The body of a missing lottery winner was found buried beneath a concrete slab in the backyard of a woman who befriended him and systematically stripped him of his $30 million fortune, authorities confirmed Tuesday, culminating a Shakespearean saga of greed, deception, and murder that unfolded over nine harrowing months.
Abraham Shakespeare, a 43-year-old illiterate janitor who swept floors at a Lakeland, Florida, barbershop, had no idea his life would become a cautionary tale when he claimed a $30 million lottery prize in 2006. The quiet, generous man who could not read or write suddenly found himself the target of relentless pleas for money, a burden he bore with a kindness that ultimately sealed his fate.
Within months of his windfall, Shakespeare met Dee Dee Moore, a successful nurse staffing agency owner who promised to write a book about his rags-to-riches story and help manage his finances. Instead, prosecutors say, Moore orchestrated a calculated takeover of his assets, transferring his $1.1 million home and bank accounts into her company’s name, while loaning herself hundreds of thousands of dollars from his dwindling fortune.
By April 2009, Shakespeare had vanished. Moore told friends and family he was on vacation, hiding from the constant pressure of money-seekers, traveling to Miami, Texas, or even Haiti. But his cousin grew suspicious and filed a missing person report, putting Moore squarely on the radar of the Polk County Sheriff’s Office.
The investigation quickly zeroed in on Moore, who had become the sole beneficiary of Shakespeare’s wealth. Detectives discovered that of the $570,000 Shakespeare had loaned out, more than two-thirds was owed by Moore’s company. She had also aggressively pursued his debtors, pushing them away so she could collect what was owed.
As police closed in, Moore turned to an unlikely ally: Greg Smith, the barber who had employed Shakespeare and considered him a friend. In a bizarre twist, Moore asked Smith to impersonate Shakespeare in a phone call to his elderly mother, paying him $300 to buy time. Smith reluctantly agreed, but the ruse unraveled when police caught wind of the transaction.
Smith soon found himself at the center of a high-stakes undercover operation. Facing pressure from detectives who suspected Moore of foul play, Smith agreed to wear a wire and record his conversations with her. But the barber, uncomfortable with the arrangement, devised his own ingenious method: he hollowed out a Red Bull can, placed a small recorder inside, and used it as an ashtray during their meetings.
The recordings captured Moore’s elaborate lies. She fabricated a character named Ronald, a 𝒹𝓇𝓊𝑔 dealer she claimed had threatened her and possibly killed Shakespeare. She even attempted to frame a 14-year-old boy, her own son, for the murder.
But the most damning evidence came when she led Smith to a property she owned in Plant City, Florida, pointing out a fresh concrete slab in the yard.
“She took me to the body,” Smith recalled. “I told her, ‘Listen, I’m not going to get out of the truck because I don’t want nobody to see us together. What I want you to do is take that piece of steel and go set it on the concrete where his body is buried.'”
That same day, police secured the property. The following morning, heavy equipment arrived to exhume the remains of Abraham Shakespeare, more than nine months after he was last seen alive. An autopsy revealed two gunshot wounds to his chest and abdomen, fired from a Smith & Wesson .
38 special revolver with an integrated laser sight, which Moore had purchased and trained with at a local gun range.
Moore was arrested and charged with first-degree murder. At trial, prosecutors painted a picture of a cold, calculating predator who befriended a vulnerable man and methodically drained his wealth before silencing him permanently. The jury agreed, convicting her and sentencing her to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
From behind bars at the Lowell Correctional Institution in Ocala, Florida, Moore maintains her innocence, spinning ever more elaborate tales. She claims she and Shakespeare buried a million dollars under the concrete, that he was killed by the fictional Ronald, and that she had no knowledge of his death until investigators told her.
“It was money. We buried money,” she insisted during an interview, snorting at the absurdity of the accusation. “When the money was buried, we wanted concrete over it so that water wouldn’t get into it because he’s going to leave it there for a while.”
But authorities found no money in the hole, only the body of a man who had trusted the wrong person. For Greg Smith, the barber who lost a friend and gained a harrowing story, the tragedy is a stark reminder of the dangers of sudden wealth.
“You’ll hear a lot of stories in Greg Smith’s barbershop,” the barber said, his voice heavy with emotion. “But you’ve never heard one quite like this. Abraham don’t win the lottery, Abraham still live.”
The case has become a cautionary tale for lottery winners everywhere, a stark illustration of how a life-changing windfall can attract predators and lead to devastating consequences. Shakespeare’s generosity, his inability to say no, and his lack of financial literacy made him an easy target for those who saw only dollar signs.
Moore’s conviction brought a measure of justice, but for those who knew Shakespeare, the loss remains profound. He was a man who, even after winning millions, continued to sweep the barbershop floor and pick up pennies off the ground, reminding his friend that “pennies make dollars.”
The investigation, which spanned months and involved undercover operations, wiretaps, and a 𝒻𝒶𝓀𝑒 murder confession, ultimately unraveled Moore’s web of lies. But it also 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓭 the dark side of human nature, where greed can extinguish even the brightest of fortunes.
As the barber shop in Lakeland continues to buzz with conversation, one story will forever stand out: the tale of Abraham Shakespeare, the janitor who won the lottery, only to be buried by the woman who claimed to be his friend.