What’s Buried Here

A reflection of stillness, memory, and the spaces we don’t talk about.

Updated July 7, 2025: This page continues to received attention and raise important questions.

Some homes carry history that doesn’t make it into the listing. It isn’t about cracks in the foundation or the age of the roof. It’s something harder to name. A tension. A pattern. A feeling that stories unfolded here, but never really ended.

28 Cañon Escondido is nestled in a quiet corner of the East Mountains. From the outside, it presents serenity: curated landscaping, architectural staging, distant mountain views. But for those who’ve lived in it—or tried to—there is another layer. One that doesn’t appear in disclosures.

There have been legal disputes, emergency hospitalizations, allegations of surveillance, and long periods of silence from those involved. No single moment tells the full story. But taken together, they suggest something deeper. Something not disclosed, not documented, but still present.

No one is saying exactly what happened. But sometimes what’s buried isn’t beneath the floorboards. It’s in the energy. In the choices. In the way certain things never get resolved.

There are too many unanswered questions for this page to offer conclusions. Rather, it is an invitation to look again, and to consider what might have been left out.

Experts note that stigma can shape a property’s story or the public perception of a home, especially when key details are left out of view.  If you’ve ever had the feeling that a space remembers, you may relate to the unease described in Something Felt Off at 28 Cañon Escondido.

For those seeking more context about the seller, additional information is available here.

What Happened Here