The man from the suitcase was buried three times. First in 1995 at Woodlawn Cemetery, surrounded by his loving wife, Juanita, his extended family, and his remaining friends and colleagues. It’s a beautiful spot; I’ve shed my own tears there.
I don’t know who presided over his next burial, who selected the much smaller coffin he occupied for a year after Juanita was put to rest by his side, but I presided over his first exhumation. Continue reading