Powerball winners mostly thrive—two stories derail

A review of 31 publicly identified Powerball winners with jackpots above $50 million—who have now lived at least 10 years as lottery winners—finds most are doing well, with nine clearly thriving through giving and community work. Only two showed highly publici

The fantasy of a lottery win often comes with a warning label: the “lottery curse.” In the popular imagination, it’s the stuff that shatters families, empties bank accounts, and ends lives in sudden, untimely tragedy.

But when 31 Powerball winners—each with a publicly identified jackpot greater than $50 million—were followed over time, a different story emerged: most of them appear to have kept their footing for a decade or more after claiming their prizes.

The winners were identified as part of a project that tracked 31 Powerball jackpots greater than $50 million in a roughly four-year span between late 2012 and 2016. The group was chosen so that all have now lived 10 or more years as lottery winners. Researchers scanned the internet. news databases and public records for follow-up stories. good or bad. and reached out by telephone. text message and email—an effort described as difficult because lottery winners tend to keep a low profile. Some winners were interviewed; others exchanged curt texts.

What the review found was starkly uneven. At least nine of the 31 winners had “obviously thrived. ” with lived-good lives. celebrations of their fortune. and ways of giving back to their communities. At least seven of those nine winners started charitable foundations, and all nine made significant gifts to local causes.

Only two Powerball winners were found to have seemingly succumbed to the lottery curse in the most public way—through subsequent setbacks or misfortunes that were sufficient to spawn national headlines.

One was Pedro Quezada of New Jersey. After his 2013 jackpot, he drew waves of bad press that culminated in a 2017 arrest on charges of sexual assault. His lawyer said the alleged victim made it all up “to go after his fortune.” The assault charges were later dropped.

The other was Marie Holmes of North Carolina. After winning a 2015 Powerball jackpot, she spent millions on a fiancé who was prison-bound. She later appeared on an Oprah Winfrey Network show titled “Iyanla, Fix My Life,” recounting the ways her life had fallen apart.

For the remaining 20 Powerball millionaires, the trail went mostly quiet. At least two are dead, while the others are living out of the public eye.

One of the 20 unheralded winners, William ten Broeke, has quietly supported medical research and education through an Atlanta foundation. Another family lives in a $6 million. 10-bedroom home on 320 acres in rural Tennessee with a private lake. according to a report from a local television station. WHBQ. Several others own million-dollar homes, which suggests they haven’t “frittered away” their fortunes.

None of those families made national headlines in the decade or more since they won Powerball. They seem to be doing fine.

That leaves a question people keep asking—sometimes with a kind of dread: if the lottery curse exists, where is it?

For many winners, the “curse” is real—but not in the way people expect

Popular culture frames the lottery curse as a morality tale. The stories tend to end with broken families, dashed fortunes or death, taught as “easy come, easy go.” But lottery winners point to a different kind of damage—less like a hex and more like a period of celebrity hell.

“When you have money, it doesn’t solve all of your problems,” said Thomas Murphy, a certified financial planner in Dallas who has worked with lottery winners. “It solves some of your problems. And it introduces a whole host of new problems with which you have absolutely no background or experience.”

A big lottery win can pull public attention like gravity. When winners’ names leak out, phones ring constantly. Social media pages and email inboxes fill with messages from long-lost relatives and complete strangers. Doorsbell visits start showing up at odd hours, and everyone wants a piece of the winnings.

Susan Brands of St. Charles, Missouri, said that after her $96.5 million Powerball jackpot in 2014, “we had all kinds of letters from people who said God told them we were going to give them money.”

For her and others, the “curse” eventually lifts. Stephen Durrell. executive director of the Kansas Lottery and chair of the Powerball Product Group. described what winners often experience once the initial chaos passes: “I’ve been there with people who have gotten the check. and seen the look on their faces. the realization of how their lives have now changed. and their grandchildren’s lives have now changed. ” he said. “And it’s a tremendous feeling.”.

The winners who used the money—and the attention—differently

Nine winners were highlighted for making the most of their jackpots in ways that were described as charitable, stable, and community-focused.

John and Susan Brands, St. Charles, Missouri

When John Brands and Susan Brands learned they had won a $96.5 million Powerball jackpot on a March morning in 2014, they walked around their home in daze. They then had a celebratory meal at a Waffle House.

They had heard about the lottery curse, and shortly after claiming their prize, they began to understand what it meant. John Brands, 49 at the time, quit his job as a civil engineer. At 7 a.m. the next morning, his phone rang. It was the daughter of his former boss, who was a financial adviser and wanted their business.

“We had people showing up at our house,” Susan Brands said. She described a man—she said she felt bad for him—who had his two little girls with him. He was described as being flat broke and having used his last two dollars to buy gas to get to their home. Susan Brands said she gave him the money in her wallet.

After the couple withdrew to a hotel, the entreaties continued. Susan Brands cited a pastor in Louisiana who said God had told him the Brands were going to give him money. She also described a friend who had endured a divorce and believed the Brands should pay off her mortgage. Dozens of strangers sent Facebook messages seeking cash.

To this day, the Brands said they do not answer the door unless they are expecting someone.

Susan Brands also offered a theory for the influx of people seeking handouts: “It’s because we won the money,” she said. “They feel entitled to a piece of the pie, because you won it. You didn’t earn the money.”

The worst episode Brands said followed the Powerball win was a protracted legal battle with an interior designer. Brands said the designer was after their money; the designer said the Brands were difficult clients. A jury ultimately found in the Brands’ favor, awarding them about $13,500 in damages.

“When you win the lottery,” Brands said, “you become a target.”

They started a foundation as a way to give back, supporting local hospitals and food banks, the Stray Dog Theatre in nearby St. Louis, Doctors Without Borders, and animal rescues.

Their biggest extravagance described was hiring a private jet to Las Vegas to sit in the front row at an Eagles concert. Susan Brands said, “We have bought a couple outrageous things, but nothing crazy. We bought a property that has a lake on it. and we love that. but we consider it an investment property.”.

She credited a “level-headed, middle-class upbringing” for keeping the family finances on track, adding, “Having this enormous amount of money. . . I don’t know. I still use coupons at the grocery store.”

Roy Cockrum, Knoxville, Tennessee

On a trip to London in 2004, Roy Cockrum witnessed a performance of the play “His Dark Materials” with 40 actors, abundant sets and a young audience that roared at the end. He said he mentally noted that if he ever had money, he would try to help American theaters reach that same level.

A decade later, at age 58, he had $260 million after a Powerball win. Cockrum had studied theater at Northwestern University and worked as a struggling actor. He also spent time as an Episcopal monk in robes when he saw the London play. eventually leaving the monastery and caring for his elderly mother when he learned he held a winning ticket.

“I literally fell to my knees,” Cockrum said. He took half of his after-tax prize—roughly $60 million—and opened a foundation with a purpose of funding ambitious theater projects in the United States. The foundation has awarded 56 grants totaling more than $34 million.

To avoid what he described as a deluge of applications, Cockrum decided to make grants by invitation. He met with artistic directors one by one, asking if there was a project they had dreamed of doing and assumed they could not afford. “I got very emotional responses to that question,” he said.

He supported two plays, “Ink” and “Prayer for the French Republic,” which later reaped Tony Award honors. “These really are important projects,” Cockrum said, “to the people who have dreamed them up and created them.”

The Smith family, Trenton, New Jersey

The Smiths were described as among the most visible lottery winners in America, rather than disappearing after the win. The Smith Family Foundation has played a leadership role in Trenton, New Jersey, for a decade.

Collectively and individually, the Smiths have given away more than $17 million. Recipients include a local YMCA and athletic center, churches, schools and human services organizations.

The foundation focuses on training nonprofit leaders and helping Trenton students finish college and find local internships. “We are sixth-generation Trentonians, so we want to make sure that we make an impact there,” Katherine Nunnally said. Nunnally is one of seven Smith children and the foundation’s executive director. She was a schoolteacher.

Nunnally described projects with an educator’s touch: backpacks and computers for at-risk students. care packages for first-generation college attenders. and space for high schoolers to do homework and meet with tutors. “I think it was something we were born to do,” Nunnally said. “There comes a point where it’s like, what else can you buy?. You have to do something that’s meaningful, something that’s fulfilling, something to help humanity.”.

Mark and Cindy Hill, Dearborn, Missouri

The Hills were described as a couple who would have considered $1,000 a major windfall. Cindy, 51, was an office manager. Mark, 52, worked in a hot dog factory. In and out of work, they won a $294 million Powerball jackpot in 2012.

Their lump sum payout worked out to roughly $390,000 for every citizen of Dearborn, Missouri, population 496. The couple chose to stay in Dearborn, outside Kansas City.

They launched a foundation and focused their lottery largesse on Mark Hill’s neighboring hometown of Camden Point. Mark Hill told a local newspaper, “I didn’t do anything to earn this. It’s not like I found a cure for cancer or anything — winning the lottery doesn’t make me special. It makes me lucky, fortunate, extremely blessed, but not special.”.

Walt Stubbs, the local fire chief, spoke to the Chicago Tribune in 2013: “It’s a situation where, if we had to do it ourselves, it would take 25 years.”

The Hills funded a scholarship at the high school they had both attended. But the story was also described as having a sad ending: Mark Hill died in 2019 at age 59.

Carl and Lulu Mitchell, Clovis, California

After Carl and Lulu Mitchell won a $213 million Powerball jackpot in 2013, the couple kept a low profile. Over the years, the reporting described their charity work as focusing on health care.

Carl, 68 at the time of the jackpot, had worked as a technologist; Lulu as a registered nurse. Through their foundation, they donated at least $2 million to medical centers that once employed them, funding early cancer detection and breast cancer technology.

Lulu is a breast cancer survivor. Carl lost both parents to cancer.

“Those experiences gave us perspective,” Carl said in a release accompanying one of the donations. “And it’s eye-opening when you realize that your life is on the line and these are the people and treatments that can save you.”

David and Erica Harrig, Gretna, Nebraska

The Harrigs were described as going “a little crazy” after winning a $61 million Powerball jackpot in 2013. They quit their jobs, bought a new home, some farmland and a Corvette, and took cruises. After that, they settled down.

Their new house sat in Gretna, Nebraska, a suburb of Omaha. Dave Harrig became a volunteer firefighter.

They followed what was described as a cardinal rule of investing: they spent the interest but kept the principal. They did not tap the actual winnings until they contributed to a new firefighting museum in their hometown.

Dave Harrig told the Associated Press nearly a decade after their win, “We have nicer things, a bigger house, and more than we ever had in the past. But we are the same, and my wife and I keep each other in check.”

Dave Honeywell, Fredericksburg, Virginia

After Dave Honeywell won a $217 million Powerball jackpot in 2013, he pursued a classic lottery-winner dream. Honeywell. 53. bought a shuttered island resort called Mar Vista—rustic waterfront cabins and homes in Washington State—for a reported $6 million. He then set about building a family compound.

By 2014, the Honeywells and their compound were entangled in local controversy. State officials fined them for cutting down trees on a stretch of protected shoreline. A local NPR station reported that “Not long after he bought the Mar Vista,” Honeywell proceeded to mar the vista.

On San Juan Island, reporting said the family ruffled more feathers by proposing to build a nearly 300-foot dock “jutting out into an orca habitat.” After more than 100 public comments, the county revoked its approval.

The reporting said the dust-ups might have pushed the Honeywells away from their island paradise. but that the controversy eventually calmed. In the years since. the Honeywells have quietly given back to the island. supporting the local arts community. food bank and animal shelter and giving scholarships through their foundation.

The foundation dispenses $350,000 to $500,000 a year, according to the family’s attorney, Stephanie Johnson O’Day. The family declined an interview. O’Day said in an email, “They’re very private people.”

John “Jack” Long, Fontana, California

Jack Long, 76, had to avoid Inland Empire heat because of a health condition. To stay cool, he made regular trips to the market in his power wheelchair to buy popsicles.

On one of those trips in 2014, he bought a winning Powerball ticket. The pot was worth $60 million. He took a lump sum of $35.9 million before taxes.

He said he would use the money to buy cars for his daughters, a house for his grandkids and a trip to Italy. He said he liked his own house and car just fine.

Long set up the Fontana Foundation of Hope, donating more than $5 million in and around Fontana, California, outside San Bernardino. His giving included a local children’s fund, baseball and softball leagues and public-school programs.

He was also described as having bought something for himself: a faster wheelchair. He died in 2023 at age 83.

James Stocklas, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania

One evening in 2016, James Stocklas, 67, was dining at a sports bar in the Florida Keys when he glimpsed a yacht on the water. He said, “I need to hit the lottery for this,” and snapped a photo on his phone, according to an account in a local paper.

Hours later, he bought a lottery ticket that would win him $291 million. Stocklas learned he had won while sitting in a diner in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and he celebrated by buying breakfast for his fellow diners.

He grew up in public housing, with a father who worked for Bethlehem Steel. After working in the steel mill, he quit and entered public life, eventually serving in county council and as a district judge.

Stocklas was retired by the time of his Powerball win, which netted a lump-sum payment of $191 million. The reporting said he split it with two friends who had joined in a lottery pool, and after taxes the winnings worked out to about $40 million each.

He lives now in a $5 million waterfront home in the Florida Keys, according to property records. In a text message, he said, “Doing well.” He added: “Charitable endeavors, property investment, yes, buying breakfast, and loads of donations to worthwhile people and events.”

Some winners got headlines for the wrong reasons

James Stocklas gained celebrity for his win, but the reporting described it as positive and short-lived. Not every Powerball winner was able to escape the glare.

Pedro Quezada, Passaic, N.J.

Quezada, 44, won a $338 million Powerball jackpot in 2013. He was described as an immigrant from the Dominican Republic who worked 18 hours a day running a bodega in New Jersey.

After his win, the reporting described a tabloid-heavy run of disputes and accusations. A woman stepped forward claiming Quezada owed $30,000 in back child support, and a judge ordered him to pay it.

Another former romantic partner sued Quezada, saying she deserved a share of the winnings. The reporting said they later reconciled and she dropped the suit.

The reporting also described claims from former neighbors that Quezada backed out of a pledge to cover their rent, as reported by the Daily Mail. A former landlord was also described as saying Quezada skipped out on his own rent.

In 2017, the reporting said the biggest bombshell dropped: a woman alleged Quezada had sexually molested her for three years, starting when she was 11. He was charged with multiple counts of sexual assault.

His lawyer, Steven Wukovits, said Quezada was innocent and that the woman had made up the allegations to go after his Powerball money. Wukovits told The New York Times, “The greatest day is when you win the lottery,” and “the saddest day is every day thereafter.”

Those charges were later dropped.

Wukovits told in an email that Quezada reportedly returned to the Dominican Republic and was “enjoying his life there.”

Marie Holmes, Shallotte, North Carolina

When Holmes won a $188 million Powerball jackpot in 2015, she was described as working five low-paying jobs. She had been living in a mobile home with her mother and children.

The reporting said Holmes had ambitious plans for the winnings, including giving to her church and charities, finishing her college degree, buying her mother a bigger home and “secure the future” for herself and her four kids, according to a Powerball release.

A year later, Holmes was on an Oprah Winfrey Network reality show titled “Iyanla, Fix My Life,” recounting the ways her life had fallen apart.

The reporting said host Iyanla Vanzant chided Holmes for squandering much of her fortune, buying properties and paying allowances to hangers-on.

Holmes also repeatedly spent millions of dollars bailing her fiancé out of jail before he went to prison on drug charges. The couple broke up. and the ex-fiancé sued. claiming she had bought him—and now owed him—a $600. 000 automotive business. a $250. 000 Chevrolet Stingray. two dump trucks worth $125. 000. $100. 000 in jewelry and clothes. and 77 acres of property to build a dirt bike track.

The reporting said the bad headlines eventually faded and Holmes retreated from the public eye.

Her Powerball story remains, in the reporting, another cautionary tale—one that keeps resurfacing online in “lottery curse” roundups.

Even if the curse doesn’t follow most winners, the aftermath is still real

The numbers that emerged from following these 31 winners over a decade or more point away from a simple disaster narrative. A handful of headline-heavy breakdowns exist, and two of them were detailed with enough detail to test the old myth. But much of what the project uncovered lived in the quieter space between tabloid flash and total anonymity.

For some winners, the first shock wasn’t financial ruin—it was an onslaught of attention, demands and legal friction. For others. the money became a tool for foundations. scholarships. health-care giving. firefighting museums. and community projects that outlast the initial rush. And for a few. the glare turned into something darker. with charges and public conflict that followed years after the jackpot.

So if there is a “lottery curse,” this review suggests it doesn’t land on everyone. It lands on attention, on vulnerability, and on the chaos that comes when millions change hands fast—and the people around winners decide they deserve a say in what happens next.

Powerball lottery winners $50 million jackpots lottery curse charitable foundations Pedro Quezada Marie Holmes economic impact of lottery wins United States financial news