The violent, shocking murder of legendary Italian fashion designer Gianni Versace at his home in Miami Beach, Florida, in July 1997 remains one of the most mysterious crimes of the decade. Known for his mastery of skintight fabrics, cleavage-enhancing silhouettes and dangerously high-cut slits, to be dressed in one of Versace's creations was a milestone for any would-be bombshell of the era. His professional and personal aesthetic was one of over-the-top decadence, unapologetic luxury and sensory indulgence, the embodiment of the elite fashion world he inhabited at its most fantastical, frivolous and fun. But Versace was also a trailblazer in his personal life, boldly coming out of the closet in the 1980s at a time when many gay celebrities – fashion designers included – were still in the closet. When Versace was shot twice on the front steps of his lavish mansion by Andrew Cunanan, the party was suddenly over and his loss was felt across the world.
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The second season of Ryan Murphy's hit anthology series American Crime Story revisits this sensational crime and the mysterious backstory of spree killer Andrew Cunanan, who killed four men before Versace. Like the critically acclaimed first season, The People Vs. O.J. Simpson, the dramatization features a stellar cast donning over-the-top costumes that capture the "heat and sizzle" of late-20th century Miami. Look-a-like Edgar Ramirez plays Versace, singer Ricky Martin returns to acting as his longtime love, Antonio D'Amico, Glee's Darren Criss is almost unrecognizable as Cunanan and Penelope Cruz takes on her most iconic role ever as Versace's beloved sister, muse and design partner Donatella. Originally slated to be the series's third season, The Assassination of Gianni Versace was flip-flopped with the planned second season about Hurricane Katrina, due to production delays. But if Versace's loved ones had their way, there might not be a series at all.
Calling the show "a work of fiction," the Versace family released two statements this month, saying they did not authorize or have any involvement in its creation, and condemned the book on which the series is based. Vulgar Favors: Andrew Cunanan, Gianni Versace, and the Largest Failed Manhunt in U.S. History, written by Vanity Fair journalist Maureen Orth, is, according to the Versace family, a "sensational story" that is "full of gossip and speculation." On one hand, their reaction is unsurprising, as many in Versace's family and inner circle had refused to be interviewed and resisted the publication of Orth's book in 1999. On the other, Donatella quite explicitly gave her blessing to Murphy back in 2017, when the project was first announced. Perhaps the Versace family only just realized the degree to which Murphy's script relies on Vulgar Favors. Either way, here's the real story behind Ryan Murphy's latest historical deep-dive.
AP
According to those who knew him, Cunanan's resentments seemed mostly to be fixated on class and status. By all accounts, Cunanan wasn't in the closet, and was a regular fixture at gay bars and clubs in his hometown of San Diego, California. Cunanan came from a working class background and often didn't have a job, yet he was known for being "very pretentious," a "big spender and an even bigger talker."
"He would walk in with an entourage and always pay for the bill," one friend told 48 Hours. "He wanted the illusion that it was his money."
It wasn't. Cunanan reportedly dated much older, wealthier men who bankrolled his lifestyle and introduced him to high-powered social circles that would otherwise be off-limits. According to Vulgar Favors, this is how Versace and Cunanan first met, albeit briefly, at a party in San Francisco seven years before the murder. (Donatella Versace, for what it's worth, denies that her brother ever met Cunanan.)
It's still not entirely clear what triggered Cunanan's two-week-long cross-country killing spree which precipitated Versace's murder and claimed four other victims. But friends have since suggested that Cunanan had recently been dumped by his older boyfriend, leaving him without money or a posh place to live. He'd put on weight, and was allegedly dabbling in drugs. Then, out of the blue, in late April 1997, Cunanan bought a one-way ticket to Minneapolis, where he would begin his killing spree. His first victim was Jeff Trail, a friend and former military serviceman, who was found beaten to death with a hammer in an apartment on April 27th. The apartment belonged to David Madsen, with whom Cunanan had once had a fling. Madsen was Cunanan's second victim; his body washed ashore about an hour away not long after. He had been shot in the head.
Cunanan drove Madsen's car to Chicago, where he claimed his third victim, real estate developer Lee Miglin, who was found stabbed and tortured to death in his mansion on May 4th. After swapping Madsen's car for Miglin's Lexus, Cunanan headed for New Jersey, where he fatally shot his fourth victim, chosen seemingly at random. William Reese's body was found inside Miglin's stolen Lexus on May 9th, parked at the New Jersey cemetery where Reese worked. By then, Cunanan was on way to Miami Beach, behind the wheel of Reese's red pickup. He wouldn't kill again for another two months.
Cunanan did not cover his tracks well, and left behind ample evidence at each of the crime scenes, and it wasn't long before he was identified and a nationwide manhunt began. The FBI was involved and Cunanan was featured on America's Most Wanted, yet he managed to evade capture, even as he used his own name to pawn stolen items and made appearances on the Miami social scene. Those involved with The Assassination of Gianni Versace have suggested that homophobia, particularly within law enforcement, decreased the urgency of the investigation, as if a gay man who kills other gay men was considered less of a threat worth prioritizing than the average heterosexual spree killer.
"The underlying subject is homophobia and how homophobia killed him," star Edgar Ramirez told the Associated Press. "That's something that comes up over and over when we look into the investigation. … Cunanan was on the news every night, on the most-wanted list, and for some reason all the law enforcement authorities couldn't get him."
All the while, Cunanan was reportedly relishing being in the spotlight, but with four murders under his belt, life as he knew it would be over soon enough. Those familiar with the case believe that Cunanan went to Miami with a plan, having set his sights on killing someone whose death would cement his own name in history. Gianni Versace represented everything Cunanan wanted to be: rich, famous and adored.
Versace, meanwhile, had been in Europe putting the finishing touches on his latest collection, and was blissfully ignorant of the manhunt going on back in the U.S. He and D'Amico planned to spend the summer relaxing at their Miami Beach retreat, and had only been in town for five days when Cunanan put his plan into motion.
At around 8 a.m. on July 15th, Versace – who had run out to purchase magazines from a nearby cafe — was about to unlock the front gate to Casa Casuarina when Cunanan approached and shot him twice, at point blank range, first in the face and then in his neck, killing him instantly. Cunanan vanished just as quickly as he appeared, though a witness attempted a pursuit. It didn't take long for police to locate the stolen red truck, which had Cunanan's clothes and identification inside. For the next nine days, Cunanan remained illusive.
David Lees/The LIFE Images Collection/Getty Images
On July 22nd, 1997, Gianni Versace was laid to rest following a memorial service attended by 2,000 people, including close friends Elton John, Sting and Princess Diana, designers Karl Lagerfeld and Georgio Armani, and numerous supermodels whose careers he helped launch.
The following day, on July 23rd, Cunanan, who had broken into a houseboat just a few miles away from Casa Casuarina, committed suicide with the same gun he used to kill Madsen, Reese and Versace. He did not leave a suicide note, nor any clues that might help explain the brutality of his actions. While some questions have been answered in the over 20 years since – and The Assassination of Gianni Versace aims to illuminate the broader cultural context in which the murders occurred – Cunanan will forever remain one of the most puzzling killers in crime history.
The life of Andrew Cunanan was shrouded in mystery, with few people truly knowing the man who murdered Gianni Versace.
In the premiere episode of American Crime Story, viewers were exposed to some of the many lies he told friends and strangers, along with a few shocking truths.
And none is more shocking than the fact that Versace and Cunanan had met at a San Francisco gay club in 1990, and by all accounts had a cordial conversation.
Seven years later, the friendly young man Versace met in The Golden Gate City would shoot him dead on the steps of his Miami mansion.
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Operatic: The night Gianni Versace and Andrew Cunanan met is seen in the premiere episode of American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace (Edgar ramirez and Versace and Darren Criss as Cunanan above)
Recreation: The pair met in 1990 at the San Fransisco gay club Colossus according to two eyewitnesses, who spoke with Maureen Orth for her book Vulgar Favors (Ramirez as Versace above)
Deadly friend: Versace, who was in town designing costumes for openingf night of the opera, made his way over to Cunanan, and said: 'I know you. Lago di Como, no?' (Criss above as Cunanan)
The depiction of how Cunanan (played by Darren Criss) came to meet Versace (played by Edar Ramirez) in American Crime Story is fairly close to how it was presented in the source material for the series, Maureen Orth's book Vulgar Favors.
Orth spoke to two people who saw Cunanan with Versace at Colossus, a popular San Francisco gay club.
Versace reportedly stopped by the club for three straight weeks on Saturday nights while he was in the city designing costumes for the opening night of Capriccio at the San Francisco Opera.
And one at least one of those nights, and possibly two, he was seen chatting with Versace.
The first source Orth spoke to about this was Eli Gould, a friend of Cunanan's and high-profile lawyer who said he was with Cunanan the night he met Versace.
The two men were in the VIP section at Colossus when Versace walked in with his entourage.
He later made his way over to Cunanan, and said: 'I know you. Lago di Como, no?'
Slain: Cunanan would shoot Versace dead on the steps of the designer's Miami mansion seven years later after a cross-country killing spree
Final look: Versace was just 55 at the time of his death, and days away from taking his compnay public
Orth writes that this was how he would strike up conversations with strangers, and that Cunanan made no attempt to correct the famed designer.
'Thank you for remembering, Signor Versace,' said Cunanan, and he made small talk with the designer before Gould said the two went down to the dance floor.
Eric Gruenwald, another attorney, claims he too saw Versace and Cunanan speaking at the club one night, though it is unclear if that was the same night he was with Gould or another evening.
The rest however, was all a lie, with Cunanan's claims that he accompanied Versace to opening night of the opera and claims that the two had dinner together once a year nothing more than a fantasy.
That fantasy eventually turned fatal, and the aftermath of Versace's murder can be seen next Tuesday on American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace.
With The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story set to air on FX, there’s been a renewed public interest into the shocking murder of Gianni Versace, the prolific fashion designer and founder of the Versace clothing empire. In July of 1997, Versace was murdered outside his Miami mansion, marking the end of Andrew Cunanan’s murder spree. But in the 20 years that followed, numerous questions about the spree killings — and Cunanan’s motivations — have lingered.
In an in-depth look into Cunanan, Maureen Orth — who was completing a profile of Cunanan for Vanity Fair at the time of the Versace murder, which she later expanded into Vulgar Favors, the true crime book used by Ryan Murphy as source material for The Assassination of Gianni Versace — details a pathological liar with brilliant mind who was obsessed with the opulent, lavish lifestyle of those around him.
While Versace may have been the most high-profile victim of Cunanan’s, prior to the killer’s arrival in Miami he murdered at least four others in the span of a few months, across three states, landing him on the F.B.I. Most Wanted List.
Time Life Pictures/Fbi/The LIFE Picture Collection/Getty Images
So why did Cunanan target Versace?
While Cunanan’s motives for seeking out Versace were never formally revealed — he committed suicide just eight days after the murder — it appears the fashion designer represented the materialism and high society lifestyle Cunanan was desperate for himself.
According to Orth, who interviewed and met with a staggering number of friends and acquaintances of Cunanan for her Vanity Fair profile and Vulgar Favors, Cunanan and Versace’s paths briefly crossed in San Francisco in the early ’90s, but whether the two ever actually met has been long disputed.
Cunanan, whose pathological tendencies reportedly often found him telling embellished or entirely made-up stories about his experiences with various celebrities, apparently frequently recounted his encounter with Versace — with great exaggeration — and seemed to develop a sort of obsession with the designer. Following the murders of his four other victims, Cunanan traveled to Miami where he stayed for two months, frequenting the same restaurants and diners as Versace, before killing the designer.
While Orth’s in-depth reporting and published works on Cunanan and his killing spree have generally led the narrative surrounding the 1997 events, in light of The Assassination of Gianni Versace, the Versace family released a scathing statement calling Orth’s Vulgar Favors a “work of fiction.”
"As we have said, the Versace family has neither authorized nor had any involvement whatsoever in the forthcoming TV series about the death of Mr. Gianni Versace, which should only be considered as a work of fiction,” the statement began. “The company producing the series claims it is relying on a book by Maureen Orth, but the Orth book itself is full of gossip and speculation. Orth never received any information from the Versace family and she has no basis to make claims about the intimate personal life of Gianni Versace or other family members. Instead, in her effort to create a sensational story, she presents second-hand hearsay that is full of contradictions."
Random House, which published Vulgar Favors and Ryan Murphy, whose series the Versace family also called a “work of fiction,” have since released statements in defense of Orth.
See Murphy’s take on the Cunanan murders when The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story premieres on FX tonight.
Even before its owner, Gianni Versace, was shot on its front steps, Casa Casuarina was a tourist attraction in Miami Beach. One of very few privately owned homes on glitzy Ocean Drive, it was an attention-grabber even for those who did not know who lived there: black iron gates trimmed in gold framed the Mediterranean-style mansion outfitted with elaborate balconies, and just enough visible glitz to promise even more inside.
But for all the historic importance implied by the name and the classic style, 1116 Ocean Drive was famous because of Versace—and may become even more so, now that the FX series The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, which filmed in part in the actual Casa Casuarina, is premiering Wednesday. Notorious for its over-the-top style and the horrifying death that happened at its gates, Casa Casuarina has a fascinating backstory all its own—one that begins with a possibly closeted oil heir, comes dangerously close to Donald Trump, and ends with the opportunity for you, yes you, to sleep in Gianni Versace’s old bedroom.
For more discussion of American Crime Story and its real-life inspiration, subscribe to Vanity Fair’s new podcast Still Watching: Versace.
The mansion was originally commissioned by Standard Oil heir Alden Freeman in 1930, and was named for the only tree on the property, as Maureen Orth writes in her book about Andrew Cunanan, Vulgar Favors—or possibly, as the Miami Herald speculated last year, for the W. Somerset Maugham collection of stories The Casuarina Tree. Freeman, who had retired at 27 to travel the world, designed the house as a copy of the Dominican Republic home built for Christopher Columbus’s son Diego in the early 16th century. Freeman only lived in the mansion for a short time, in the company of his adopted son, Charles Boulton; according to Miami Beach historian Carolyn Klepser, interviewed by the Miami Herald, Boulton may have in fact been Freeman’s lover.
After Freeman’s death in 1937, Boulton sold the mansion for $100,000 to Jacques Amsterdam. He turned it into the Amsterdam Palace, a 24-room apartment building that, by the 80s, mostly rented by the month to artists and anyone else willing to live in what was, by then, a rundown South Beach. The Art Deco buildings that had defined the resort town’s heyday in the 30s and 40s were crumbling; preservationists struggled to convince city officials they were worth protecting at all. “Until recently, the city had the idea that nothing was worth saving in the Art Deco District,” Miami Beach redevelopment director Stuart Rogel told the Herald in 1987. “It looked old, it looked bad and we wanted to get rid of it. Now we realize we are sitting on top of a resource of immense value.”
Top, by Lynne Sladky/AP/REX/Shutterstock; Bottom, by Ken Hayden.
The legend of Versace’s arrival in South Beach leans heavily on chance. Versace told the Herald in 1993 that, passing through town on his way to Cuba, he asked a cab driver to show him something “fancy and fun” about South Beach. Then he fell in love. Speaking to The New York Times, Donatella Versace remembered walking though South Beach with her brother and stopping in front of the rundown Amsterdam Hotel. “Gianni just stopped in front of the building and said, ‘I want this house.’ Just like that, ‘I want this house.’ But it wasn’t a house; it was literally an apartment building, and people were living in it! I said, ‘Gianni, how are you going do that?’ It was 10 o’clock in the evening. He said, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get the lawyers,’ and he did it, I don’t know how. Like many things in his life.”
The mansion had been given historic designation in 1979, and as The New York Times wrote in 1993, South Beach preservationists cheered Versace as the building’s savior. He ran into trouble, though, when he announced plans to tear down the adjacent Revere Hotel to make room for a pool and a garage. Built more than 20 years after Casa Casuarina, the hotel didn’t have historic designation, and plenty of Miami officials didn’t think it deserved it. “The Revere is not a very impressive building at all, and there is no one who can tell me it is,” Miami Beach mayor Seymour Gelber told the Times. “Personally, I don’t feel it is a great loss.”
Versace got his way—the pool is featured prominently in American Crime Story—and the bad blood seemed to dissipate quickly. In 1995, he accepted an award from the Florida Trust for Historic Preservation for Meritorious Achievement in Residential Rehabilitation.
Courtesy of FX.
The mansion became a landmark, not just as an emblem of the new celebrity status of South Beach, but for the lavish parties Versace threw, and its famous houseguests— Madonna, Princess Diana, and Elton John are all frequently cited as some of the biggest names who spent the night at Casa Casuarina. “All of a sudden, what was going on in L.A. moved here when Gianni came here,” Donatella Versace told The New York Times in 2001. “All the fashion shoots were happening here. Music people, fashion people, actors—he attracted everyone here. He had that power. In the courtyard, right here, you’d see Italian architects, writers, Richard Avedon, Madonna, a mix of people.”
In 1997, Vanity Fair’s Cathy Horyn spent time with Donatella in her brother’s mansion; the issue containing that story, with Princess Diana on the cover, was on newsstands when Gianni was shot on July 15. (The opening moments of American Crime Story show him buying a copy at a newsstand down the street.) Horyn describes Versace as having “the most outrageous taste anybody has ever seen, but the underlying message is absolute freedom.” The dining room, she writes, has “marble and shell reliefs and scrolling mosaics running on for 30 feet.”
Bruce Weber’s photographs from the December 1994 issue of Vogue capture even more elaborate detail: the dining room turned into a pebbled grotto, Donatella Versace’s bedroom with a canvas painted in Milan on the ceiling, and the central courtyard featuring four busts, preserved from Freeman’s original designs, each representing a different continent.
Versace’s highly public death made his mansion a grim tourist attraction for several years, but Casa Casuarina’s strange story was far from over. By February 2001, Sotheby’s was preparing to auction many of Versace’s belongings; as Donatella told the Times, she had even made an effort to remove the Versace Medusa logos embedded within the house—at least, as many as she could. The property was sold to Peter Loftin, a telecom entrepreneur who, according to the Herald, began using the house to host parties for $10,000 a night, and later turned it into an invitation-only club with yearly dues of $3,600. (Loftin was already a member at Mar-a-Lago, owned by Donald Trump, who will show up again in this story soon). By 2005, the club had opened up to high-roller guests willing to spend up to $4,000 a night to stay in one of Versace’s former bedrooms.
The trouble for Loftin began in 2009, when Scott Rothstein, a Fort Lauderdale-based lawyer who had joined as a minority investor in the club’s restaurant, was arrested for running a billion-dollar Ponzi scheme. Later, the Casa reopened as a hotel, under the leadership of Barton G. Weiss, though Loftin remained the majority owner. That only lasted until 2013, when Loftin filed for bankruptcy and put the mansion on the market, with an initial, staggering asking price of $125 million.
By the time the building went to auction in September 2013, the asking price had been reduced to $75 million—but the spectacle was in full bloom. None other than Donald Trump was making a bid, sending Eric Trump to the auction because the future president, as he told the Herald, was busy touring a golf project with Jack Nicklaus. The auction earned the liveblog treatment from Curbed Miami, and the eventual winner was VM South Beach LLC, a company whose principal owners are the Nakash family—owners of Jordache. The final selling price? $41.5 million.
Under the Nakash family’s ownership, Casa Casuarina remains a hotel, one still hot enough to host Art Basel parties and charge over $1,000 a night for a room in one of its 10 suites. For all its opulence, though, the building’s value may be mostly in its infamy; according to the Herald, the Casa had an estimated 2017 market value of $23.4 million.
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