"A Dash for Loose Cash"

It happened–it really happened–in a poor neighborhood on Detroit’s west side, on Davison Avenue near Linwood. It was a cold, snowy evening on Wednesday, January 10, 1994. Customers were shopping quietly in The Hilton Supermarket when outside the store pandemonium broke loose.

Somebody standing at the check-out counter said, "It’s gotta be a big accident! I can sorta see from here. The cars are stopping all over the place. It looks like a bumper car jam-up at the state fair."

At the same moment a frenzied crowd raving like lunatics rushed into the market! The invaders were shouting to anyone who would listen, "There’s money out there. It’s floating around all over the place. It’s flying on the street, the sidewalks, and in the snow!"

"Everybody’s grabbing what they can."

"I never saw anything like it—it’s money from heaven."

Sahir Abdulnoor, the owner of the market, later described the scene to a newspaper reporter. "The people came rushing into the store looking for grocery bags. They grabbed anything they could find to stuff the cash into. Then all my customers—when they heard the crazy news—went pouring out onto the street."

This money windfall had not come from heaven; it had come tumbling out of a Guardian Armored Security truck, which was on its way back to the company depository. Somehow a bag inside the truck slipped and forced the door latch to come undone. The back doors swung wide open—and there it was—a bountiful surprise for the outside world. Unknown to the security drivers, $1.7 million in cash, checks, and food stamps came pouring out onto the street! It was estimated that at least $400,000 of that load was in cold cash.

Men and women were diving into the slush and snow with both hands and coming up with bills. Motorists who just happened to be driving by at that moment jumped out to join the pedestrians and get their share of the loot. It was an unbelievable scene that belonged on a movie screen, not on a real city street.

Twenty or thirty people swarmed out of a local Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant and joined the mob. Duvel Richardson, a 21-year-old employee of KFC, had been left in charge by his manager. He didn’t dare leave because the restaurant was his responsibility and he was fearful of a robbery.

Duvel saw the whole crazy scene from the drive-through window of the restaurant. "I wanted to get out there so bad," he said wistfully. "Somebody got rich…!" The next day, he found out how much money was scattered on the street. When someone reflected that he should have felt proud of his honesty and his loyalty to his job—he had no reply.

A newspaper reporter said, "Duvel didn’t say a word. He just stood there and looked as if he were about to cry."

The action on the street was over quickly. It had been like a thrilling money dream that many people have experienced in their sleep. The truck trundled on its way, heading toward downtown and the final stop. For the armored guards, it was a day like any other. Unaware of what had taken place in the back of their vehicle, they chatted casually as usual.

A quarter of a mile down the street the drivers of the armored truck noticed a man standing in the middle of the street. He was clearly waving them down. Charley, the driver, said to his co-worker, "I don’t know what this nut wants but he certainly wants us to stop. Either that or he wants to get rundown awful bad."

"I better take my gun out," the other driver decided. "I won’t do anything impulsive but I better get it ready!"

They slowed to a cautious stop as the man flagged down the truck and came around to the driver’s side. This unknown citizen gave the shocking news of their loss. Stunned and disbelieving they pulled over, hoping it was all a cruel joke. They jumped out of the truck to check the back doors. "Good grief, it’s true."

They turned the truck around and went back to the KFC restaurant driving as fast as they dared. They were sweating every inch of the way. Of course it was much too late to rescue the lost funds.

The police arrived on the scene as soon as they heard. They asked the storekeepers and employees what they had observed but there did not seem to be a soul around who knew who had taken the money. The police followed up their inquiries with a house-to-house canvas of the block. They knocked on doors, repeated the story, and asked residents if they had recognized any of the folks who had helped themselves to the money blowing around on the street.

It was reported that every one who was interviewed had heard about the incident but no new information turned up. Police said any person caught with any of the loot would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Included in the money were food stamps and mostly canceled checks. The police recovered about $7,000 of that amount.

Representatives of the Guardian Armored Truck Company declined to make any comment about the episode. Such an occurrence did not inspire confidence among their customers and was mighty bad for business. As could be expected, the wild story made the front page of all the city newspapers. Because of its implications, details of this strange event were widely circulated and discussed all over the city and suburbs by teachers, students, ministers, psychologists, social workers, reporters, and ordinary people. None of the money was returned.

It was noted in the local newspapers that a 1990 census of the community revealed the average household income in that neighborhood was $13,700 a year or $285.42 a week.