TWINS DISAPPEARED AT DISNEY PARK IN 1985 — 28 YEARS LATER, SOMETHING DISTURBING WAS FOUND | HO

Anaheim, CA — On a sweltering afternoon in July 1985, the happiest place on earth became the site of one of its darkest mysteries. Mariana and Liliana Chen, 12-year-old identical twins, vanished from Disneyland California in broad daylight.

Their disappearance sparked a media firestorm, a sprawling police investigation, and decades of rumor and speculation. For 28 years, the case remained unsolved—until a disturbing discovery beneath the park’s surface forced the world to confront the reality behind the fairytale.

A Family’s American Dream Turns to Nightmare

Fernanda Chen arrived in California in 1982, a widow seeking a new start for her daughters after tragedy claimed her husband in their native Guangzhou. She toiled night shifts in a Los Angeles textile factory, saving every dollar for her girls. By 1985, she had a single goal: to give Mariana and Liliana a birthday they would never forget at Disneyland.

On July 15, 1985, the Chens stepped through the park’s gates. The twins wore matching pink shirts, blue denim overalls, and bright yellow ribbons tied by their mother that morning. They laughed, skipped, and posed for photos, their excitement as vivid as the California sun.

Their last known photograph, snapped at 3:07 p.m., shows them grinning on either side of Mickey Mouse. Minutes later, Fernanda left the girls with the costumed character to use a nearby restroom. When she returned, the girls—and Mickey—were gone.

A Vanishing Act in Plain Sight

At first, Fernanda believed the girls had wandered off. But as minutes ticked by, confusion turned to panic. Within 20 minutes, Disney security was mobilized. Rides around Tomorrowland halted. Announcements echoed across the park. Guests and staff fanned out, searching every corner.

Witnesses recalled seeing the twins following Mickey toward the arcade. Others placed them near the Space Mountain tunnel. Yet, in the era before comprehensive surveillance, there was no clear footage. No one saw the girls leave the park, and no employee in a Mickey costume was recorded exiting. When security checked the roster, every performer was accounted for—except one.

The Mickey Mouse who posed with the Chen twins did not match any scheduled cast member. His costume was slightly off: faded fabric, gloves stitched at the fingertips, and a height that didn’t fit anyone on staff. Someone had impersonated Mickey Mouse and lured the twins away.

A Case Grows Cold

The Anaheim Police Department launched one of the largest investigations in its history. The FBI was called in. Disney executives, desperate to protect the company’s image, opened their records. Yet every lead fizzled. No ransom note appeared. No bodies were found. The only evidence was a single, now-infamous photograph.

As weeks became months, the case faded from headlines. The “Disneyland Twins” became a symbol of loss and unresolved trauma. Fernanda Chen refused to leave California or declare her daughters legally dead. Every year, on July 15, she left two yellow ribbons at the park entrance—a silent vigil for the girls she’d lost.

2013: A Chilling Discovery Beneath the Park

In February 2013, Disneyland was preparing for a major renovation of Tomorrowland. Contractors were tasked with removing old drainage systems, some untouched since the early 1980s. Just after midnight on February 17, workers uncovered a sealed concrete shaft beneath a utility corridor. Inside, wedged against a rusted grate, was something that would reopen the Chen case: a human head, mummified by time and encased in a faded Mickey Mouse mask.

Forensics confirmed the remains belonged to a male in his late 40s, dead since the mid-1980s. The mask was not a replica, but a professional-grade costume piece. DNA linked the remains to Robert Ellis, a former Disneyland cast member who disappeared in 1981. The timeline didn’t add up—Ellis vanished four years before the Chen twins. If he was dead, who wore the Mickey costume in 1985?

The Prop Cellar and the Costume Room

Detective Natalyia Reeves, newly promoted and obsessed with the cold case, was assigned to the re-opened investigation. Two weeks after the grisly discovery, she received an anonymous letter: “The others are still below, behind the old prop cellar, door 3C. Ask for the keys Disney never logged.”

Disney’s archives referenced a “prop cellar,” a sublevel storage area sealed in the 1970s. On March 5, 2013, Reeves and a forensic team entered the forgotten corridor. Behind a rusted door labeled 3C, they found a chilling scene: dust-covered mannequins, rotting crates, and five full character costumes—including a strange, off-color Mickey suit. Inside its lining were bone fragments and hair belonging to a child aged 10–13.

DNA confirmed the remains were Liliana Chen’s. After 28 years, her fate was finally known—not buried in a grave, but hidden in a costume meant to entertain.

Room Zero: The Secret Below Fantasyland

Three weeks later, Reeves received a cryptic email: “Room Zero was real. I was there in 1985. The twins were not the first.” Attached was a photo of a concrete hallway ending in a heavy metal door stenciled “RZ01.” Old maintenance staff recalled rumors of an abandoned tunnel beneath Fantasyland, sealed after budget cuts in the late 1970s.

On April 11, 2013, Reeves led a team into the tunnel. Behind the door, they found a 30-foot chamber lit by flickering fluorescent tubes. On the wall, eight names were scrawled in faded marker—six crossed out, two not: Liliana and Mariana. The room held scraps of fabric, children’s shoes, and a battered tape player emitting distorted Disney songs.

In a trapdoor compartment, investigators found a wooden box containing a child’s femur. DNA confirmed it belonged to Mariana Chen. Both twins had been hidden beneath Disneyland for nearly three decades.

The Face Behind the Mask

The investigation broke wide open when Dennis Laroo, a former Disneyland maintenance subcontractor, was arrested on an unrelated charge. During booking, his fingerprints flagged a sealed file from the 1980s. When questioned about July 1985, Laroo became erratic, muttering about tunnels and costumes.

A search of his home revealed a horrifying archive: Polaroids of children in character dressing rooms, fragments of Disney costumes, and a diary detailing his obsession with the park’s tunnels. One entry, dated July 16, 1985, read: “The twins were perfect. They smiled. They trusted me. The tunnels are mine now. Room Zero keeps secrets.”

Maps found in Laroo’s home led investigators to a hidden chamber lined with one-way mirrors, used to observe ride queues. Here, Laroo had selected his victims, hiding in plain sight beneath the park.

Aftermath and Unanswered Questions

Laroo was declared unfit for trial and institutionalized. Fernanda Chen died in 2016, two years after finally laying her daughters to rest. Disneyland sealed the tunnels and denied any knowledge of their purpose. Yet, for those who worked there, the whispers remain—of costumed figures seen after hours, of doors that lead nowhere, and of the time Mickey’s smile seemed just a little too wide.

For nearly three decades, the Disneyland twins haunted the park’s legend. Their story is a reminder that even in places built for joy, darkness can linger just beneath the surface. And sometimes, the happiest place on earth hides the most disturbing secrets.