SOUTH BEACH SUICIDE … by Lisa Ford
I’ve committed suicide, I’m already dead, I’m fish food, so don’t come looking for me.
I sent this letter to you so you can publish it on your blog. I want everyone to know exactly why I killed myself. I’m sorry for putting you in this position, as you are a good friend who didn’t ask for this crazy drama. But putting my story out there will stop a few more people, like you, from getting killed.
When the full saga hits the news, it won’t be the truth, they will make all types of speculations. Everybody will twiddle their thumbs and wonder what the fuck happened.
Believe it or not, it was all about the money. I needed the money pure and simple. It didn’t appear that way, I know. I lived in that Star Island mansion where we threw our VIP parties. I drove that new Tesla. I had the live-in private chef who made the best ceviche in Miami Beach. I lived that diamond-life, that South Beach fantasy, and so many fake people were along for the ride.
Nobody ever asked me where I got all of that money. Everybody in our cozy little circle made assumptions that I didn’t confirm or deny. They assumed that the “Real Scarface”, or whatever they liked to call my dad, left me millions upon millions of dollars. That wasn’t the case. I’m was never a real heiress. Yes, he was the kingpin of all kingpins who clawed himself here deep from the dirty coffee fields to being labeled the wealthiest Columbian in America. The “Real Scarface” was an urban legend, insanely powerful and insanely rich…until he was murdered, by my uncle. Then my uncle got his dumb ass arrested and locked up forever…now here we are.
Give up my claim to the throne or meet the same fate as the “Real Scarface”, was the choice I was given by the new murdering cartel, who recruited my uncle’s entire team, and probably hired him to kill my dad. There was absolutely no loyalty around me. Zero. They put everybody in my uncle’s army on their payroll, and they paid me every month to sit back and keep my mouth shut. But the money I received wasn’t even a fraction of what I needed to keep up the only lifestyle I knew. I wasn’t giving up the yacht, the houses, the cars, nothing. I lost my entire family over these things and as the sole survivor, I was determined to figure out how to restore my family’s name and rebuild our fortune.
Unfortunately, I trusted the wrong people and made some bad investments with my “hush money”. I asked the new family (I dare not mention their name or they will kill you for publishing it) for more money, but the cartel said I would just piss it all away.
Then came that infamous night when you and I decided to take our asses to David’s boat docked on Bayshore Drive in front of Monty’s. The boat was nice but David?… smh…what an asshole. And my trying to form an alliance with Mateo that night, turned out to be the biggest mistake I’d ever make. Stay the fuck away from Mateo, Lisa. Delete any pics from that night you posted on Instagram. As a matter of fact, stay away from everybody we use to hang with. It’s not worth it.
On that fateful night, after the Monty’s bartenders were done partying with us and hopped off the boat, there were a lot of things at play behind the scenes that you didn’t notice. I kept you in the dark. Looking back, I should have asked if you wanted to be down with it all. But I just couldn’t read you. I didn’t know how much gangster you had in you, if you would have helped or hindered the situation. And I was there on an important mission.
I came on the boat to meet up with and form an alliance with Mateo, the cartel’s golden boy, and David’s so-called best friend. While I was there to convince Mateo to possibly combine our family names, surprisingly, David and his newly signed artist, Brick the lyricist, were there to rob him. David’s plan was dumb as fuck. Who robs someone next in line to run the Columbian mafia? And Brick? Smh…what type of rap name is that? Brick told me that night he got his name from selling cocaine by the bricks. But if you’re in the robbery business, how successful are you in the dope business? Or the music business?
David and Brick hatched a plan to drug me, you, and Mateo, by spiking our drinks. I overheard them whispering about it as I sat silently on the toilet inside the tiny bathroom on the bottom level of the boat. They were down there bragging that once we all are knocked out cold, their plan would be carried out with ease.
David and Brick would grab Mateo’s car keys, drive to Mateo’s mansion where he kept bags of newly washed money under his bed, and take all the money for themselves. Who in their right mind would keep cash money under a freakin’ bed? And why in the hell would Mateo tell David about the money?
While back on deck, I kept my eyes on Brick and on that bottle of premium Tequila he was holding. When he thought no one was paying any attention, Brick began pouring a long tube of clear liquid into the bottle. From what I could see, it was definitely enough poison to knock us out, even kill us. I didn’t know for sure. All I knew is I wasn’t going to drink any of it.
Lisa, as you gulped down those tequila shots, one by one, I only pretended to drink the tequila. And when you and Mateo passed out cold, I pretended to be knocked out along with you. I kept my eyes tightly shut and I heard those assholes laughing, giggling, and making fun of us…not realizing I was awake the whole time and not knowing they were on a death mission to rob the mob. Mateo couldn’t hide his massive wealth from people, as it was known he was the legitimate heir to one of the biggest tobacco companies in the world. But I’m sure Mateo hid the fact that he was in the Mafia. I was the only one in our circle who knew the truth about Mateo.
I kept pretending to be asleep so I could listen in on the rest of David’s and Brick’s ratchet plan. It included returning to the boat, after they had the money in hand, to establish their alibi. Mateo wouldn’t suspect his “friends”, David and Brick, because we all partied on the boat together all night until the next morning. Their plan was to wake us up and act as if they’ve never left. You and Mateo didn’t wake up right away. These guys were really sick and twisted. Lisa, I’m sorry that I let that happen to you… but at least you didn’t die, right?
I “woke up” and pretended to be druggy and groggy when I told David I had to grab a tampon from out of my car. I had hoped the money he stole was still in the trunk of Mateo’s car and haven’t been moved yet. On my way off the boat, I lifted the keys to Mateo’s Maserati near the boat’s steering wheel to check the status of the stash and I was right. The dummies didn’t take the money out of his trunk yet, probably because they were anxious to see if Mateo was still asleep.
Instinctively, I grabbed all three duffle bags as fast as I could and placed the money in my trunk. The bags were huge and heavy as hell so it had to be at least a couple of million dollars total in cash. It was then time to leave immediately. I had to return Mateo’s keys and get the fuck out of there as fast as I could.
Back at the boat, you had finally woke up, which was a good thing because I didn’t want to have to leave you behind. In sheer panic mode, I helped you off of the boat quickly before David or Brick decided it was time to move that money. I made up a lame excuse as to why you and I had to leave suddenly. I told them your boyfriend was blowing up your phone and I had to get you home to avoid any confrontations. And poof, we were out of there.
A few days later, David and Brick vanished into thin air. No one heard from them or ever saw them again. David must have called my phone 100 times after we left the boat, I didn’t answer because he probably suspected I had the money. David had a nice sleek recording studio on the South of fifth in South Beach, that was completely ransacked and destroyed during this time. As reported on the local news, there were no signs of a break-in or forced entry, but there were multiple sets of sandy footprints and signs of a struggle.
There was no doubt in my mind that Mateo found out what they did with the hidden cameras he kept everywhere on his property. He kept his own home bugged and recorded everything at all times. David dodged the cameras hidden in plain site, I’m sure of that. But he and Brick didn’t know about the tiny cameras that were invisible to the naked eye. I knew about those cameras, which is why I stayed behind on the boat and waited.
Even though my bills were due, I decided not to spend any of the money at first. I grew very paranoid once David, Brick, some of their friends, and family members, were getting whacked off one by one. Mateo wasted no time calling in the goons and he wasn’t taking any phone calls from anyone, including me. Did he think me and you had something to do with it? Did he consider us the decoys? Boy was I scared and I was losing my mind because I didn’t know where you and I stood in this whole mess.
Did I really get away with taking a clean 3 mil from the cartel? It was all so simple yet mind altering. I knew I would get away with it but paranoia was overtaking me like a thief in the night. Was I being watched? Mateo was an expert at surveilliance and certainly had the means. I really wanted to speak to him to be given the clearance to relax. If he wasn’t mad at me, then everything was all good. But there was no communication from Mateo after several weeks had gone by.
I popped my first band from the stash and ironically, bought a small brick of coke. Bad idea. I stayed high as as a kite as I searched for clues to see if the cartel knew I was in on the robbery, and I grew more and more schizo about it. If the cartel would have stopped my hush money payments, that would have been a sure sign I was busted, but the payments kept coming. So I was completely in the dark.
Yet and still, I remained isolated from just about everybody. After David’s and Brick’s disappearance, all of us in the circle stopped hanging around and stopped talking to each other. Lisa, you came by to the mansion to visit from time to time, but not as often as you used to. I eventually found out Mateo left the country and was in Columbia. At this point, I considered using the money to buy and start my own new cartel in Miami. But would this move alarm the current cartel and make me an instant robbery suspect? There would be a war as soon as my new family was formed and we would lose that war. We would be skinned alive and slaughtered.
I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place and I kept getting high off the coke because there was nothing else I could do. Lisa, they say it takes strength to kill yourself but it takes a lot of strength not to because it’s not really you that’s ending your life. It’s a force that comes over you like a ghost or spirit that whispers to you constantly, reminding you of all the reasons why you should die. And as I write this, I can’t fight off that spirit of death anymore. I am certain that it’s my time to die.
I have no friends left. It seemed as if everyone knew I was the mastermind behind the whole robbery incident that have gotten so many people killed. I felt people whispering about me behind my back. So…it was a just matter of time before I committed to committing suicide.
By the time you receive this letter, you’ll realize that’s exactly what I did. And the cartel can search for me until the end of time, they won’t find me or the money.
I stole David’s boat during the last big storm and drove it to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I have a sharp razor in my hand. I’m about to slit my wrists then jumped off. I was in way over my head and made some decisions that can not be reversed. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have stuck around so long waiting on the ball to drop. I would have just taken the money and disappeared to another country too.
Lisa, it was nice knowing you.
Copyright © Lisa Ford 2017 All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Music by Ben Hansen. Click Here for information.
To be published on lisafordblog.com email [email protected]