In what sounds like a plot twist straight out of a heist movie, a Memphis-based FedEx employee decided to take the term “special delivery” a bit too literally. Meet Antwone Tate, the alleged mastermind behind an audacious scheme that involved pilfering valuable packages, not for the usual late-night company coffee runs, but for a lucrative, albeit illegal, side hustle involving diamonds, gold bars, and some seriously coveted baseball cards.
It all started to unravel on May 27, when FedEx’s Loss Prevention team at the Memphis Hub noticed that some packages were pulling disappearing acts more Houdini-esque than a local magician’s weekend gig. Red flags waving, they launched an investigation, sniffing out clues like seasoned detectives on a mission to crack a particularly sparkly case. And crack it they did.
Their sleuthing efforts led them straight to a pawn shop, the modern-day Aladdin’s Cave where missing treasures like an $8,500 diamond ring and nearly $14,000 in gold bars made a dazzling encore. The plot thickened with the discovery that these shimmering items had been hastily shepherded to the pawn shop by none other than Antwone Tate. In a move that would make a career criminal cringe, Tate had used his own driver’s license for the transactions, as though the anonymity of the pawn shop was enough to shield him from consequences. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
But like infomercials are fond of proclaiming, “But wait, there’s more!” Turns out, Tate’s adventures in FedEx’s treasure trove included a love affair with vintage baseball cards—a passion that many a collector would respect, if not for the means by which these cards ended up on his personal roster. Both a 1915 Cracker Jack Chief Bender and a 1933 Goudey Sport Kings Ty Cobb vanished, these cardboard relics representing around $6,800 worth of 20th-century nostalgia.
Investigators, now clearly honing their skills for a second career on a crime drama, traced these rare gems to eBay, where they were listed under the username antta_57. For those keeping track, this was as close to a self-incriminating username as signing an elusive street mural with one’s actual name. As expected, said account was linked right back to Tate, his digital fingerprints all over the proverbial cookie jar.
The triple heist, impressive as it was in its sheer audacity, resulted in equally impressive charges of theft of property. In a corporate move tantamount to a disciplinary drumroll, FedEx issued a swift and decisive statement announcing that Tate would no longer be a part of what they might have termed, “team integrity.” The statement subtly drove home the point that thievery, while perhaps admirable in fictional rogues and suave spy films, isn’t part of their actual job description.
So, as the judicial system gears up to throw more than just caution to the wind, spare a thought—or a bid—for those mysteriously absent packages that sometimes seem to drift beyond the horizons of your tracking app. Might they too have fallen prey to side hustles more ambitious than dietary supplement schemes? Could they appear next on eBay, listed by usernames only slightly less conspicuous than antta_57?
Every package that tilts towards the unknown might be a future pawn shop purchase, a curious addition to an online auction, or just possibly, a real-life footnote in someone’s misguided attempt to double-dip into the world of luxury goods. In the meantime, if you’re browsing online marketplaces and stumble upon listings too good to be true, perhaps pause before you click. It could be a remnant of someone else’s version of “PORCHraft”—or even a warning to check the sender’s credentials more closely than ever before.
