One time, Earl Marlowe, my hoodoo mentor, told me about a young woman called Grace, from Texas, who was head-over-heels in love with a DJ working out of her city. He was a good looking guy who had all the girls chasing him. But he singled out Grace and asked her out on a date.
Grace was overjoyed. Her heart jumped all the way over to Alabama and back. On the first date, they hit it off like they were made for each other. The relationship seemingly went from strength to strength. But six months down the line, the DJ starts playing around with the girls at the clubs he was DJing at.
Soon enough, word got to Grace. She was devastated and spent three days crying. On the fourth day, however, Grace went over to her bank and drew out $1,000 in cash. She took the money to a local voodoo worker and instructed him to kill the DJ.
“If you kill him before the month is out,” she said, “I’ll pay you another thousand dollars.”
This was the 1970s. So a couple of grand was worth more then.
Two weeks went by. Nothing happened. By this time, Grace had grown hard. All her sweetness had drained away.
The DJ carried on playing around and was fast becoming a big man on the club circuit.
Grace went back to the voodoo worker. “He’s not dead yet,” she said.
Waving aside the worker’s excuses, she said: “I’ll give you two thousand dollars more if you finish him off before two weeks are up. That’s four thousands dollars in total.”
The voodoo worker thought for a moment, then said: “I will use my most powerful spell to fix him for good. By noon tomorrow he will be stone cold dead.”
So the next day, the voodoo worker went over to the DJ’s house and shot him through the head with a thirty-eight.
Grace never did pay him. She called the cops and he ended up on a murder rap.
As Grace said: “I didn’t pay to have him shot dead. I paid to have him hoodoo’d to death.”