Derek and Maria Broaddus: A Family’s Nightmare in Westfield

Derek and Maria Broaddus dreamed of a fresh start in a charming suburban home. In 2014, they closed on a beautiful six-bedroom house at 657 Boulevard in Westfield, New Jersey, for $1.3 million. But joy turned to fear when anonymous letters arrived from someone calling themselves “The Watcher.” These notes threatened their three young children and claimed the house needed “young blood.” Derek and Maria Broaddus never moved in, facing years of stress, investigations, and heartbreak. Their story, now famous from a Netflix series, shows how one family’s pursuit of the American dream collided with real terror. This tale grips readers with its mix of everyday life and unsolved mystery, much like top-ranked articles that blend timelines, emotions, and facts for deep engagement.

Who Are Derek and Maria Broaddus? A Look at Their Early Lives

Derek and Maria Broaddus built a solid life through hard work and family focus. Derek grew up in working-class Maine, far from the upscale suburbs of New Jersey. He left Portland after high school, heading to Fairfield University in Connecticut. There, he earned a Bachelor of Science in marketing in 1996. That degree opened doors in New York City’s fast-paced business world.

Derek started in entry-level sales but climbed quickly. By his late 30s, he held the role of senior vice president at a major insurance firm in Manhattan. His days involved big deals, client meetings, and long commutes. Colleagues remember him as driven yet kind, always putting family first. “Derek balanced boardrooms and bedtime stories like a pro,” one former coworker shared in a 2018 profile. His career success funded the family’s move to Westfield, a town known for top schools and safe streets.

Maria Broaddus, born Maria Joy Santamauro, tells a different origin story. She grew up right in Westfield, playing in its tree-lined parks and attending local schools. Westfield felt like home—a place of bike rides, summer barbecues, and close-knit neighbors. After high school, Maria studied mathematics at Fairfield University, where she met Derek. Their shared college years sparked a romance built on laughter and late-night study sessions.

Marriage followed graduation, and soon came three children: two girls and a boy, ages 3, 6, and 4 at the 2014 house purchase. Maria chose family over a full-time career, becoming a devoted stay-at-home mom. She volunteered at school events and baked for neighborhood gatherings. Friends describe her as the “glue” of any group, warm and quick with a smile. Together, Derek and Maria Broaddus embodied the suburban ideal: stable jobs, loving kids, and big plans for the future.

Their bond strengthened through challenges. Derek’s Maine roots taught resilience; Maria’s local ties added comfort. By 2014, with Derek turning 40, they sought a forever home near Maria’s parents. Little did they know, this choice would test their strength like never before.

Derek’s Path to Success: From Maine to Manhattan

Derek’s career stands out as a key part of his story. He did not inherit wealth; he earned it step by step.

• High School Hustle: At Cheverus Jesuit High School in Portland, Maine, Derek excelled in sports and studies. He played soccer and volunteered at community centers, building teamwork skills early.
• College Climb: At Fairfield, Derek majored in marketing to blend creativity with business smarts. He interned at small ad firms, learning to pitch ideas under pressure.
• Early Jobs: Post-graduation, Derek landed sales roles at health and wellness startups. He sold employee benefit programs, honing his knack for listening to clients’ needs.
• Insurance Rise: By 2010, Derek joined a Manhattan insurance giant as a regional manager. Promotions came fast— to director by 2012, then senior VP. His salary topped $250,000 annually, per public records from the era.

Today, Derek works in digital healthcare sales at TELUS Health, focusing on mental health platforms. It’s a fitting shift after his ordeal, emphasizing wellness for stressed families. “Helping others heal hits different now,” he posted on LinkedIn in 2023.

Stats show Derek’s field thrives: The U.S. insurance market hit $1.5 trillion in 2024, per Statista. Yet, Derek’s real achievement? Balancing a high-stakes job with dad duties, like coaching youth soccer.

Maria’s Roots in Westfield: A Hometown Heart

Maria’s life weaves deeply into Westfield’s fabric. Born in 1974, she roamed its streets as a kid, dreaming of raising her own family there someday.

• Childhood Memories: Maria attended local elementary schools, joining choir and math club. Westfield’s annual Memorial Day parade was her highlight—marching with friends under sunny skies.
• Teen Years: At Westfield High, she shone in academics, graduating with honors. Math came easy; she tutored peers for extra cash.
• College and Beyond: Fairfield brought independence. After meeting Derek, Maria interned at a Newark accounting firm but soon prioritized family. “Numbers add up, but love multiplies,” she once quipped to a local paper.

As a mom, Maria’s “achievements” shine in quiet ways. She led PTA fundraisers, raising $5,000 for playground upgrades in 2012. Her home-baked cookies became legend at school events. Post-ordeal, Maria advocates for stalking victims, sharing tips anonymously online: “Trust your gut—report early.”

Westfield’s appeal? It’s ranked among America’s safest towns, with crime rates 60% below national averages (FBI data, 2024). For Maria, it was paradise—until it wasn’t.

The Dream Home That Turned into a Nightmare

In June 2014, Derek and Maria Broaddus signed papers for 657 Boulevard. This 1905 Dutch Colonial boasted six bedrooms, four baths, and 3,800 square feet. Built on a quiet street, it sat amid grand homes owned by doctors and executives. Price: $1,355,657. For Maria, blocks from her childhood home, it screamed “forever.”

They planned renovations: fresh paint, updated kitchens, a backyard play area. Contractors buzzed in; kids picked bedroom colors. “This is our second chapter,” Derek told friends. But three days post-closing, Derek checked the mailbox alone after dark. Inside: a plain envelope marked “The New Owner.”

The typed letter welcomed them warmly, then chilled. “657 Boulevard is anxious for you to move in… It has been years since the young blood ruled the hallways.” It named their kids’ approximate ages, mentioned contractors, and warned against changes. Signed: “The Watcher.” Derek’s hands shook. He called police that night.

Unpacking the First Letter: A Welcome Gone Wrong

That initial note set the tone—polite yet probing. Key lines:

1. Personal Touches: It referenced the house’s “history” and the family’s “greed” for buying it.
2. Creepy Details: How did the writer know about the kids or backyard play? The enclosed porch, hidden by bushes, seemed private.
3. Threat Vibe: “You know I will be watching.” No direct harm, but the obsession hinted at danger.

Police arrived fast. An officer read it aloud, muttering, “What the fuck?” They dusted for prints (none useful) and advised caution. Derek drove home to Maria and the kids, heart pounding. They decided: No kids near the house until safe.

This mirrors high-ranking stories’ success—vivid quotes and step-by-step dread build reader pull, like Wikipedia’s timeline focus.

The Letters Escalate: Fear Takes Hold

More notes followed over 2014-2017, totaling four main ones, plus fragments. Each upped the stakes, blending poetry with menace. Derek and Maria Broaddus stored them in a safe, rereading for clues.

• Second Letter (Weeks Later): “Dearest new neighbor… Let the young blood play outside again.” It mocked renovations: “Tsk, tsk—don’t make 657 unhappy.” Sent to their old address, showing stalking reach.
• Third (Months In): “Where have you gone? 657 misses you.” It pleaded for kids’ return, calling the house “anxious” for life.
• Fourth (2017): The ugliest. “To the vile Derek and his wench Maria… You tried to ruin my home.” It cursed their lawsuit (more later) and vowed revenge.

These weren’t scrawls; they read literary, with typos adding unease. One expert called them “elegant threats.” The family stopped visits. They lived with Maria’s mom, paying dual mortgages—$10,000 monthly drain.

Impact? Sleepless nights, therapy sessions, canceled trips. Derek obsessed over suspects; Maria shielded kids with stories of “silly letters.” Stats: Stalking affects 1 in 10 U.S. women yearly (CDC, 2024), but this felt personal.

For deeper dives, check the full saga on Wikipedia’s page on The Watcher of Westfield. It ranks high for its neutral facts and references, drawing searchers with clean structure.

How the Letters Knew Too Much

Writers seemed omniscient:

• Kid Details: Birth order, nicknames—pulled from public records or peeks?
• House Secrets: Layout mentions, like the “basement with secrets.” Past owners confirmed no prior leaks.
• Timing: One arrived deposition day in their lawsuit, as if eavesdropping.

Private eyes staked out; nothing. DNA on one envelope? Female, but no match. Community whispers grew: Hoax? The Broadduses pushed back, hiring ex-FBI agents.

Investigation: Chasing Shadows in Suburbia

Derek and Maria Broaddus refused to cower. They looped in Westfield PD day one. Cops treated it seriously—harassment is felony in NJ—but leads dried fast.

Steps they took:

1. Police Logs: Officers interviewed neighbors, eyeing the Langfords next door (odd behaviors noted). No proof.
2. Expert Hires: $20,000 on pros. A forensic linguist analyzed style: Educated writer, erratic mind. Ex-NYPD checked alibis.
3. DNA Push: Envelope swab suggested woman, 40s. They funded genealogists—$5,000 outlay—for family trees. Dead end.
4. FBI Consult: Derek tapped a high-school contact (Silence of the Lambs muse). Threat level: High, but no feds without violence.

By 2017, case went cold. Union County kept it open, but inactive. As of 2025, no arrests. “It’s like cancer—we think of it daily,” Derek said in a 2022 interview.

Broader context: Unsolved stalkings plague 7% of U.S. cases (DOJ stats). Yet, Derek and Maria Broaddus‘ persistence inspires— they shared tips with victims’ groups.

Recent updates? See TODAY’s 2022 profile on the Broaddus family now. It ranks well for empathetic updates and family focus, boosting dwell time.

Suspect Spotlights: Neighbors Under Scrutiny

Top theories:

• Langfords: Eccentric couple; wife collected dolls. Alibi gaps, but clean record.
• Abby (Realtor): DNA female match? She showed homes nearby.
• Hoax Rumors: Some locals blamed the Broadduses for hype. Derek tweeted clapbacks: “Still waiting for that apology.”

No smoking gun. The Watcher’s silence post-2017 fuels debate: Moved on? Or watching still?

Family Impact: When Home Becomes a Haunt

The ordeal reshaped Derek and Maria Broaddus. Financially: $400,000 loss on sale, plus $150,000 in fees/taxes. They rented 657 briefly (tenant got no letters), but emotional toll loomed larger.

Kids suffered too. Aged 3-6 then, they sensed tension—no playdates near Boulevard. Therapists helped: “Draw your safe place,” one suggested. Today, teens thriving in school sports.

Maria’s anxiety peaked; Derek grew obsessive, scouring forums. “We lost our joy,” Maria reflected. But resilience shone: Family game nights, Maine vacations. They stayed in Westfield—Maria’s roots too deep—buying a modest home via LLC for privacy.

Positive spin? It bonded them. “Trauma tests ties; ours held,” Derek noted. Stats: 70% of stalked families report stronger units post-crisis (Victim Support, 2024).

For real estate angles, House Beautiful details the house’s post-sale fate. It excels SEO-wise with visuals and buyer updates, keeping readers hooked.

Daily Life Disrupted: A Timeline of Strain

• 2014: Letters start; family relocates to in-laws.
• 2015: Lawsuit filed; renovations halt mid-way.
• 2016: Rental attempt; more whispers.
• 2017: Final letter; case stalls.

By 2019, relief: Sold to Andrew and Allison Carr for $959,000. New owners report peace—no notes. House value? Dipped 30% due to stigma, per Zillow trends.

Legal Battles: Suing for Secrets

Frustrated, Derek and Maria Broaddus sued prior owners, John and Andrea Woods, in 2015. Claim: Fraudulent concealment—they got a “welcome” letter too, hid it.

Court filings:

1. Emotional Distress: Letters caused “severe anxiety,” per affidavits.
2. Damages Sought: Triple purchase price—$4 million.

Woods countered: Their note was harmless, tossed casually. No duty to disclose.

Dismissed 2017: NJ law favors “as-is” sales unless material defects. “Heartbreaking, but law is law,” judge ruled.

Cost? $50,000 in fees. Lesson: Disclose oddities in sales. Today, 657 listings flag the history—transparency boosts trust.

This echoes top articles’ use of lists for clarity, aiding scannability.

Media Storm: From Local News to Netflix Fame

The story leaked in 2015, exploding via New York Magazine’s 2018 “Haunting of 657 Boulevard.” Reeves Wiedeman’s piece—10,000 words—detailed letters verbatim, hitting 5 million views.

Then:

• Lifetime Movie (2016): “The Watcher”—unauthorized, loose plot. Broadduses disliked it.
• Netflix (2022): Ryan Murphy’s series, starring Bobby Cannavale (Derek) and Naomi Watts (Maria). They sold rights with stipends: No real names, altered looks. Viewed by 75 million households (Nielsen).

Impact? House tourism spiked—barricades needed. Derek tweets updates (@deebroadd), seeking closure. “Art imitates life, but truth lingers,” he posted.

Why ranks high? Emotional hooks, like quotes, mirror viral pieces.

Behind the Scenes: Broaddus Input on “The Watcher”

They consulted loosely:

• Changes: Two kids vs. three; older ages for drama.
• No Watch: “Trailer stressed us enough,” Maria said.

Series boosted awareness: Tips to NJ cold case unit rose 20% post-premiere.

Life After The Watcher: Resilience and Recovery

As of 2025, Derek and Maria Broaddus live quietly in Westfield, under an hour from NYC. They own a smaller home, kids in high school—soccer stars, artists. Derek’s at TELUS Health, selling mental health tools. Maria gardens, volunteers at shelters.

Healing steps:

1. Therapy: Weekly sessions unpacked fear.
2. Boundaries: Private LLC hides address.
3. Advocacy: Anonymous blogs on stalking prevention.

No new threats. Carrs thrive at 657—renovations done, kids playing safely. Watcher? Silent, identity unknown.

Their takeaway: “Fear fades; family endures.” Stats: 80% of survivors report growth (APA, 2024).

For local insights, visit Laaster’s community resources—great for NJ families rebuilding.

The House Today: 657 Boulevard’s New Chapter

Sold July 2019, 657 now hosts the Carrs. No letters since. They added smart locks, per neighbors. Value rebounded to $1.1 million (Zillow, 2025), stigma fading.

History:

• Built 1905: Hosted mayors, families.
• Woods Era (1990-2014): Peaceful 23 years.
• Broaddus Void: Empty shell, rented briefly.
• Carr Calm: Kids’ bikes out front.

Tourists gawk, but locals protect privacy. “It’s just a house now,” one said.

Conclusion: Lessons from Derek and Maria Broaddus

Derek and Maria Broaddus turned terror into testimony. From Maine grit to Westfield warmth, their background fueled fightback. The Watcher stole peace but not spirit—selling at loss, staying local, raising kids strong. Their achievements? Surviving unsolved dread, inspiring millions via Netflix, advocating quietly.

This saga reminds: Suburbs hide shadows, but light wins with action. Verify oddities in home buys; report threats fast. Derek and Maria Broaddus prove resilience rebuilds dreams.

What would you do if a letter arrived at your door? Share below—we’re here to discuss safely.

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References

1. Wiedeman, R. (2018). “The Haunting of 657 Boulevard.” New York Magazine.
2. Wikipedia Contributors. (2025). “The Watcher of Westfield, New Jersey.” Wikipedia.
3. TODAY.com. (2022). “The Watcher Real Family: Where the Broadduses Are Now.”
4. House Beautiful. (2022). “Who Lives in the Watcher House Now?”
5. Broaddus, D. (Various). Twitter Posts as @deebroadd.
6. FBI Uniform Crime Reports (2024). Stalking Statistics.
7. Zillow Property Data (2025). 657 Boulevard Valuation.