By Ron Stodghill
Lance Herndon was once on the most sensible of his online game in 1996. At age 41 he was once a self-made millionaire, the landlord of entry, Inc., a profitable information-systems consulting corporation. As a well-known member of Atlanta's younger, prosperous, and robust set, he was once surrounded via black Atlanta's ''beautiful people.'' but if he didn't appear for paintings sooner or later, family and friends began to fear. Their fear quickly became to horror whilst he used to be chanced on murdered in his own residence, his head smashed in—in what seemed to be both an act of jealousy-fueled rage or a seedier intercourse crime. With a laundry checklist of ex-wives and fanatics, rivals, critics, and admirers in hand, detectives needed to holiday in the course of the city's top crust to find his killer. Journalist Ron Stodghill tells the riveting, real tale of this research.
half investigative mystery, half sociological observation, Redbone bargains a very interesting tale that channels perception into one in all America's nice metropolises.
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Additional info for Redbone: The Millionaire and the Gold Digger
Whoever the perp was, there was no sign of forced entry. There were also no significant witnesses yet. He had started questioning the mother, the grandmother, and a couple of women who worked in the house in an office downstairs. Anastasio followed Sam House as he walked up the driveway. House’s sharp eyes scanned the ground for evidence. He paused at the four-car garage. One of its doors was open several inches off the pavement. House peered inside to find a silver Jaguar, a blue Porsche, and a tan Volvo.
Still, Sperry believed that this confusing wound came first because it was the only injury back there. He figured Herndon might have been in the process of turning around, which meant the next part of his head exposed was likely the right temple area. There were certainly a few blows right there—not too many, maybe three or four. Still, it was probably the blow to the back of the head, coupled with those to the right temple, that rendered him unconscious. So then, what actually killed him? Anastasio asked.
But then on one occasion, Lance invited Crooks out. They met up with Jacques Albright. As it turned out, Jacques and Crooks knew each other from the black ski summit each year. Crooks had been skiing in the New York club, and Jacques was in the Atlanta club. The fact that Crooks already knew Jacques created a kind of instant bond between Lance and Crooks. Lance did not let people into his world easily; he was gracious and gentlemanly, but closed off in other ways. In the early days of their friendship, Lance began introducing Ken Crooks to his Atlanta, a city teeming with ambitious blacks who had relocated there from across the country.