One of the first e-mails I received when I got on-line involved Nathan Radlich, his sister, and the late, unlamented Hoochie.
When Nathan Radlich's house was burgled, thieves left his TV, his VCR, and even left his watch. What they did take was "generic white cardboard box filled with greyish-white powder." (That at least is the way the police described it.) A spokesman for the Fort Lauderdale police said "that it looked similar to cocaine and they'd probably thought they'd hit the big time." Then Nathan stood in front of the TV cameras and pleaded with the burglars: "Please return the cremated remains of my sister, Gertrude. She died three years ago."
The next morning, the bullet-riddled corpse of a drug dealer known as Hoochie Pevens was found on Nathan's doorstep. The cardboard box was there too; about half of Gertrude's ashes remained. And there was this note. It said: "Hoochie sold us the bogus blow, so we wasted Hoochie. Sorry we snorted your sister. No hard feelings. Have a nice day."
Since we have determined that my sense of humour is a wee bit to the odd side, it should come as no surprise for the Gentle Reader to discover that I find this incredibly funny -- and since the average criminal mastermind is dumber than a box of rocks, I honestly figured this was a true story.
Alas and alack, I was bipping through the Snopes site this evening and discovered that one of my all time favorite crime stories is an Urban Legend.
Oh, well. It's still funny, even if it didn't actually happen.