Paperback: Lotteries have been a part of the United States since its very founding, when tickets to games of chance were sold to help fund the development of some colonies - such as Jamestown, Virginia - and at one point were considered not only a viable way to raise revenue for public causes, but a civically responsible one.
At one time, all thirteen original colonies had a lottery to raise revenue for public services but, in time, the lotteries became riddled with bribery, payout defaults and other corruption. They fell into such disrepute that evangelical reformers were able to successfully press a moral argument for prohibition, and by 1895, government-run lotteries were banned nationwide.
The lottery's official comeback took nearly three quarters of a century, beginning in New Hampshire in 1964. Today, armed with regulations and safeguards, forty-four states, plus the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands, all sponsor lotteries. Only Alabama, Alaska, Hawaii, Mississippi, Nevada and Utah abstain.
Both religious and public policy advocates routinely oppose lotteries - the former usually due to biblical strictures and the latter typically out of concern over the government's reliance on fantasy-fuelled games of chance to fund essential services like public education - but state and multistate lotteries are wildly popular among the masses.
It is estimated that about 120 million American men and women - half of all adults in the country - play state-run lotteries each year, accounting for $45 billion in receipts. Only about 1600 of them will win a million dollars or more.
For instance, in May 2013, Gloria McKenzie, won a jackpot of $590 500 000, the largest in the multistate game's twenty-one-year history and the second largest in the annals of American lotteries. Who isn't inspired by the Missouri couple who, after netting more than $136 000 000 from Powerball, poured loads of money into improving their town, including a new fire station, ball field, sewage-treatment plant and a scholarship fund at their high school alma mater? There is also the story of Sheelah Ryan, of Florida, who used her $55 million winnings in a 1988 lottery to endow a foundation that provided assistance for poor people, single mothers, children, the elderly and homeless animals.
Financial planner Susan Bradley told the Palm Beach Post that she provides the super-high-dollar clients she advises with a team of neuropsychologist, estate-planning attorneys and other professionals to help them navigate the treacherous waters of over-the-top wealth. These teams are meant to help insulate her clients from scam artists, bad investments, tricky temptations and the deluge of hangers-on who typically prey upon the superrich. Bradley has a special set of dos and don'ts for the suddenly and sensationally wealthy.
"One of the first things to do is stop answering the phone," Bradley told the newspaper. "Get a cell phone with a new number and only give it to your inner circle people and keep that circle small."
However, when things go wrong for lottery winners, they can go awfully wrong. News accounts, police files and court records are full of instances where winning was far from the panacea that most people imagine when handing over a few dollars in hopes of collecting a king's ransom.
Like many other winners, the man at the corner of this story neglected to surround himself with wise, experienced counsel but rather relied on old friends and his own well-meaning but often misguided instincts to help him manage his multimillion-dollar winnings. His had been such a simple and obscure existence that he might not have grasped that he was now a celebrity and he certainly did not know how to behave like one. Nothing in his experience would have prepared him for how aggressive people could be when a human treasure chest suddenly appears in their midst. It was a haphazard way to proceed and did nothing to ward off the constant appeals for money from all corners - a pestilence that turned the normally easygoing man into a miserable wreck.
When a stranger came along nearly a year after he won the lottery, not asking for money but offering help, he was eager to take it. She told him about the successful business she ran, about the money she made and convinced him that she could assist him in getting his finances under control. Uneducated, weary and in over his head, he accepted her offer and turned over control of his funds and outstanding accounts to her.
Then he vanished.
Unlucky Number (2015) is the true story of the murder of lottery winner Abraham Shakespeare. It is also the story of the peculiar, egregious connivances of a woman who might have gotten away with her crimes had she not met a man who was more cunning than she. It is a tale of double betrayal of trust, of a man who meant well and of a woman overcome by greed and delusion. It is the sad truth of what happened to a man who beat the long odds of winning a state lottery only to lose his most prized possession - his life.
About the authors: After working as a deadline reporter for twenty-seven years including a seven-year stint as a White House correspondent during the Clinton years, veteran journalist and author Deborah Mathis studied under a Shorenstein Fellowship at Harvard, taught at Northwestern University's prestigious Medill School of Journalism, was communications director at the Public Justice Foundation, wrote a weekly column for BlackAmericaWeb.com and is the author of three books - Yet A Stranger: Why Black Americans Still Don't Feel At Home, What God Can Do and Sole Sisters: The Joys and Pains of Single Black Women.
Gregory Todd Smith is a native of Polk County, Florida. A self-made man, he enjoys a thriving barber practice in Lakeland, Florida.
Deborah Mathis wrote in her Acknowledgements, "On Gregory's behalf, I would also like to thank Sergeants David Wallace, David Clark and Christopher Lynn of the Polk County Sheriff's Office. They entrusted Greg to help them break the case and not only promised to have his back but had it. Their dedication and skill are a tribute to law enforcement. Greg also wishes to thank Polk County sheriff Grady Judd, who committed the manpower and resources it took to ensure that an illiterate, often homeless but kindhearted man's murder did not go unnoticed and unpunished."
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