The Detroit Pistons’ Deadly Curse

The Detroit Pistons’ Deadly Curse

-With Lindy Waters III becoming
a member of the Detroit Pistons, you’ve probably heard
some mention online of the Detroit Pistons curse — specifically, a curse that says any Native American basketball player
that joins the Detroit Pistons will die in their 30s
due to some drowning accident. Is this true? Is this a curse, a conspiracy,
or just coincidence? Stick around as we talk about
the story and history of this curse to see if Lindy Waters needs
to be afraid of the water. Ha-ha. On February 11th, 2025,
Lindy Waters III made his debut as a member of the Detroit Pistons,
and, in doing so, became the fourth Native American
to play for the team. The Kiowa American is one
of the several Natives to have played in the NBA,
joining a decorated list that also includes
former all-stars and champions such as John Starks,
Aaron Gordon, and Kyrie Irving, to name a few. For professional athletes,
the term “legacy” is often connected with the achievements of high esteem, whether it be the “fan favorite”
or “greatest of all time.” However, the legacy
of Native Americans playing for the Detroit Pistons
is an ominous one. That is because every Native American
who has played for the Detroit Pistons has suffered tragic,
water-related deaths. So, let’s back up and give some history. The first Native American
to play for the Detroit Pistons was actually the first to play in the NBA. Phil Jordon of Northern California showed an athletic prowess
for basketball at an early age. Of Wailaki and Nomlaki descent, his athleticism earned Jordon
an athletic scholarship to Whitworth College —
now Whitworth University — in Spokane, Washington. Ironically, Jordon’s mom
was over six feet tall, but her maiden name was “Short.” On the court,
Phil Jordon was ambidextrous and could score at-will
with either hand. He was given the nickname “The Flash” for how quickly he could move
through the other team’s defense. Jordon made his professional debut after being drafted
by the New York Knicks in the 1956 season. Over the course
of his seven-year career — which included stints
with the Saint Louis Hawks, the Cincinnati Royals,
and the Detroit Pistons — he averaged nearly 11 points
and 9 rebounds per game, playing alongside legends like
Oscar Robertson and Lenny Wilkins, and going toe-to-toe against
Bill Russell and Wilt Chamberlain. If you know nothing about basketball, just imagine that those names
mean something to you. Infamously, Jordon is best remembered
for a game he didn’t even show up for. On March the 2nd, of 1962, the Philadelphia Warriors
beat the New York Knicks 169-147. I guess both teams just decided that day
that defense was optional. History was made that day
as Wilt Chamberlain, one of the all time greats,
set the single-game scoring record with a 100-point performance. Phil Jordon, who would normally
have been responsible for guarding Wilt,
did not play. According to American author
and journalist Gary Pomerantz, Jordon was in no condition to suit up due to him spending the previous day
drinking a whole case of beer while celebrating his teammate Sam Stith, whose wife was delivering
their first child. Jordon later went out that evening
with another teammate, Donnie Butcher. Now, Pomerantz’s account was disputed
by fellow Knicks player Willie Nauls, stating that Jordon’s absence
was because of illness. Now, regardless
of the conflicting accounts, Jordon was known as a drinker and partier during his tenure
as a professional athlete. Jordon played his last NBA game
on April the 7th, 1963, and retired after the season. He moved to Tacoma, Washington, and lived there until he tragically
lost his life two years later. In June of 1965,
Jordon fell into the Puyallup River after his raft broke apart. His three raft-mates were able
to swim to safety, but the 6’10” Jordon did not. It took nearly a month
for authorities to find his body. Now, it’s unclear why the men were
out on the water at 10:00 PM, but it’s reported that
Jordon was “testing” the raft before the accident occurred. His family’s version of events
was that it happened in preparation for a race
that he would do annually. According to his niece, Lisa Jordon, “Something happened to the raft,
and he didn’t make it to shore.” On January the 5th of 2025,
Phil Jordon was posthumously honored by the Golden State Warriors
with the Golden State Impact Award, which recognizes individuals who have made
a significant impact to their communities or have broken barriers
in their respective fields. Despite his untimely death
and off-court challenges, Jordon’s legacy will be remembered
as being a trailblazer for his community. Now, on its own,
the story is simply a tragedy that happened to a seasoned athlete. But what’s odd is the similar events
that would happen later. The second Native player
for the Detroit Pistons was born Lloyd Leslie Dove Jr.
on August 16th, 1945. Given the nickname “Sonny,” his mother was of
the Mashpee Wampanoag tribe, so, by tradition, her children belonged
to the tribe as well. After moving to the Mecca of basketball —
New York City — Dove picked up the sport
and developed an incredible jumpshot and always found a way to the basket,
which made him a highly skilled rebounder. As a result, the 6’7″ forward
earned a full basketball scholarship to St. John’s University in Queens, which would become a thematic haven
for Dove throughout his life. Dove was known by his teammates for always laughing
and being full of life, and he played three seasons at St. John’s, averaging 19 points per game. After three seasons,
Dove went to the NBA draft and was selected
as the fourth overall pick in 1967, by — you guessed it —
the Detroit Pistons. Dove spent two
unproductive seasons in Detroit, averaging less than 5 points per game, before joining the New York Nets
of the ABA in 1969, which, at the time, was a rival league
of sports to the NBA. The fact that you didn’t know
what that was until I had to tell you shows how that rivalry went. The change of scenery
and returning to his home city proved beneficial for Dove, which led him to a pair
of successful seasons, averaging nearly 15 points per game. And during the ’70 to ’71 season, Dove played alongside
future basketball legend Rick Barry, as well as reunited
with his former coach from St. John’s, Lou Carnesecca. Unfortunately, the 1971 season
would be Dove’s last, and he would never play in the NBA again when the ABA merged in 1976. That’s because, in 1972,
a bicycle accident shattered Dove’s leg, ending his career
as a professional basketball player. He needed a career change, but was 30 credits short
of a college degree. So, Dove returned to the place
where he excelled — St. John’s. He eventually graduated
with a bachelor’s in communications. After graduating, Dove worked
in sports radio as a broadcaster, and in the 1980s,
he was the color commentator for St. John’s basketball games. However, the gig didn’t pay much,
so to supplement his income, he also worked a second job
as a taxicab driver. When his former coach, Carnesecca,
found out about Dove’s part time gig, he wasn’t thrilled, especially since Dove was
still in the limelight and somewhat of a public figure. I mean, imagine if, like, LeBron James
broke his leg on a motorcycle, and then, he was your Uber driver one day. You’d probably feel bad for the guy. I mean, granted,
LeBron has enough money now, I’m sure that he wouldn’t have to do that. But you get my point. So, Dove wanted the taxicab thing
to be temporary, but as he was waiting
for this opportunity, he still had responsibilities. And despite being separated
from his wife, he wanted to be a good father
to his daughter, Zana, who was living with him at the time. So, credit where it’s due —
despite where Dove came from, he didn’t think himself too “good” to work a job
to support his daughter. Dove seemed to fall into the trap that a lot of professional
sports players did at the time, where they either spent
all of their salary or lent it to family members. And to combat this, Dove would often
advise high school students to question college recruiters
about their education, hoping that they would avoid
the same fiscal woes that befell him. So, it seems the Dove wasn’t
only a great athlete, but a stand-up guy — which makes what happened
to him all the more tragic. Dove’s final game as a radio broadcaster was for St. John’s victory over
Big East Conference rival Georgetown on Wednesday, February the 9th. On a snowy Valentine’s night in 1983, 37-year-old Dove drove his cab
onto the Hamilton Avenue Bridge, headed west towards
the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. This bridge is one of New York City’s
24 moveable bridges, and this one in particular
is the first canal crossing north of the Gowanus Bay. That evening,
the drawbridge was partially open to let a vessel pass through, and due to the dangerous road conditions, the Department of Transportation
sent a bridge attendant with a lantern to alert motorists
that the bridge was open. Another important reason
for the attendant’s presence was due to the fact that the bridge’s
protective gate was inoperable because of a power failure that caused the gate
to be out of order for a couple of days. This combination of factors
led to tragedy, as, around 9:45 PM,
Dove tried to apply his brakes when he realized
the drawbridge was raised, but it was too late. He skidded off the bridge
and fell 25 feet into the canal’s ten feet of water. Unfortunately, Dove did not see
the bridge attendant, who had to jump out of the way. And, I mean, you can’t really blame him. It’s 1983, and the dude has a lantern. Like, where did he even find a lantern? We had television… and, like, LED lights and microwaves. And th– the guy found,
like, an oil lantern? [laughs]
Was he on a horse? When the first police units arrived
on the scene, they saw bubbles in the canal
and notified emergency service divers, who pulled Dove from the water
30 minutes after the crash. He was later pronounced dead
around 3:00 AM at Long Island College Hospital. Dove’s daughter Zana
and his estranged wife Patricia, from whom he was separated, filed a $1 million damage suit
against New York City in compensation and punitive damage, but ultimately settled for $750,000. And, yes, if the City of New York
said it was okay for that guy to have a lantern,
I would sue, too. Dove was honored posthumously
by his alma mater and inducted into
the St. John’s Athletics Hall of Fame, the New York City Basketball Hall of Fame, and St. Francis Prep Ring of Honor, cementing his legacy as one
of the city’s best homegrown talents. As with anything,
once is an occurrence, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern, which leads us on to our next tragedy. The most recent Native American
to play for the Detroit Pistons is arguably the most successful
and well known due to the fact that he won
a coveted NBA championship with the Chicago Bulls, playing alongside
Hall of Famers Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, and Dennis Rodman. However, after retiring from the NBA, he was never seen again. Bison Dele,
born Brian Carson Williams, was the second son of Patricia Phillips and singer Eugene Williams Jr. of the American R&B
soul music group, The Platters. Naturally, his first passion was music,
as you could imagine, playing instruments
like the violin and trumpet. Williams initially favored
track and field, until a growth spurt in high school — at Bishop Gorman High School
in Las Vegas — pushed him towards basketball. He played one year
at the University of Maryland before transferring
to the University of Arizona, where he averaged 12 points per game. This 6’11” center declared
for the draft after his junior year and was selected by the Orlando Magics as a 10th pick in the first round. Williams had an unspectacular start as a professional basketball player. He saw limited playing time in Orlando, where he may have started to realize he didn’t love the game
as much as he thought he did. His teammate Tom Tolbert
once saw Williams crying while reading a biography of Miles Davis. Upon asking why he was crying, Williams told Talbot
that he just wished to have the same passion for basketball
that Miles had for music. Williams’ emotional state
might have been an early indication of issues with his mental health. The Magic sidelined Williams
because of clinical depression, and in October of 1992,
he attempted suicide by nearly overdosing on sleeping pills. Although he was not committed
to a hospital, Williams admitted
that he felt “drugged up” in the following days. Prior to the incident,
Williams had suffered from fainting spells,
and even collapsed during practice while guarding future star
Shaquille O’Neal, which prompted the team
to take him off the active roster. Williams, not Shaquille. On his way to a workout,
the Magic center blacked out and crashed his car into
a concrete column of an overpass. Luckily, Williams was not injured. After undergoing a series
of neurological and cardiological tests, the team’s medical staff
did not find any serious heart problems. Being such a highly touted prospect, Williams took this
bizarre physical reaction personally, unable to find reason
to why he was having these setbacks. The team tried their best
to help Williams cope, but after two seasons,
their relationship had run its course. He joined the Denver Nuggets
in the ’93 to ’94 season and played a career-high 80 games. Averaging 8 points a game,
he stayed with the team for another season before joining
the Los Angeles Clippers in 1995. It seemed like his career was progressing
in the way one might hope, as he averaged
nearly 16 points per game — easily the best season
of his career thus far. Unfortunately, Williams would
end up sitting out most of the following season
due to a contract dispute. See, it doesn’t matter
if you’re in movie-making, or sports, or writing, or whatever —
the attorneys will always get you. This free-spirited artist
trapped in an NBA player was best encapsulated
by a story recounted by Pete Serrano, who was the Clippers’
equipment manager at the time. One day, while the team had an off-day
in Dallas one afternoon, Williams called Serrano
to meet him in the hotel lobby. When Serrano got there,
he saw a helicopter in the parking lot, as well as another Clipper,
Mark Sealey, who Williams had convinced
to join him for a ride. The three of them, including the pilot, spent nearly five hours
in the air over Texas. Williams was not the type of person
to spend the day in his hotel room. He had to get out and see things. It’s such an interesting case,
because he was good at basketball and seemed to be adored by a lot
of people while he was doing it, but it doesn’t seem like
his heart was always in it — that there were these
greater passions for the world he wanted to come across,
and it led to a lot of personal turmoil. Williams played basketball
not out of love for the game, but out of necessity. Like most professional athletes,
the role of provider was thrust onto him. His parents were divorced,
and his older brother, born Kevin Williams,
was constantly asking for money. As Williams’ stint
with the Clippers came to a close, another door opened. The Chicago Bulls needed
a big man for their playoff run, and it was none other
than Michael Jordan — arguably the greatest
basketball player of all time — who wanted Brian Williams to help the team
get another championship. The Bulls signed Williams in April of ’97, and he played the final nine games
of the regular season for them as a backup center
behind Australian Luc Longley. Coming off the bench,
Williams averaged 7 points per game, but was a force for them
in rebounding and defense. In Game 5 of the
Eastern Conference Semifinals against the Atlantic Hawks, Williams scored 12 points
and had 10 rebounds to help Chicago move
into the Eastern Conference Finals. In the finals against the Utah Jazz, Williams was crucial
in the minutes he played, serving as another big body to go up against
league MVP Karl Malone. In Game 3, Williams scored 16 points and had six rebounds, and multiple Bulls players
have cited Williams as a major factor behind them
repeating as champions. Williams had finally reached
the pinnacle of the sport, and as a result,
he was offered a lucrative deal from the Detroit Pistons — $50 million for seven years. As you can imagine, he took it. During his first year as a Piston, Williams posted career highs
in points and rebounds. Although the team had
a disappointing season — just missing the playoffs —
things were looking good for Williams. Maybe he had finally found
his passion for the game. Before the 1998 season, Williams did something
that some athletes had done before and many had done after —
he changed his name. Following in the footsteps
of Cassius Clay, Lew Alcindor, and even Ron Artest — who respectively changed their names
to Muhammad Ali, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Meta World Peace — Williams changed his name to Bison Dele to honor his Native American
and African heritage. The bison have been integral
to the survivor and culture of many Native tribes,
not only for their food, but also shelter, clothing,
tools, and spiritual significance, and Dele is a common surname
in many African nations. The 1998 season was cut short
due to a lockout — the third of four lockouts
in the history of the NBA — and rather than a usual start date
around October, the regular season began
in February of ’99. During the truncated regular season,
Dell averaged over 10 points and five rebounds per game. The team made it to the playoffs, but lost in the first round
to the Atlanta Hawks, where Dele had his hands full
battling against Dikembe Mutombo. Now, Dele was extremely generous. Even before he was one of the team’s
highest-paid players, he’d routinely give his playoff share — which by that time
was more than $100,000 — to ball boys or clubhouse attendants. Much like his former teammate
Dennis Rodman, Dell seemed to relate better
with the staff rather than the players themselves. When the Pistons’
longtime secretary was leaving, Williams invited her to his home, where he cooked her dinner
and gave her $10,000. He even gave his coach, Doug Collins, and the team’s executive Christmas gifts, which is unheard of. He gave each executive
a pair of hand-knitted wool socks. I’m just kidding. He actually gave them
handcrafted crystal sculptures formed into the Pistons’
iconic horse logo. Which was pretty cool and all,
but you liked the socks better. Admit it. Despite these positive qualities,
Dell also had some… shall we say, “interesting” flashes
of concerning behavior. The worst of these came
when the team was returning home on a chartered flight
during the 1999 season. As the flight was mid-air,
Bison suddenly stood up, walked over to the front of the plane, and actually attempted to pull open
the emergency exit hatch while flying at an altitude
of over 30,000 feet. I don’t even know, like, how you would
prepare for that kind of thing. You’re on a flight with a bunch
of your boys coming back from a game, and it’s like,
“Hey Dele, where are you going? Dele?”
[laughs] Alarming his teammates and team staff, several of them stood up to stop him
before Dell suddenly stopped on his own. Allegedly, he told them
he “wanted to see something.” [laughs]
Which is a crazy way to describe ripping open the emergency exit door
at 30,000 feet. But the pilot assured him
that opening the door at that altitude was not advisable nor possible. According to past teammates,
this wasn’t the first time Dele had done something like this. He apparently had
attempted something similar during his tenure with the Bulls. Now, we don’t know
explicitly what this was — if it was another plane
with another emergency exit hatch, or if it was just something else that would potentially put
other team members in danger. But, regardless, this seemed
to be self-destructive behavior. And while, earlier, he did things
like consuming sleeping pills in an attempt to harm himself, now he was doing things
risky enough to harm others, as well. The 1999 NBA season would be the last time
Dele played basketball ever again. There were probably many factors
that led to his decision. Maybe it was the shortened season
with all the time off, showing him what a life removed
from basketball might look like. I mean, after all, he had already proven
to himself and the world that he had the talent and skills
to reach the highest levels of the sport. With that, Dele informed the Pistons
he was retiring. They asked him to stay. They needed his skills for their roster. They also owed him more than $30 million. Even if he didn’t want to play, Dele could have easily
hung around the team, phoned it in,
and collected an easy paycheck with 82 games a year. I mean, he even could have
faked or milked an injury — something that is somewhat
of a problem in the NBA today — and been paid to sit on the bench
and work out. But, regardless, Dele told the team
that he didn’t want the money. True to his nature,
Bison Dele wanted to explore and to experience everything life had
to offer outside of basketball. And that he did. Dele was a part owner of a friend’s
water purification plant in Beirut, where he spent several months. In Pamplona, he ran with the bulls —
the real bulls. Not the basketball team this time. He wrote poetry
while exploring the Australian outback and learned how to sail, eventually buying a catamaran
in early 2000. Dele named the boat “Hakuna Matata,” a misspelling of the Swahili phrase
that means “no worries” — something I’m sure everyone
who watched “Lion King” is familiar with. The vessel was over 50 feet long, contained several bedrooms, a kitchen, and a living area that Dele furnished with a wrap-around padded couch,
beanbags, and a TV. He had a rotating cast
of captains, mates, and travel partners as he sailed the South Pacific
from Australia to Papua New Guinea. He’d finally found the peace of mind
he had struggled to find throughout his career. However, what did seem to follow him
from his days of basketball was a dark shadow that he could
never escape — his older brother. Kevin Williams was bor
three years before Dele, and although he grew to be 6’8,” asthma dashed any hopes
of a life in athletics. While Dele was more sociable
and naturally curious like his father, Kevin took on the traits of his mother — socially awkward
and extremely sensitive. While Dele excelled as a collegiate
and professional athlete, Kevin was not so blessed. He attended De Anza College in Cupertino,
but never graduated. His asthma had gotten so severe,
he had to take steroids. At time, the boy’s mother,
Patricia, had to take him to the E.R. It was Dele who paid
his older brother’s medical bills and, at times, watched over him. However, Kevin was liable
to spurts of anger and was known to be a heavy drinker. Dele would often hear from Kevin
every couple of months with a new scheme to get rich. As much as Dele tried
to distance himself from his family, his generosity always bore through. He bought his mother a house
and spent around $80,000 to put her through school at UCLA. Twice, Dele gave his brother Kevin
$50,000 as a gift. After his first season in the NBA, his father worked as a limo driver
and lounge singer in Las Vegas while also battling a cocaine addiction. When Dele surprised his father with a $15,000 brand new
Harley Davidson in his driveway, his father told him
to give him cash next time. It is very tragic, and I have a lot of sympathy for Dele
the more I learn about him. He seemed to be a kid
that was really interested in the arts and music,
but he was good at basketball, and, honestly, there was more money in it. So, he goes to do that,
and he makes a lot of money, and he pays for his brother’s
hospital bills. He pays to put his mom through school. He pays to buy his dad nice things. But, at every point,
they want more and more. They get angry at him,
and they just want cash instead of gifts or thoughtfulness. And Dele continues to support them
because, you know, it’s his family. What else can he do? And then, you see a lot
of the self-destructive behaviors that Dele was showing to his teammates
or to people in private, and it creates one big tragedy. For Kevin, his dream
was going off the grid. Crushed with the comparison
of his younger, more successful brother, he never felt comfortable in his own skin. He even looked like Dele,
but standing at 270 pounds, he was a bigger, less handsome version. Like Dele, Kevin dealt
with bouts of depression and drifted further from his family. He changed his name to Miles
in honor of the famed jazz musician, and used “Dabord” as his surname, which came from a relative
on his mother’s side. So, armed with this new identity,
Miles Dabord decided to heal any broken bonds
he might have had with Dele, and showed up in New Zealand
in February of 2002, to surprise his younger brother. By this time, it had been four years since either of his parents
had heard from him. When Dabord showed up, Dele’s girlfriend, Serena Karlan,
was immediately dismayed. She called her best friend,
who later said, on the phone call, that it was the first time she heard
Serena speak negatively about another human being
in the 17 years she had known her, if that tells you anything. So, Dele makes a ton of money. No one seems appreciative of it. He goes to Australia
and becomes a boat captain. Then, after a couple of years,
his brother shows up. Can only go great from there, right? Speaking of Serena,
let’s talk about her for a minute. Serena Karlan met Dele in 1997,
when she was 25 years old, after returning from a group outing
to a concert in Los Angeles. Dele’s career in the NBA, where he played on five teams
in a span of eight years, made it difficult for them
to have a relationship despite their strong connection. Serena hated her retail job
and turned down offers to model. One night, at a nightclub in L.A., Prince — yes, the singer Prince —
invited her over to his table. They eventually stayed in touch,
and a few years later, the icon hired her
as a personal assistant on his tour. She found the whole ordeal strange,
and left. As for Dele, he had
a few flings with starlets, models, and singers,
including Madonna — though he found her tiring,
which is funny, as he would often hand the phone over
to a friend whenever she called… [laughs]
…who would listen to her talk for at least half an hour
without stopping. [laughs] It’s just really funny
imagining a basketball player being like, “Ah, it’s Madonna.
Can you take it again, please?” But it seems Dele was
always smitten with Serena, and although she resisted
Dele’s advances, over time, her friends heard
how she talked about him and knew she was smitten, too. Dele and Serena saw the world
the same way, and the fact that he was in the NBA
was unimportant. In fact, Dele rarely spoke
about basketball. Actually, the only thing he spoke about
less than basketball was his family. So, while playing basketball,
Dele had met Serena, and the two of them were close, but both of their lives
were way too sporadic to have any kind of real relationship. But after Dele gets out of basketball, he decides to give it a chance. Dele’s purchase of the “Hakuna Matata” was, in part, a plan
to finally seal the deal with Serena. He contacted her in 2001,
and invited her to join him on his voyage around the world, which is incredibly romantic.
[laughs] Imagine you meet, like,
this famous, rich basketball player. And then, you two stay in touch
every now and then. Then, three years later, he’s like,
“I have a ship in Australia. It’s waiting for you.” At first, Serena spent
two weeks with Dele, which turned into five. When she returned home,
Dele called her a couple of times a week, asking her to come back — not just for a few weeks,
but to live with him. I’m not — I’m not even Serena,
and I’m feeling kind of — I’m startin’ to blush a little bit.
This man’s got the moves. With that, Serena packed her bags
and flew out to meet Dele in New Zealand. She was thrilled
to finally find something real. And what she wasn’t thrilled about
was the discovery that Dele’s estranged older brother
would be accompanying them on the boat. So, with that set up,
with all of these players in mind, that brings us
to the inevitable tragedy you knew this story was coming to. Now, what we know from that point onwards is that on July 6th, 2002,
the “Hakuna Matata” left Tahiti for Hawaii with four people on board — Bison Dele, Serena Karlan, Miles Dabord, and the boat’s French captain,
Bertran Saldo. There were four
satellite phone calls from the boat over the next two days,
none of which were distress calls. On July the 8th, the satellite phones on the boat
were turned off. Nobody was able to locate the boat for several weeks
after the phones were turned off, and it was in late August when the US Coast Guard
finally sent a distress bulletin to all ships within
a 1,000 mile radius of Tahiti. So, you know, a month-and-a-half later — right in the nick of time. Then, on September the 5th,
a man claiming to be Bison Dele tried to buy 460
1-ounce Gold Eagle coins from Certified Mint,
a Phoenix-based gold dealer. On the First Union check,
written in small, neat numbers, was the amount of $152,096. Naturally, this raised eyebrows, and the bank notified Kevin Porter,
Dele’s business manager. The connection between Phoenix and
French Polynesia is a world away, but the sequence of events between September 5th and July 6th
help fill some gaps. On July the 8th — the same day that the satellite phones
from the ship were turned off — a man matching Dabord’s description was spotted at the Pearl Resort
on Moorea. Then, eight days later —
on July the 16th — a damaged catamaran with bullet holes
registered as the “Aria Bella” was seen making port
into Phaeton Bay in Tahiti. Anyone looking closely enough
might have noticed the vinyl letters spelling the words
“Hakuna Matata” removed from the boat’s stern,
and it would later come to light that Dabord had
docked the boat in the marina and left for Los Angeles,
then Belize, and, finally, Arizona. But Porter had contacted Certified Mint
and the Phoenix Police Department about the gold purchase,
who apprehended Dabord in Arizona. After five hours of questioning,
Dabord claimed he was buying the gold on behalf of his younger brother,
who he said was alive and well in Tahiti. The police had no option
but to release Dabord, since Dele could not be reached
to disprove the account. Which, hearing it that way is so odd — Just to imagine the police are like,
“We think you killed your brother.” And then, that guy’s like,
“Nope, I didn’t kill my brother. He’s alive. Just ask him.” And the police are like… “Well, we can’t do that,
so you’re free to go.” Dabord, then, as innocent people do,
fled to Mexico, where he seemed to disappear,
but the FBI was now on his trail. His mother received
a phone call from Dabord, who told her
that he would never hurt Dele, but that he could not survive in prison,
hence why he had to run. Again, perfectly normal behavior
from an innocent man. By this point, the damaged boat
had been found by local authorities. The joint investigation from the FBI
and French government revealed that there was no sign
of the passengers on the boat. They believed that Dele,
Serena, and Saldo — the boat’s captain —
were dead. Evidence from the FBI showed
that Dabord had purchased almost $200 worth of weights from the Rebel Sport store
in Auckland, New Zealand. He is suspected to have used the weights to weigh down the bodies
of the three other passengers somewhere out at sea. Which, I understand, you know, first-degree murder is all about,
you know, the intent to murder, the intent behind the planning of it,
and stuff like that, but just the mental image
of buying 200 pounds of weights for your brother and his girlfriend so that after you murder them,
you can throw their bodies out at sea — It’s just diabolical. On September the 13th, Dabord was found unconscious
on a beach in Tijuana and brought to Scripps Memorial Hospital in Chula Vista, California. He was unresponsive,
and according to the hospital records, it was suggested,
based on his physical condition, that he had not been moving
for a significant period of time. And, eventually, on September the 26th — 13 days later —
Dabord was taken off life support. He was pronounced dead the following day. The official diagnosis was suicide
by hypoglycemic brain damage, with subsequent discontinuation
of life support. In summary, he overdosed on insulin
and laid down on the beach to die. The bodies of Serena Karlan,
Bertrand Saldo, and Bison Dele were never found. We will likely never know the truth surrounding what exactly
happened that day due to Dabord having never testified,
nor giving a statement to police. However, he did tell his girlfriend,
Erica Wiese, his version of the story. So, don’t worry — the killer is going
to tell us his version of events. I’m sure it’s to be believed. Dele accidentally punched
his girlfriend Serena in the face, causing her head to hit a steel davit,
killing her instantly. Saldo, the boat’s captain,
wanted to report the death, but Dele became agitated and killed Saldo
by striking him with a wrench, and then, in a rage,
supposedly went after Dabord, who was coincidentally holding a gun, and Dabord shot his brother Dele
out of self-defense. In fear that no one would believe him,
he dumped the three bodies overboard and then sailed back to Tahiti — and then also ripped off
the vinyl lettering of the boat and registered it as something else,
and then also took three different flights to different countries,
and then also fled to Mexico. Sadly, Dabord’s version of events is the only one
that the FBI ever had on record, but, forensically, it didn’t add up —
as you could imagine. If Dele had indeed hit Saldo
in the head with a wrench, there would be a blood splatter — especially in the area
where they supposedly fought, which had a ceiling. Among other things —
including from a narrative and motive standpoint —
Dabord’s version was dismissed. Instead, the FBI publicly put out
a statement involving Dabord, saying he was motivated
to assume his brother’s identity by killing everyone on board
and then sinking their bodies out at sea. Also, not even addressing
the absurdity of a scenario where someone is in a fight with you and is so mad that they punch and miss, but the punch is still strong enough that when it hits their girlfriend,
she flies into a wall and dies — Even ignoring that, just the concept that you witness
this series of hijinks happen to where you’re the last man standing, and your first reaction
is to steal your brother’s identity and try to buy $150,000 worth of gold — It seems that as soon as Bison Dele was
no longer supplying money from the NBA to his sickly brother, his brother decided to just kill him
and the people around him to try to steal his money
that he believed was rightfully his. Sadly, his brother took his own life, so he’ll never face justice
this side of eternity. But he also didn’t get to live out
a life full of gold and beach vacations in Mexico, either, so I guess that’s a plus. Bison Dele was 33 at the time
of his disappearance and assumed murder. So, the tragic cases
of Phil Jordan, Sonny Dove, and Bison Dele
are coincidental in nature, but serve as stark reminders
on how fleeting life can be. Throughout history,
indigenous groups have come to know this lesson all too well. Native Americans and their relationship
with basketball is an important one, especially in regard
to life on the reservation. In fact, “rezball” —
short for “reservation ball” — is a unique style of basketball
associated with Natives at the high school level
in the southwestern United States, where a majority
of reservations are located. For Lindy Waters III,
building his own legacy as a Native NBA player
means giving back to his community, evidenced by him being a guest speaker
for several Native youth groups, as well as hosting basketball camps
through the state of Oklahoma. Whether or not he knows about
the Pistons curse for Native players, Lindy recognizes those
who came before him. When he played for the Warriors — his previous team
before being traded to Detroit — he remarked that
he’s fueled every single day knowing that the times
that he’s playing in are so much easier
than what his ancestors had experienced. Waters isn’t focused on the water, but, rather, helping Detroit
make a deep playoff run, and, ultimately, maybe even an NBA title. It’s also worth mentioning,
if anyone is to break the “water curse” of the Detroit Pistons,
it should be someone named “Waters.” And, with that, we have the lore
of the Detroit Pistons curse. So, yeah, no conspiracy
or supernatural happenings. One case was someone
who was out on a raft and then had a drowning accident, another of a mechanical incident that happened with a bridge
in New York City, and the third of a very tragic
and brutal murder at the hands of a family member. Three unconnected
but very strange stories, given the similarity of their ethnicity
and the team they played for. I understand why this spurred
a ton of urban legends and conspiracies online, even if it isn’t that substantial
in the end. But, either way, I hope that
you found this video interesting. I normally don’t cover things
related to sports, but it’s a change of pace,
and we’ll see how you all like it. And if you don’t like it, well,
I’ll never do it again, and I’m so sorry. More content on the way.
We appreciate the support. Everyone who helped work on the video will be linked in the description,
as always. And that should do it for now,
but I just want to say, thank you for watching. I hope that you enjoyed,
and we will see you in the next one. Bye.

Uploads each week! Trying out something new on this channel, please let us know what you think and thank you for watching!

Co-creators:

Research – @bernievidz
Writing – Davis Kop
Director of Content Development – Randall Castillo (Insta: @Randsvc)
Editing – Reynold Hughes
Thumbnail – Elvan Putra
Captions – Foulweather Studios

Watch my videos on Spotify here!: https://open.spotify.com/show/2MDDT1opwKR0NF6upmhKKN?si=a46629ee693b4e54

DISCLAIMER: This video is for educational purposes. The events described and shown are historically/artistically significant and the content should be treated as a comprehensive recollection/analysis of events. The actions mentioned are in no way condoned or acceptable to myself or those who featured in the creation of this video. Any events or images depicted are artificial and in no way condone behavior of similar category. Please view responsibly, viewer discretion is advised.

Wendigoon Links

Main Channel: @Wendigoon

Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/wendigoon8

Subreddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/wendigoon/

Business email: wendigoon@manatalentgroup.com
Personal/Inquiries: Wendigoon8@gmail.com