Welcome to Haunted Road, a production of IHeart Radio and Grimm and Mild from Aaron Manky.

Listener discretion is advised.

What happens when you turn a haunted building into a haunted attraction?

I've investigated many a building with a paranormal reputation that was also used as a haunted attraction. I've investigated many a building with a paranormal reputation that was also

used as a haunted house during the fall season. For a few hours every night, these locations,

already buzzing with spiritual energy, are filled with thrill seekers. They're nervous, terrified energy permeating every crack in the wall

and every dark corner they turn toward. Their screams echo non-stop, unending, until the last guest

walks out the exit door at closing time. Then the animatronics are turned off,

the actors wipe off their garish makeup, hang up their blood-stained costumes, and head home. And then

the space is silent. Or is it? I'm Amy Bruni, and this is Haunted Road. In Tuella, Utah, a single-story brick

medical facility sits right next to a graveyard. The rounded entrance is covered in glass windows,

and the words Asylum 49 are scratched over the double doors out front. The interior

beyond the foyer is largely dark and windowless with fluorescent lighting overhead. The structure has

all of the rooms that you'd expect to find in a hospital, a maternity ward, an ER, staff lounges, locker

rooms, and a conference room.

That said, you might not recognize the conference room if you were to visit it today.

It's dressed to look like a chapel, and I'll cover why later on.

The main hallway runs from one side of the building to the other,

but one offshoot corridor dubbed the Green Mile has sterile,

greenish-blue flooring, and a never-ending string of doorways.

The building is known alternatively as either the Tuwela Valley Hospital or Asylum 49.

I haven't found a historical record to verify this, but the hospital might have begun its existence as a single residence home.

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