Haunted Nights at the Cecil County Detention Center

By Ed Okonowicz

The tiny peninsula that formed where the Little Elk Creek and the Big Elk Creek meet southwest of Elkton is an interesting geographical and historical site. The land near the convergence of the two streams attracted the attention of the Cecil County government, which decided to build a new detention center on the marshy wet­lands in the early 1980s.

Some folks, however, believed the location had been a popular site for centuries. A group of area archaeologists arranged to make exploratory digs before construction began to determine if the long held belief that an Indian village had been located there was correct.

When members of the Northeast Chapter of the Archaeological Society of Maryland and the staff of Mid-Atlantic Archaeological Research did excavations on the thirteen-acre site, what they found was interesting. Their efforts uncovered hundreds of pieces of American Indian pottery, more than one hundred arrowheads, and, about four feet below the surface, a skeleton in a grave. The human bones were sent to the Smithsonian Institution, which returned a report dating the remains to be from about AD 1400.

Encouraged by their success, the archaeological team continued its efforts and found more gravesites. Their locations were logged in, noted, and left undisturbed.

Their exploration verified that the small peninsula had been the site of a large Indian village and burial ground. Even hundreds of years ago the convergence of the two creeks was recognized as being a good location to establish a settlement, for it was easier than other open spaces to defend, and the water routes encouraged accessibility and trade. Also, years later in the early 1800s, the area was the site of Fort Hollingsworth, which served as both a trading post for settlers and a military outpost for the Maryland militia. After the archaeological procedures were completed and documentation recorded, construction on the new jail began.

Indian Ghosts at the Jail

In the summer of 1984, the Cecil County Detention Center, operated by the Cecil County Sheriff’s Office, wasofficially opened. It was common knowledge that the prison was built in the vicinityof an Indian burial ground. In fact, for some time the main wing of the newbuilding had a display of arrowheads and Indian tools and pottery found in thearea.

In the last few months before the prison was ready to accept its first occupants, correctional staff were assigned to stay overnight to maintain security and keep the curious away.

Jane, who has worked for the sheriff’s office, heard stories from night shift workers who said they were bothered by unexplained footsteps, saw lights go on and off, and heard howling sounds that seemed to be rushing through the halls of the empty center. It was during the early days at the new facility, when the prison population was well below its 128-person capacity, that Jane learned of a very unusual experience.

With only about eighty-five prisoners, each inmate was able to have his own four- by eight-foot cell. Mike, a small-time criminal serving time for a light offense, was assigned during the day to out­=of-cell duty cleaning offices. “This guy was no wimp,” Jane said, thinking back on the incident. “He was in his mid-twenties, used to associate with bikers, and he was a big guy, six foot and two hundred pounds. He came into the office and looked scared. I said, ‘What’s wrong, Mike?”‘

She said that he looked around, as if he wanted to make sure no one could hear him. “You’re not going to believe this,” he told Jane, and then went on to explain.

After the usual 11 P.M. lockdown the night before, Mike said he fell asleep and was awakened in the wee hours of the morning. While his eyes adjusted to the dark, he noticed that he couldn’t move his arms. They were pinned down, tight against his body, by the hands of an Indian chief who was straddling the prisoner’s body and pressing down hard against him.

“Mike said the Indian was wearing a bonnet full of feathers and war paint,” Jane said. “He tried to move and wrestled with the spirit, and said he ended up struggling with the ghost for most of the night, until daylight. He said there never was any talk between them. But he was really afraid, to the point that he asked to be moved into a different cell with another guy. He said he felt better at night with someone else around.”

Jane said Mike never saw the Indian again, and no one else admitted to seeing the warrior either. It was so real to him,” she said. “When people say, ‘He looks like he’s seen a ghost!’ that was the case, here. He was so pale, and it was obvious that he had a rough night. was hard, really something, for him to admit what happened. He wasn’t the kind that wanted anybody to think he was afraid. I don’t think he ever went into that cell again. It didn’t bother him to walk by it during the day, but at night, he wouldn’t go near it.”

The Elk River

Not far from the prison, Oldfield Point Road runs along the Elk Kiver. Until recently, it was a quiet, unnoticed area of the county, a bit off the beaten path-visited by boat people in the summer and home to only a few year-round residents who lived in small cot­tages by the water’s edge. Now, passersby can see growing areas of residential development as more commuters discover the scenic setting and the calming, picturesque views of the nearby Elk River/

What rests nearby or even beneath some of the newer properties is questionable. Residents of certain homes in the area have reported seeing circles of fire and hearing chanting in the late evenings. No logical explanation has been found. Rumors and hearsay, however, suggest that the answer may be that some home sites are located uncomfortably close to more undiscovered Indian burial grounds. It’s not an impossibility.

Reprinted with permission of the author;  From Opening the Vestibule, Aug. 1996