Murder Mystery-Room No 1046

In the vast and shadowy archives of unsolved American crimes, few cases inspire as much dread and fascination as the strange events that unfolded in Room 1046 of the Hotel President in Kansas City. This 1935 murder mystery—part noir thriller, part psychological enigma—has remained unsolved for nearly a century. Despite decades of speculation, the truth behind the death of the man who checked in as Roland T. Owen continues to evade historians, sleuths, and true crime enthusiasts alike.

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A Stranger in Room 1046

On January 2, 1935, a tall, dark-haired man with a scar on his scalp and a cauliflower ear—suggestive of a former boxer or wrestler—checked into the Hotel President under the name Roland T. Owen. He brought no luggage except for a hairbrush, comb, and toothpaste, all kept in his coat pocket. He requested an interior room—one without windows to the street.

Bellhops and hotel staff would later describe him as quiet, with a low voice and a blank, almost haunted demeanor. From the start, his presence in the hotel seemed offbeat. He asked for minimal housekeeping and insisted on keeping the room dimly lit. He left and returned at odd hours. Most notably, he was seen speaking to someone he called "Don" on the hotel phone—a name that would haunt the case.

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Suspicious Incidents and Strange Visitors

The next few days brought a series of eerie events. The maid, Mary Soptic, reported that each time she entered the room, the man would be sitting in the dark, either nervous or agitated. He instructed her not to touch the phone and complained about the lack of visitors—despite her hearing another voice in the room on several occasions.

On January 3, a woman visiting another guest reportedly overheard loud arguing coming from Room 1046, involving at least two men. That night, a city worker named Robert Lane encountered a man matching Roland’s description walking erratically along the street, wearing only an undershirt and trousers in the freezing cold. The man muttered something about “killing someone tomorrow.”

The pieces were scattered, but clearly, something was wrong in Room 1046.

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The Discovery of a Crime

On the morning of January 4, the hotel switchboard noticed that the phone in Room 1046 had been left off the hook. A bellboy was sent to check on the room. After several unanswered knocks, he used a passkey to open the door slightly—only to find Roland T. Owen kneeling on the floor, blood pooling around him. The bellboy, seeing the mess and believing the guest to be drunk or sick, backed away and called for help.

When hotel staff finally entered the room fully, they were horrified. The walls and bed linens were splattered with blood. The man had been tied up with cords, stabbed multiple times in the chest, and had his skull fractured from repeated blows. Yet miraculously, he was still alive.

Barely coherent, he insisted that nobody had done this to him—that he “fell against the bathtub.” But the evidence of brutal torture told a different story.

He died a few hours later at the hospital.

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Who Was Roland T. Owen?

The mystery deepened when authorities attempted to notify the man's relatives. It turned out that there was no Roland T. Owen. The name was fake. The police were left with a dead man, no luggage, no fingerprints on the crime scene, and no identity.

A photo of the victim was circulated nationwide. Days later, a woman from Birmingham, Alabama, claimed the man looked like her son, Artemus Ogletree, who had been missing since the previous year. A high school friend of Ogletree’s later confirmed the identification. But no one could explain why he was in Kansas City, why he used a false name, or who "Don" might have been.

Then came the strangest twist.

Shortly after Ogletree’s death, an anonymous caller contacted a local funeral home, insisting that the victim should be buried in a proper cemetery and not a pauper’s grave. The funeral home received money in the mail—enough to cover the burial and a bouquet of roses.

The message on the card read: “Love forever – Louise.”

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Theories and Speculation

Since 1935, the case has birthed endless theories. Some believe Ogletree was involved in organized crime or an underground fight club. Others suspect he may have been running from someone—or something.

The mysterious "Don" figure appears throughout the case like a ghostly puppeteer. Was he a gangster? A lover? An abuser? No definitive answer has ever surfaced.

One popular theory is that Ogletree was being held hostage in the room and tortured over several days. The strange phone calls and visitors would support this. But why didn’t hotel staff intervene sooner? And why did Ogletree continue to insist, even while dying, that nobody had hurt him?

Another theory proposes that Ogletree had been in a homosexual relationship—a taboo at the time—with a man named Don, and the murder was a result of jealousy or abuse. Yet, without hard evidence, the idea remains conjecture.

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A Mystery That Refuses to Die

Despite renewed attention in recent years, including deep dives by amateur sleuths and true crime podcasts, the Room 1046 case remains officially unsolved. It has become a ghost story told by night clerks and a favorite among historians of dark Americana.

The President Hotel, now operating as Hilton President Kansas City, still stands. Guests sometimes request to stay in the infamous room—but whether out of morbid curiosity or something deeper is anyone’s guess.

It’s easy to romanticize the mystery: the fog of the Great Depression, the noir tones of trench coats and telegrams, a young man’s life snuffed out in shadows. But at its heart, this is a tragedy. A man died alone, far from home, his final days filled with fear, confusion, and betrayal.

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The Legacy of Room 1046

More than a sensational crime, the mystery of Room 1046 stands as a reminder of how easily people can vanish into the folds of history. Despite technology, records, and the passage of time, some secrets refuse to be revealed.

Whether the story of Artemus Ogletree will ever be fully told remains uncertain. But one thing is sure: the chilling echoes of that room—its dim lights, its silent witness, its blood-stained walls—continue to whisper across the decades.

And perhaps, that is the final message of Room 1046: that some doors, once closed, are never fully opened.