Aurora’s Dark Secret

It was a quiet neighborhood in Aurora, Colorado—a place where people left their doors unlocked, kids rode bikes until sunset, and neighbors exchanged baked goods over white picket fences. Linda Foster, a 58-year-old retired schoolteacher, had lived on Evergreen Street for over thirty years. She was known for her garden, her cat Muffin, and her habit of renting out her basement to help supplement her pension.

In June 2017, she placed an ad online for a new tenant. She had a few applicants, but one stood out: Jeremy Parks. He was polite, soft-spoken, and came with a reference from a church downtown. Jeremy, a 35-year-old with round glasses and a quiet smile, claimed he was in transition between jobs and needed a few months to get back on his feet. Something about his calm demeanor reassured Linda, and she rented the basement to him without hesitation.

At first, Jeremy was the perfect tenant. He paid rent on time, kept to himself, and never made a sound. Weeks passed. Then months. Linda rarely saw him, and the only evidence of his presence was the occasional glimpse of his car or a muffled step at night.

Then strange things started happening.

Linda's mail would be missing. Her cat began acting oddly, hissing at the basement door. And once, when she went down to check on a leaking pipe, she found the basement door locked—something she never allowed. When she confronted Jeremy, he apologized profusely, blaming the lock on “bad habits from a rough neighborhood.”

But the unease lingered. One day in late October, a neighbor mentioned seeing a woman crying in Jeremy’s car. Linda was startled. She had no idea he was seeing anyone. When she asked Jeremy about it, he said it was his sister going through a bad breakup.

By December, the strange occurrences escalated. A foul smell began wafting through the vents. At first, Linda thought it was a dead animal, but no amount of cleaning helped. When she mentioned it to Jeremy, he claimed he had spilled milk in the fridge.

Then, on Christmas morning, Linda's niece, a police officer from Denver visiting for the holidays, noticed something odd: the basement windows were spray-painted black from the inside. That raised a red flag. She urged Linda to call for a welfare check.

The next day, the police arrived. Jeremy was calm, even cooperative. He allowed officers into the upstairs entrance to the basement. But what they found behind the door stunned even the most seasoned officers.

The basement had been transformed into a makeshift prison. Heavy locks on the inside. Soundproofing foam stapled to the walls. Chains. A cot. And blood—dried pools of it in the corner near a bucket. In a locked chest, they found women's clothing, IDs, and personal effects belonging to two local women reported missing months earlier.

Jeremy was immediately arrested. A deeper investigation uncovered the horrifying truth.

Jeremy Parks was not who he said he was. His real name was Jeremy Price, and he had a record stretching back to his teens. Kidnapping. Assault. But he'd vanished from the system five years earlier, assumed dead or off-grid. In reality, he had been drifting through small towns, targeting women, and disappearing before anyone caught on.

In the Aurora case, it was later discovered that Jeremy had kidnapped two women: a waitress named Kelly Downs and a college student named Maria Soto. He had held them captive in the basement—undetected—using threats and manipulation to keep them quiet. Kelly was found alive, though barely, hidden in a compartment behind a false wall. Maria's remains were later discovered buried in the woods behind a nearby park.

The revelation shattered the neighborhood. How could such horror happen in plain sight?

During interrogation, Jeremy confessed without remorse. He said he was “teaching the world a lesson” and considered himself a “hunter of lies.” Psychologists later diagnosed him with severe antisocial personality disorder and narcissistic delusions.

Linda, devastated by the truth, fell into deep depression. She had unknowingly housed a monster. The guilt was unbearable, despite reassurances that she had no way of knowing. She eventually moved away, unable to bear the memories of Evergreen Street.

Jeremy Price was convicted on multiple counts of kidnapping, murder, and unlawful imprisonment. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole. His case became a textbook example of the dangers of superficial vetting in tenant relationships and prompted several changes to local rental laws regarding background checks and landlord safety training.

The story of “The Quiet Tenant” remains one of the most chilling true crime cases in Colorado’s recent history—not because it was the most violent, but because of how easily it blended into the ordinary. Behind a calm smile and rented basement door, the face of evil had been living among kind neighbors, unnoticed—until it was almost too late.