The untold story of Jimmy Hoffa

May 12, 2010
By Alphebetsoup BRONZE, West Bloomfield, Michigan
Alphebetsoup BRONZE, West Bloomfield, Michigan
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

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The hand reached out, grabbed me, and made sure I couldn’t make a noise. Not that I would, I knew who these guys were.

“Shut up”


“Come on guys, its me, Jimmy!”

“Now you listen here buddy boy! Ever since you got canned, Tony here been in charge. And you come back like hot stuff that you ain’t, and think we’re going to take you back? Well leme’ tell you somethin’, We ain’t!”


“Don’t you dare say a word,” I commanded myself.

“Now you’s ain’t gonna talk? Alrighty then.” The man was clean cut, tall, and skinny.

The sound of the razor clicking open scared the wits outa’ me, but I was cool. I didn’t rush, and I didn’t show that I was scared either. The rope that had been holding my hands so tightly was only double knotted. I sneaked out of them ropes like a cake walk. I waited for my chance, blood filled my eyes. The mysterious figure danced back and forth, dressed in a suit, outfitted with black shades. This guy was a Teamster.
I stayed calm, waiting for what seemed like hours, waiting.
“So when ya’ gonna get this over with?” I yelled across the warehouse.
“What, ya’ eager?”
This voice was different, raspy, sounded more professional. I looked up, still dazed as to what was happening.
“Tony” I said, slanting my mouth with a half smile.
“Howdy, bud” He winked.
The everlasting sound of that razor clicking open was here again.
James charged, I put my foot out, and kicked. He fell to the ground, his tie whirling, I stood up and knew I was in for a fight. Quickly, I grabbed the blade.

“We expected you to do this,” said a bearded man with a New Jersey accent.

The sound of a gun cocking filled my head, and I knew it was over, and as I thought of all the things I have done, the reasons I am here now, and what will happen in the future. Chucky, my long time friend, pulled the trigger.


Jimmy Hoffa was head of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, a trade union organized from 1932 – 1975. He was the unions general president from 1958 – 1971 until he got sent to jail for jury tampering and attempted bribery. When Jimmy got out of jail he set up a meeting in order regain the power of the Teamsters once more, but some people didn’t think that was such a great idea. On July 30th at 2:00 pm Jimmy arrived at his destination, the Red Fox Inn in Bloomfield Hills Michigan, the last place he was ever seen.

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