falter. At first, she accepted casseroles from neighbors, cried on cue at the funeral, and spoke

softly about how unfair it all was. But grief is messy, unpredictable, and Juliet's grief was too tidy. Family members noticed. Her tears seemed rehearsed. Her answers in conversation were clipped, as though she were reciting lines. More than one relative whispered suspicions behind closed doors. Detective Alstead picked up on it too. You don't have to be a genius, he later said, to see when someone's emotions don't match the weight of the loss.

Spencer's overconfidence Spencer, on the other hand, was slipping in a different way. He thought he'd pulled it off. He began strutting into the company office with a new air of authority, already imagining himself as the man in charge. But that arrogance only drew more attention. Employees noticed his eagerness to control finances, his impatience to establish himself as the new boss.

Combined with whispers about his strange alibi, it didn't take long before suspicions grew. The Investigation Titans Detective Alstead started connecting dots. The two perfect statements. The odd financial record Spencer had been adjusting. The reports of Juliet's coldness toward Everett in the months leading up to his death. Piece by piece, the conspiracy that Spencer and Juliet thought was airtight began to unravel. Alstead's gut told him one thing, this wasn't an accident.

It was a setup. And the two people with the most to gain were the very ones putting on the most polished performances of grief. To be continued. The body of Everett Ellsworth had been buried, but his ghost lingered, in inconsistencies, in bruises, in the hollow eyes of his widow and the smirk of his son. Juliet and Spencer thought they had crafted the perfect crime. What they didn't realize was that New Orleans detectives had seen too many masks before. Theirs was already starting to slip.