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The year was 1986. I was driving home from my office in Miami to Plantation, Florida. Plantation is located in Broward County and is a suburb of Ft. Lauderdale. It was close to 5:30 pm. I was supposed to be home to entertain dinner guests by 7 pm. I was happy I was going to make it home with time to spare when my phone rang.

The caller i.d. showed it was Mark Smith calling. Mark and his wife Connie were neighbors of ours that had lived across the way from us when we lived in our condominium at 40 Wimbledon Lake Drive in Plantation, FL.

Mark was an alumnus from the University of Florida and his wife Connie was an alumnus from Florida State. Together they had three wonderful children. They hosted a great cookout every year during the Florida/Florida State Football game. It was always a huge event with barbequed chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, smoked and pulled pork and enough side dishes to fill you up. Desserts galore. Alcohol, beer, and wine flowed freely. There were between 40 and 60 guests at these cookouts (including children).

Mark was the Vice-president of a local company. He was also the former golf pro at Disney World and we played golf many times. He would shoot par or better while I was usually in the mid 80’s or low 90’s. I never beat him, never came close.

Answering the phone Mark was on the far eastern side of the city of Plantation, Florida while I was approaching home from the far western side of the city.

Mark had a legal question which he claimed he needed to see me in person to explain it to me. When I asked him if it could wait until tomorrow the tone of his voice had given me the answer. It couldn’t wait.

I made him a deal, if he would call my wife and explain to her that he was the reason I wasn’t going to be home until about 8 pm and late for my dinner guests, I could meet with him this evening. After agreeing to my terms, he gave me the address of a home in a cul-de-sac just off Peters Road on the other side of the Florida Turnpike. It wasn’t as far as I thought it was going to be. I was approaching home from I-75 on the western end of Broward County. He was 10 minutes away (via I-595 East). I arrived at around 7 pm. Mark and I exchanged greetings and I asked him what was so important that it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow morning? This is where the tale begins.

The house I had arrived at was for sale. Mark sifted through papers which showed the house was built in 1982, it was a 5 bedroom, 5 1/2 bath home with a pool and a hot tub and a nice sized yard. He had the keys for the home and insisted I take a tour of the home with him.

It was pretty much small talk as he showed me the home, I was impressed by the size of the bedrooms and the open floor concept. The kitchen was just okay. After we finished the tour Mark stopped, grabbed my arm, and said how much he wanted to purchase this home. The assessed value was $660,000 but the owners would sell it to him for $425,000. He told me he had come up with the cash.

I immediately stopped him and said there must be a defect in the home or with the title and that no sane person in Florida was going to sell a house assessed at $660k for “four and a quarter.”

That’s when Mark explained to me the couple who currently owned the home, well their 4-year-old son had drowned in the pool. The wife was so distraught that she could not and did not step foot into the home after the child had died. (I would later call the Plantation Police Department several days later and speak to the detective who worked the case. A police investigation showed the pool had been up to code, including a fence around the pool and a child proof door leading to the pool itself. It ruled the child’s death an “accidental drowning”).

Mark’s legal question was interesting. Did he have to tell his wife Connie about the child drowning in the pool? My first thought was, “Are you kidding me Mark, of course you have to let her know.” Then I tried to remember what I had learned in Property Law in Law School. I remembered Florida was one of the states (not all states do) that follows “A death, suicide or even a murder in a house cannot be considered something the seller is obliged to disclose, just as there is no obligation to disclose domestic violence, trespass, births, marriages, baptisms, or other life events, whether happy or sad, that may have occurred there, unless there have been questions raised about these facts.” Sort of followed a commonsense rule of law.

I wasn’t trying to blow Mark off, I just needed to get home. I explained that I would check with the Property Division and that either I or someone would contact him tomorrow.

He grabbed me by my arm and stated, “Paul, this is important to me. I want to by her this house. What would you do if it were you?” I explained to Mark that I would most likely not tell my wife about the child drowning in the pool. Then I asked him if he understood the consequences if he didn’t tell his wife and she found out?

Since there were two other homes in the cul-de-sac I promised to check to see when these homes were built and occupied because the neighbors might know of the child’s death. Mark thought that was a good idea. I told him not to go knocking on doors and that I would find out for him one way or the other.

Today was Tuesday, Mark said the owner was giving him until Saturday to decide. Of course, I asked if he could come up with the cash. Mark had me follow him to the rear of his car. He opened the trunk and I could see a briefcase. I immediately asked him had he lost his mind? He opened the briefcase which was full of money of which I could see, wrapped one-hundred-dollar bills. “Let me guess, I asked, “four-hundred-twenty-five-thousand dollars?” “To the dollar,” was his calm response.

We spent ten minutes discussing the pro’s and con’s and I told him I was taking the money and would deposit it and give him a receipt. I assured him a cashier’s check was as good as cash when purchasing a home and that having a paper trail was always a good idea.

To make a long story short, the other two homes in the cul-de-sac were custom homes that were built after the accidental death of the child so the neighbors did not know what had occurred in the home. Mark and Connie purchased the house and this was going to have a happy ending.

For the next four years I was always invited and always attended their cookout during the Florida/Florida State football game at the new house.

The Florida/Florida State game of 1990 is a game I will never forget for the rest of my life. It was played on Saturday, December 1st. The game started at 7:30 pm. The Smith cookout had started at 4 pm. At kickoff (around 7:40 pm) everyone had eaten and had gathered around a tv by the pool or the television in the living room. The patio doors were open from the living room to the pool so the crowd inside and out could freely move back and forth between the two tv’s to watch the game. There was also a smaller tv behind the bar on the patio. The bar sat 6 people who were glued to the game. Beer, wine, and alcohol still flowed freely.

There were always about 10 people in and out of the pool. This included children, wives, and non-football fans. The temperature was hovering around 76 degrees. Connie had let me know (repeatedly) that Florida State had won the previous 3 games against the University of Florida and I kept reminding her that I knew all of that because I had been with her for each of those victories. We laughed when she realized it was true. At half-time the score was Florida State 24 and the University of Florida 10.

At the end of the 3rd quarter the score was Florida State 38 and the University of Florida 16. I don’t remember what time it was but I will never forget what happened next. A lot of the guests had been drinking since they arrived at 4pm. I had enjoyed two drinks early on but had switched to Dr. Pepper by kickoff.

Connie and Mark were both feeling good and checking constantly with the guests to make sure everyone had gotten enough to eat and drink. Connie appeared in a swimsuit along with five or six children who were all going swimming. I was sitting in a chair by the steps alongside of the pool and heard Mark ask Connie if she was alright to swim. She smiled and said to Mark, “watch this.” Connie ran and did a cannon ball into the deep end of the pool. The children thought that her cannon ball was cool and followed her into the pool by performing one of their own. Connie and Mark had three children, all of whom jumped into the pool and surrounded their mother.

As the children and adults swam, my attention was turned to the game. Mark thought that Florida was going to come back to win this game. I wasn’t so sure of that.

All of a sudden I noticed Connie swimming from the deep end of the pool to the shallow end of the pool like an Olympic swimmer. Once she reached the shallow end she climbed up the steps and got out of the water. She screamed for Mark to bring her a towel. Bringing her a towel Mark asked, “Is everything alright?” Connie responded, “I was swimming underwater in the deep end and I saw a dead child floating in the water.”

I was close enough to hear the conversation but kept my eyes glued to the television. Mark placed his arm around Connie and disappeared into the house with her. I stood up out of my chair but did not follow them into the house. It was about fifteen to twenty minutes later when Mark returned to the pool area. He was letting everyone know that Connie was alright. He didn’t go into detail about what she had claimed to have seen. After he made the rounds he ended up by the outside bar where I was now standing. “What the hell just happened,” he asked me? “Relax,” I said, “it was the excitement of the party, all the people, the food, the alcohol and her team winning again, that’s all it was. Let it go at that.” He seemed to accept my response without further comment.

Me, well I wasn’t too sure of myself.

Now you know the rest of the story.