South Beach, Miami, July 15, 1997. The morning sun glinted off the opulent gates of Casa Casuarina, the sprawling mansion belonging to fashion titan Gianni Versace. As Versace returned from his routine walk to a nearby café, coffee and newspapers in hand, the familiar calm was shattered. Two gunshots echoed through the humid air.

Versace collapsed, his vibrant life extinguished in an instant. The perpetrator, a young man seen fleeing the scene, was quickly identified: Andrew Cunanan, 27, already the subject of a nationwide manhunt. Versace would be his fifth, and final, victim.

The brazen attack thrust Cunanan, a Filipino-American with a complex and deeply deceptive past, onto the global stage, cementing his place in the dark annals of American crime. But who was Andrew Cunanan, and what led him from a life of privilege and promise to a three-month spree of violence that ended with his own self-inflicted de@th?

Born Andrew Philip Cunanan on August 31, 1969, in National City, California, he was the youngest of four children. His father, Modesto Cunanan, a Filipino immigrant and US Navy veteran turned stockbroker, harbored immense ambitions for his youngest son. His mother, Mary Anne, devoutly Catholic, nurtured his intellect, teaching him to read the Bible by age seven.

As Modesto’s career soared in the booming 1980s, the family ascended the socio-economic ladder, moving from modest National City to affluent Bonita, and finally to the exclusive enclave of Rancho Bernardo in San Diego. Andrew was enrolled in The Bishop’s School, an elite private institution, where his parents paid a hefty tuition, signaling their arrival among the wealthy.

At Bishop’s, Andrew stood out. Possessing a reported genius-level IQ of 147, he was known for being talkative, charming, and openly gay even in the less accepting environment of the 1980s. He cultivated friendships with the children of San Diego’s elite, developing a taste for luxury and an uncanny ability to blend in. His yearbook quote, “Après moi, le déluge” (After me, the flood), attributed to Louis XV, hinted at a dramatic flair, though none could have predicted the destructive storm he would eventually unleash.

The gilded facade crumbled in October 1988. Modesto Cunanan, facing embezzlement charges, abandoned his family, fleeing to the Philippines just ahead of an arrest warrant. Overnight, the Cunanans were plunged back into poverty, relying on food stamps. Andrew, then a student at the University of California, San Diego, briefly visited his father but quickly returned, repulsed by the modest conditions.

Facing the prospect of a life without luxury, Andrew dropped out of college and began leveraging his intelligence, charm, and good looks. He started dating older, wealthy, often closeted gay men, becoming what is sometimes termed a “kept boy” or gigolo. This lifestyle provided him access to high-end restaurants, expensive wines, designer clothes, and the social status he craved.

He became a master manipulator, weaving intricate lies about his background. Depending on the audience, he was Andrew Cummings or Andrew Da Silva; a former US Navy officer, the heir to a fortune, the son of a fashion designer. He compartmentalized his life, showering younger acquaintances with gifts bought with his benefactors’ money, yet remaining elusive about his true identity and means.

Two figures became central anchors in his carefully constructed world: Jeffrey Trail, a former Navy officer who became a close friend, and David Madson, a successful Minneapolis architect Cunanan met in San Diego.

Madson became, in Cunanan’s words, the “love of his life,” though their relationship was long-distance and strained by Cunanan’s secrecy and continued reliance on other men. His primary benefactor during this period was Norman Blatchford, a wealthy older man who provided Cunanan with a lavish home, a luxury car, and a generous monthly allowance.

The carefully balanced charade began to collapse in 1996. David Madson, increasingly suspicious of Cunanan’s unexplained wealth and secretive behavior, ended their relationship. Around the same time, Jeffrey Trail accepted a job in Minnesota and moved away, distancing himself. Compounding these losses, Norman Blatchford also cut ties with Cunanan, severing his main source of income.

Suddenly stripped of financial support and emotional anchors, Cunanan spiraled. He struggled to find new benefactors in the competitive San Diego scene. Friends noticed a change: the once vibrant “life of the party” became withdrawn, gained weight, and seemed consumed by bitterness and desperation.

In April 1997, Cunanan told friends he was moving to San Francisco but would first visit Minnesota to “settle some business” with Madson and Trail.

On April 25, 1997, Cunanan arrived in Minneapolis and convinced David Madson to let him stay. Two days later, he lured Jeffrey Trail to Madson’s apartment. Neighbors reported hearing loud arguments. Later that evening, Trail was found inside Madson’s apartment, his life ended by dozens of blows from a claw hammer, his body rolled into a rug.

What happened next remains debated, but Madson and Cunanan were seen walking Cunanan’s dog the following morning. When Madson failed to show up for work, colleagues alerted the police. Four days after Trail’s demise, Madson’s body was found on the shore of Rush Lake, north of Minneapolis. He had been shot multiple times in the head and back with Trail’s handgun, which Cunanan had taken.

Now a fugitive wanted for two brutal acts, Cunanan drove Madson’s Jeep Cherokee to Chicago. On May 4, he gained entry into the luxurious home of 72-year-old real estate developer Lee Miglin. Miglin was found in his garage, his life ended through extensive torture involving garden shears and suffocation with masking tape. Cunanan stole $2,000 cash, Miglin’s suits, and his green Lexus. Madson’s Jeep was found parked nearby.

While Miglin’s family denied any connection to Cunanan, the FBI theorized it was a robbery driven by desperation. The brutality suggested a possible personal link, perhaps Miglin being a former, secret client, but this was never proven. With three victims in less than two weeks, the FBI intensified its efforts, placing Cunanan on its Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list on May 12.

Cunanan, however, seemed to revel in the notoriety rather than hide. He drove Miglin’s Lexus east, using the victim’s car phone, which allowed authorities to track his general movements toward the Philadelphia area. Alerted, the Philadelphia police held a press briefing announcing they believed Cunanan was nearby. Hearing this, Cunanan immediately abandoned the Lexus at Finn’s Point National Cemetery in Pennsville, New Jersey.

There, on May 9, he encountered the cemetery’s caretaker, 45-year-old William Reese. Needing transportation, Cunanan took Reese’s life with a single gunshot to the head, stealing his red pickup truck. Now wanted for four acts, Cunanan drove south, eventually arriving in Miami Beach around May 12.

South Beach in the 1990s was a vibrant hub for the LGBTQ+ community, a place where Cunanan could potentially blend in and find new benefactors. Astonishingly, despite being one of the most wanted men in America, he checked into the Normandy Plaza Hotel under his real name and lived there relatively openly for two months.

His luck seemed to hold, even when financial desperation led him to pawn a stolen gold coin on July 7. He used his real name and address (the hotel) and provided a thumbprint, standard procedure for pawn shops. The transaction form was sent to the police, but due to backlogs in processing pawn slips, it went unnoticed until after the Versace incident.

On July 11, just days before the Versace attack, a fast-food cashier recognized Cunanan and called 911. Police responded to the Normandy Plaza, but Cunanan had already checked out. The nationwide manhunt, involving over 1,000 FBI agents, seemed perpetually one step behind him.

Then came the morning of July 15. The attack on Gianni Versace was shocking in its audacity. Cunanan simply walked up to the designer on the steps of his own home in broad daylight and fired two shots into his head before calmly walking away. Witnesses, including Versace’s partner Antonio D’Amico, briefly pursued Cunanan but retreated when he brandished his weapon.

Reese’s red pickup truck was quickly found in a nearby parking garage. Inside, police discovered Cunanan’s clothes, passport, IDs, and newspaper clippings about the previous acts – confirming his identity and linking him to the entire spree.

The motive for targeting Versace remained elusive. Theories ranged from a past, fleeting encounter between the two, to Cunanan’s envy of Versace’s success and lifestyle, to a desperate act aimed at achieving ultimate infamy.

The Versace hit turned the manhunt into a media inferno. Cunanan’s face was ubiquitous. Fear gripped Miami. Finally, on July 23, eight days after the Versace attack, a caretaker for an empty houseboat reported hearing a gunshot after realizing someone had broken in. A SWAT team surrounded the houseboat.

After a tense standoff involving tear gas, they entered to find Andrew Cunanan de@d in the master bedroom, wearing only boxer shorts. He had ended his own life using the same .40 caliber handgun he had used on Madson, Reese, and Versace.

The reign of terror was over, but the questions remained. The FBI suggested a possible motive of revenge, speculating Cunanan might have contracted HIV and targeted former partners or associates, though no evidence confirmed he was HIV positive.

His family, particularly his father, attempted to paint him as innocent, a victim of circumstance or even a frame-up, suggesting Mafia involvement in Versace’s demise.

These claims were widely dismissed. Andrew Cunanan’s ashes were interred in San Diego, leaving behind a legacy not of brilliance or charm, but of lies, violence, and the tragic, inexplicable destruction of five lives, ending with his own.