The funeral was unbearable. Our daughters, Sophie and Emma, only four and five years old, kept asking, “Where’s Mommy?” I had no idea how to answer. How could I explain something I didn’t understand myself? Thankfully, Elizabeth’s parents and sister were there to help handle the arrangements.
After the service, as I walked to my car in a daze, I felt someone watching me. At first, I thought it was just my grief playing tricks on me, but then I saw her—an old woman standing near the cemetery gates.
She looked ancient, her face etched with deep lines, her sharp eyes piercing through me as if she could see straight into my soul.
“Excuse me,” she called softly.
I hesitated but didn’t respond. I was too drained for conversation, especially with a stranger.
“I know your fate,” she said, her voice serious.
I frowned. “What?”
“Cross my palm with silver, and I’ll reveal the joy and sorrow that lie ahead,” she continued, holding out her hand.
I stared at her, bewildered. A fortune-teller? At a funeral? I shook my head, muttering, “I’m not interested,” and started to walk away.
But her next words stopped me cold. “Elizabeth won’t rest until justice is served.”
I turned back sharply. “What did you say?”
“Twenty dollars,” she said, beckoning with her bony fingers. “That’s all.”
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve dismissed her. But in my grief-stricken state, I was numb to everything. Twenty dollars seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I handed her the crumpled bill.
Her hand felt icy as she grabbed mine, her grip surprisingly firm. She didn’t take her eyes off me, and for a moment, I felt exposed, as though she could see all the pain I was carrying.
“Today, you’ve lost someone dear,” she whispered.
“Yeah, no kidding,” I said bitterly. “We’re at a cemetery.”
She didn’t flinch. “Your wife’s death was no accident.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s more to her death than you know. Tomorrow, the truth will begin to reveal itself.”
I felt my mouth go dry. “What truth?”
She smiled slowly, an unsettling grin. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll see.”
Before I could ask anything else, she turned and disappeared into the mist, vanishing as if she had never been there. I stood frozen, torn between disbelief and a strange sense of foreboding.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elizabeth—her smile, her laugh, the way she kissed our daughters goodnight. But the fortuneteller’s cryptic words haunted me: “Your wife’s death was no accident.” Was there any truth to it? Could the crash have been something more sinister?
Unable to rest, I got up and sifted through Elizabeth’s things, desperate to feel close to her. Among her belongings, I found something odd—receipts from a car rental service. We had two cars. Why would she need a rental?
I stared at the receipts, my heart racing. The fortuneteller’s words echoed in my mind. “There’s more to her death than you know.”
The next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. I called Elizabeth’s best friend, Sarah, who worked at the garage where our cars were serviced. Maybe she could help me make sense of it all.
“Hey, Sarah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did Elizabeth mention anything to you about renting a car?”
There was a brief pause before she answered. “Actually, yes. She rented a car when both of your cars were in the shop. It was for a surprise trip to the beach, but she returned it the day before… well, you know.”
“But why didn’t she tell me?” I muttered to myself.
“She wanted it to be a surprise,” Sarah replied. “She even asked her sister Karen to return the car for her after the trip.”
A wave of unease washed over me. Karen? Why would she return the car, and why hadn’t I known about it?
Determined to get answers, I drove to the rental company. When I explained the situation, the manager pulled up the records. “The car was returned without visible damage. We accepted it as normal, but… something seems off. Only a few miles were added to the odometer.”
I left the office with more questions than answers. Why had Karen returned the car? What was she hiding? I decided to contact the police, as the suspicion that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident gnawed at me.
I explained everything to the detective—the car rental, the fortuneteller, my growing doubts. He listened carefully and assured me they’d investigate. “Initially, we ruled it a tragic accident caused by brake failure,” he said. “But now, with what you’ve shared, we’ll take a closer look.”
The days that followed were a blur. Then, the police found something shocking—evidence that someone had tampered with the brakes. My stomach churned as the horrifying truth began to surface.
It wasn’t long before the investigation revealed even more. Karen had taken out a life insurance policy on Elizabeth just months before the accident. She had forged Elizabeth’s signature and made herself the sole beneficiary.
I was sickened. Elizabeth’s death hadn’t been an accident—it was murder. And the person behind it was her own sister.
When Karen was arrested, I couldn’t even look at her. The woman who had comforted me in my grief had been the one to cause it all, driven by greed.
During interrogation, she confessed to tampering with the car’s brakes, hoping to collect the insurance money. The betrayal was devastating.
Karen was sentenced to life in prison. It didn’t bring Elizabeth back, but at least I knew she would never harm anyone again. The fortuneteller had been right—Elizabeth couldn’t rest until justice was served.
A few weeks later, I returned to the cemetery. As I stood by Elizabeth’s grave, I whispered, “You can rest now.”
Just as I was about to leave, a butterfly landed on her headstone. I knew it was Elizabeth, finally at peace.
Though I never saw the fortuneteller again, her words had led me to the truth. As painful as it was, that truth was worth every penny of the twenty dollars I had given her.
Dana Plato’s cause of death, confirmed
Warning: This article talks about a possible suicide. Please read carefully and take care of yourself.
Dana Plato was born on November 7, 1964, in Maywood, California. She was an actress best known for playing Kimberly Drummond, a caring character, on the popular TV show Diff’rent Strokes, which ran from 1978 to 1986. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, she became a teen idol.
Aside from Diff’rent Strokes, Dana appeared in many other TV shows and movies. According to IMDb, some of her TV appearances included The Six Million Dollar Man (1975), Family (1976), What Really Happened to the Class of ’65? (1978), Hello, Larry (three episodes), The Facts of Life (1979), CHiPs (1979 and 1980), High School U.S.A. (1983), The Love Boat (1974), and Growing Pains (1985).
Dana Plato appeared in several movies, including Exorcist II: The Heretic (1977), Return to Boggy Creek (1977), California Suite (1978), and Prime Suspect (1989), along with some smaller, less known films.
Sadly, Dana passed away on May 8, 1999, in Moore, Oklahoma, at just 34 years old. People wonder what led to such a heartbreaking and early end to her life.
How did Dana Plato die?
According to her IMDb bio and other sources, Dana Plato’s death at first seemed to be an accidental overdose of the painkiller “Loritab.” But 13 days later, on May 21, 1999, a coroner ruled her death a suicide because of the large amount of drugs in her system and her past attempts to take her own life. Some of her friends and people who knew her disagreed with this ruling.
On the day Dana Plato died, she had just done an interview with Howard Stern, hoping it would help restart her career. She and her fiancé, Robert Menchaca, who was also her manager, were on their way back to California in their motor home. They stopped at Menchaca’s parents’ house in Moore, Oklahoma, for a Mother’s Day weekend visit. Dana wasn’t feeling well, so she took some Lortab (a painkiller) and a muscle relaxer, then went to take a nap with her fiancé. When he woke up, he found her unresponsive next to him.
Dana Plato had been dealing with substance abuse for many years before her death. Her difficulties were often linked to the fact that she struggled to find more acting roles after Diff’rent Strokes ended.
We hope she has found peace now.
If you or someone you know is going through a tough time or is in crisis, help is available. You can call or text 988, or chat online at 988lifeline.org. For international crisis resources, check the link provided.
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