Ed Bolian thought he’d seen it all. In college, he started an exotic car rental company in Atlanta. It wasn’t easy—some months, after making his car payments, he had just $6 left in the bank. But he hustled, cleaned cars late into the night, and kept the dream alive. Little did he know, a stolen Ferrari would nearly sink him.

One day, a retired Atlanta police officer walked into his office. He wanted to rent Ed’s Lamborghini Gallardo and Ferrari 612 Scaglietti for the weekend. To Ed, it seemed perfect. A former cop? Totally trustworthy. The customer even agreed to return the cars by Wednesday, well ahead of Ed’s wedding that Saturday.

Then the customer extended the rentals. Ed didn’t mind. The man came into the office, paid cash, and seemed like a reliable repeat customer. By Tuesday, though, things started to get weird. The customer stopped answering calls.

Silence and the Lambo in a body shop

Wednesday arrived, and the cars were still missing. Ed called the customer, but the man had turned his phone off. So Ed turned to the trackers installed on his fleet. The Lamborghini’s signal pinged in Midtown Atlanta, parked outside a body shop. When Ed arrived, his heart sank. “The whole front was knocked off of it,” he recalled. The customer hadn’t told him about the accident. Ed arranged for a tow truck to take the car to his preferred repair shop.

The Ferrari was another story. Its tracker had gone silent. With no tracker and no leads, the car was officially missing.

Stolen Ferrari found: “My Husband Bought Your Car”

Thursday night, during Ed’s bachelor party, a call came from an unknown number. It was a woman claiming her husband had purchased Ed’s stolen Ferrari from an employee of his rental company. “We gave him $15,000 in cash and a BMW as a trade,” she explained. She wanted the deal undone.

Ed told her bluntly, “Ma’am, literally every part of that sentence is a problem.”

The man who had “sold” the stolen Ferrari wasn’t an employee. He was the rental customer. And what he had done wasn’t a deal—it was theft.

The woman dug in, claiming possession was “nine-tenths of the law.” Ed shot back, “Ma’am, it’s a rental car. Possession is literally zero-tenths of the law.”

A nightmare of a wedding week

Ed spent the rest of the week juggling phone calls with the police, body shops, and the couple. The stolen Ferrari’s tracking signal occasionally flickered to life, showing up at restaurants and malls, but it vanished before Ed could recover it. Meanwhile, the Lamborghini repairs loomed, and the clock ticked toward his wedding day.

On Friday, Ed finally met the rental customer at a Waffle House. The man admitted he had sold the stolen Ferrari to someone named “Lucky.” But Lucky wasn’t answering calls, and no one knew where he lived.

With no resolution, Ed went through with his wedding, phone in hand. During the ceremony, he nervously wondered, “What do I do if my phone rings?” It didn’t, but the car was still missing when he left for his honeymoon.

A fake check for a stolen Ferrari

When Ed returned, he tracked down Lucky. Lucky demanded $5,000 to return the stolen Ferrari. Ed called the police for advice. Their response? “Ask if he’ll take a check.”

Ed met Lucky in a parking lot, handed over the check, and retrieved the stolen Ferrari. Predictably, Lucky tried cashing it, but Ed had already canceled payment. “That’s an extortion payment for stolen property,” he told his bank.

Lucky wasn’t happy. He even showed up at Ed’s warehouse to complain about the bounced check. Ed stood his ground. “What you’ve done is extort payment for the return of stolen property. I’m not interested in participating in that.”

Ed never heard from Lucky again. He eventually sold his entire car rental business and went to work as a salesman at the local Lamborghini dealership. But the incident left a lasting impression—and a wild story to tell. See Ed fill in the details of the story in the video below: