He Blamed A Ouija Board For His Family’s Brutal Massacre

There is a specific kind of darkness that lives within the human soul, a shadow that only reveals itself when money is on the line. We like to believe that our homes are our sanctuaries, that our families are our ultimate protectors, and that the people we build our lives and businesses with have our best interests at heart. But what happens when the allure of unearned wealth becomes stronger than the bonds of love, friendship, and basic human decency?

Greed is the oldest motive in the history of crime. It twists the mind, rationalizes the unthinkable, and turns ordinary people into monsters. To understand just how far a human being will go for a payout, we must look into the abyss of three vastly different, yet equally horrifying cases. From a hoarder’s home in the deep South to a blood-stained corporate office in California, and finally to a luxury yacht sailing off the Pacific coast, these are the true stories of lives violently extinguished by the sheer, unadulterated greed of those they trusted most.

Part One: The Hoarder House and the Blue Moon Massacre

In the quiet, wooded outskirts of Pensacola, Florida, the Smith family lived a life of absolute anonymity. The matriarch, Voncile Smith, rarely left her home. She spent her days watching shopping networks, ordering packages, and keeping to herself. She lived with her two adult sons from her second marriage, Richard and John. Richard worked a high-level, sensitive job for the Department of Homeland Security, while John, who was described as intellectually disabled, worked at a local retail store. They were a reclusive trio, practically ghosts in their own neighborhood.

But their quiet existence was shattered when Richard failed to show up for work for several days. In a job as critical as his, an unexcused absence was a massive red flag. His supervisor drove to the secluded property, found the cars in the driveway, the windows drawn, and a pile of untouched packages on the porch. Knowing something was terribly wrong, he called 911 to request a welfare check.

When deputies finally breached the front door, they were met with a wall of stench and a labyrinth of clutter. The house was a textbook hoarder’s den, packed floor to ceiling with boxes, trash, and endless piles of clothing. But as they navigated the eerie, silent home, the source of the foul odor became undeniable. Underneath mounds of dirty laundry, they found the bodies.

Voncile, Richard, and John had all been slaughtered. The violence inflicted upon them was staggering. Richard had been shot in the head. John had been bludgeoned, his skull bashed in. All three victims had their throats violently slit. But there was one detail that stood out to investigators, a bizarre and terrifying signature: Voncile’s pinky finger had been severed.

There were no signs of forced entry. Whoever did this was invited inside. The killer was comfortable in the home, moving through the chaotic mess with lethal purpose. The extreme overkill suggested a deep-seated rage, a personal vendetta.

Detectives immediately began looking at the family tree and found Donald Hartung, Voncile’s eldest son from her first marriage. Donald was the outlier, the self-proclaimed black sheep. He lived a few miles away and maintained a routine of coming over every Tuesday to cook dinner for his mother and half-brothers. When police arrived at Donald’s home to deliver the devastating news that his entire family had been massacred, his reaction sent chills down their spines.

He showed absolutely nothing. No tears, no shock, no denial. He simply stared back at them with cold indifference. When pressed about his lack of emotion, he flatly insisted he was emotional, though his face betrayed no such feeling.

A search of Donald’s home introduced a wild curveball into the investigation. Detectives discovered a room dedicated to the occult, filled with Wiccan literature, shrines, and a Ouija board. In the heart of the Bible Belt, this discovery was explosive. The local sheriff held a press conference, dubbing the incident the “Blue Moon” murders, suggesting ritualistic witchcraft was at play.

But the occult was merely a smokescreen. The real motive was far older and far more common: money.

Donald had recently learned that his mother, who had quietly amassed a fortune of nearly a million dollars in assets and a safe full of cash, had explicitly written him out of her will. If Richard and John died, and Voncile died, Donald believed he would be the sole heir to the estate. The severed pinky finger was not a satanic ritual; it was a brutal method of torture used by Donald to force his dying mother to reveal the combination to her safe.

The physical evidence soon mounted. Investigators found Donald’s DNA on bloody rags and cigarette butts mixed in the trash at the crime scene. While sitting in jail awaiting trial, Donald’s arrogance got the better of him. He confessed to a cellmate, chillingly blaming a Ouija board for making him commit the murders, but acknowledging that the true prize was the inheritance. A jury saw through his lies, convicting him of triple homicide and ensuring he would spend the rest of his natural life rotting in a concrete cell, a millionaire only in his own twisted mind.

Part Two: The Ghost in the Inbox

Thousands of miles away in Laguna Beach, California, a different kind of greed was brewing inside the sleek, high-stakes world of corporate startups. Chris Smith was a vibrant, handsome 33-year-old entrepreneur with a restless soul. He had dreams of being a professional wakeboarder, but an injury forced him into the business world. He was wildly successful, co-founding a lucrative lead-generation company called 800 Exchange with his business partner, Ed Shin. In their first year alone, the company generated over twelve million dollars in revenue.

But Chris hated the corporate grind. He constantly spoke of cashing out, moving to Costa Rica, and living on the ocean. So, when Chris suddenly emailed his family in June to announce he had sold his half of the company to Ed Shin and was embarking on a spontaneous trip around the world with a Playboy model, it seemed entirely in character.

For months, the emails rolled in. Chris wrote about his adventures in South Africa and India. But slowly, the tone of the messages began to rot. Chris claimed the model had left him. He wrote about severe depression, isolation, and suicidal thoughts. He refused to call his family, claiming he had thrown his phone away to live completely off the grid.

Chris’s father, sensing something deeply wrong, decided to test the person writing the emails. He asked a security question only his son would know: “What kind of boat did we have growing up on the lake?”

The response was dismissive and vague. A few weeks later, Chris’s brother received an email asking that exact same question, proving that whoever was behind the keyboard was trying to fish for the answer. The terrifying reality set in: Chris Smith was not sailing around the world. Chris Smith was missing.

When the State Department confirmed that Chris’s passport had never left the United States, his father traveled to California to confront Ed Shin. Ed was smooth, composed, and offered a perfectly rehearsed story about buying Chris out for a million dollars in cash and watching him walk away.

But a private investigator hired by the building’s landlord uncovered the horrific truth. Ed Shin had abandoned the 800 Exchange office space, stiffing the landlord for months of rent. When the investigator walked into the vacant office, he found the walls and carpet stained with dried blood. Crime scene technicians discovered an exorbitant amount of blood spatter, indicating a brutal, upward-and-downward bludgeoning. DNA tests confirmed the blood belonged to Chris Smith.

The facade of the perfect business partner crumbled. Ed Shin was a man drowning in a gambling addiction and had a prior conviction for embezzlement. Chris had discovered that Ed was quietly siphoning millions of dollars out of their company to feed his Las Vegas gambling habits. When Chris confronted him and demanded to see the financial books, Ed knew his lavish lifestyle and his freedom were about to vanish.

Instead of facing the consequences, Ed Shin ambushed Chris in their office, bludgeoned him to death, and paid an associate to drive his body out to the remote desert near the Mexican border to bury him in an unmarked grave. For nearly a year, Ed sat at his computer, pretending to be his murdered friend, writing twisted, depressing emails to a family desperate for their son’s return.

Ed Shin’s self-defense claims fell on deaf ears in the courtroom. He was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Chris Smith’s body has never been found, leaving his family to mourn at an empty grave, all because a man he trusted refused to stop stealing.

Part Three: Anchored to the Abyss

If Donald Hartung represents familial greed, and Ed Shin represents corporate greed, then Skylar Deleon is the embodiment of sociopathic entitlement.

Thomas and Jackie Hawks were living the ultimate American dream. Tom, a retired probation officer and entrepreneur, and his bubbly, beloved wife Jackie had worked hard their entire lives to achieve their goal: buying a 50-foot fishing trawler named the “Well Deserved” and sailing off into the sunset. They lived on the boat in Mexico for two years before deciding it was time to sell it, move back to land, and welcome a new grandchild.

To save money on broker fees, Tom listed the boat himself. He was contacted by Skylar Deleon, a former child actor who had appeared as an extra on the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Skylar pulled up to the marina in a Dodge Viper, accompanied by his pregnant wife, Jennifer. They looked like the perfect, wealthy, all-American young family looking for an adventure at sea.

The Hawks were thrilled. They took Skylar and a few of his associates out on the ocean for a sea trial to show them how the boat operated.

Tom and Jackie Hawks were never seen again.

When the couple vanished, police immediately questioned Skylar Deleon. Skylar calmly produced legally notarized documents proving that he had purchased the boat with cash, along with a power of attorney granting him access to the Hawks’ bank accounts. It looked like a legitimate, albeit highly unusual, transaction.

But the truth was a nightmare beyond comprehension. Skylar Deleon was not a wealthy actor; he was a broke, desperate criminal who had done time for armed burglary. His wife Jennifer was equally greedy, pushing Skylar to provide a life of luxury they could not afford. Furthermore, Skylar desperately wanted gender reassignment surgery, a procedure he lacked the funds to complete.

To get the money, Skylar engineered a masterpiece of deception. He hired a corrupt notary to backdate the sale documents. He enlisted a former correctional officer, Alonzo Machain, and an enforcer named CJ Kennedy, to act as his accountant and crew.

Once the “Well Deserved” was miles out in the deep, isolated waters of the Pacific Ocean, the trap was sprung. The men ambushed Tom and Jackie. Despite putting up a fierce fight, Tom was overpowered. The couple was blindfolded, gagged, and handcuffed. Under the threat of torture, they were forced to sign the power of attorney documents, signing away their entire life savings.

What happened next is a testament to the utter depravity of the human spirit. While lying bound on a bed in the cabin of the boat they loved so much, Tom managed to position himself so he could gently stroke his terrified wife’s hand, comforting her in their final moments.

Skylar Deleon and his crew dragged a massive, heavy iron anchor from the bow of the ship. They tied Tom and Jackie to the anchor chain. Jackie pleaded for her life, begging Skylar to spare them, reminding him that they had trusted him. Her pleas fell on deaf, sociopathic ears.

While they were still alive, still breathing, and fully conscious, Tom and Jackie Hawks were thrown overboard. The immense weight of the anchor dragged them violently beneath the waves, pulling them down 3,800 feet to the pitch-black bottom of the ocean.

Alonzo Machain eventually confessed to the horrific crime in exchange for a plea deal, breaking the case wide open. The trial was highly emotional, ending with Skylar Deleon receiving the death penalty, while his wife Jennifer and the other accomplices received life sentences.

In a cruel twist of irony, the killers were unable to access the Hawks’ bank accounts before they were caught. They had committed one of the most brutal double murders in maritime history, extinguishing two beautiful lives, all for a grand total of $1,300 in cash found lying around the boat.

The Ultimate Cost

These three stories stand as dark monuments to the destructive power of greed. Donald Hartung slaughtered the family that fed him. Ed Shin butchered the man who built a fortune with him. Skylar Deleon drowned a couple whose only mistake was trusting a young father with a friendly smile.

They all believed they were smarter than the system. They all believed that the wealth they were stealing would wash away the blood on their hands. Instead, their greed became their permanent prison. It is a terrifying reminder that when it comes to money, you can never truly know the heart of the person standing next to you. The Slayer statute—a law preventing a murderer from inheriting money from their victim—exists for a reason. It is a legal acknowledgment of a dark, societal truth: there will always be those who value cold, hard cash over the warmth of a beating human heart.