In the glittering heart of Detroit’s entertainment district, the famed MGM Grand casino buzzed with the symphony of chance and the dance of fortune-seekers. Among them was one Denise Ezell, a 65-year-old matriarch of the blackjack tables whose bond with the establishment spanned over two decades. On the evening of October 30, Ezell, accompanied by a companion, was submerged in the ritual of progressive blackjack, a game where the hopeful place side bets praying to the fates for a compatible alignment of cards—cards that could erupt into a jackpot of dreams.
As the fateful hand was dealt, Ezell’s heart danced to the rhythm of flipping cards. With her fate clasped tightly in her hands—jack and king of spades—and the dealer revealing an ace and queen of the same suit, the impossible became reality: a four-card straight flush burst forth, ushering in the moment that would ensnare Ezell’s fortunes. The wave of ecstasy was palpable, sweeping through the crowd in high fives and shared cheers—for it was a victory unseen before, a jackpot that had eluded all until Ezell’s touch.
However, the crescendo of her triumph was met with a jarring silence, a dissonance in the melody of her joy. When asked to present identification, a mere formality before the payout, the casino management dropped a curtain of dismay upon her: instead of triumph, trespass. Accused of violating the sanctum of the casino she had patronized for years, Ezell was denied her jackpot and asked to leave.
The roots of this accusation burrowed back to 2015, when Ezell found herself entangled in a misunderstanding involving her cousin and an argument over a lending arrangement while gambling, which misguidedly earned her the label of a “panhandler.” Confronted with the steel gaze of casino security, Ezell was 86’d—a term denoting ejection and denied returning. With the tumble of inquiry, “How long does this last?” she recalls being assured of a ban lasting no more than a day or two. Yet, no formal banishment ensued. No letter, no call, no notice. The invisible shackles were seemingly unfastened as Ezell continued to frequent the establishment without incident hundreds of times since, her presence and patronage unquestioned.
Ironically, it was the whispered promise of victory, a vow from a staffer, assuring that the absurdity of a trespass claim against a loyal patron wouldn’t withhold her rightful winnings, that fueled Ezell’s spirits. The cruel twist arrived with a call back; fate had slipped from her grasp, the matter escalated beyond the reach of hopeful reassurances.
The stark contrast of treatment by the casino became her refrain: when fortune frowned, her losses were eagerly gathered by the casino, but when luck smiled, the doors of reward slammed shut. MGM Grand, ensnared in the net of the pending lawsuit and asked to respond, held their tongue, having not formally received the legal challenge.
Yet, amidst the havoc of withheld joy and the cacophony of what she deemed as “bull***t,” Ezell stood resolute, her eyes set on the justice of winnings denied. The echo of the dealer’s excitement, the memory of jubilant high fives, the scent of triumph that was once within reach—these fuel her fight against the behemoth, from the depths of dice and cards to the solemn halls of law.
