SANTA CLARA, CALIFORNIA - SEPTEMBER 20: Kyle Juszczyk #44 of the San Francisco 49ers collides with Chris Johnson #3 of the Miami Dolphins while scoring a receiving touchdown in the third quarter of a game at Levi's Stadium on September 20, 2026 in Santa Clara, California.
A Miami psychic investigates the infamous "Curse of the Tequesta" as the Dolphins start another new era 0-2 and search for answers.
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What began as a tongue-in-cheek New Times investigation 12 years ago has become part of Miami Dolphins fan lore. With a new era underway, and already off to an ominous start, we figured it was time for a professional diagnosis.
For a brief, beautiful moment this summer, anything seemed possible. The Dolphins had a new head coach in Jeff Hafley, a new general manager in Jon-Eric Sullivan, a new starting quarterback in Malik Willis, and the youngest roster in the NFL. The Tua Tagovailoa-Mike McDaniel era was over. The roster had been gutted. The vibes were good.
Two games later, Miami is 0-2. The Dolphins opened the season with a 27-13 loss to the Las Vegas Raiders, then got thumped 35-13 by the San Francisco 49ers. Next up: Patrick Mahomes and the Kansas City Chiefs for Miami’s home opener at Hard Rock Stadium on September 27.
So perhaps this is as good a time as any to revisit an uncomfortable question New Times first asked 12 years ago: Are the Miami Dolphins cursed?
The Curse of the Tequesta
In September 2014, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek New Times investigation into whether the Dolphins were literally cursed. What began as a joke sent me down a wormhole of old newspaper archives, archaeological discoveries, and decades-old warnings about the land beneath what is now Hard Rock Stadium.
The central discovery was almost too perfect: During construction of Joe Robbie Stadium in 1985, Native American artifacts and human remains were discovered on the property. Archaeologists were called in, construction was interrupted, and concerns were raised about what had been found on land associated with Native American history.
Then came the really weird part. A 1989 Sun-Sentinel story documented bizarre calls to local sports-talk host Rick Weaver, including warnings that the stadium had been cursed and needed an exorcism. Quarterbacks? Maybe. Ownership? Worth investigating. Coaching? Lord knows.
Ancient burial grounds? When I first brought the findings to my New Times editor, he nearly called for a wellness check.
The resulting story, “Are the Dolphins Cursed? The Case for the ‘Curse of the Tequesta,'” ran on September 24, 2014. National outlets picked it up, fans repeated it, radio hosts discussed it, and the Curse of the Tequesta gradually entered Dolphins folklore.
More importantly, its premise has aged annoyingly well. When New Times published the story in 2014, the Dolphins hadn’t won a playoff game since December 30, 2000. Twelve years later, the Dolphins still haven’t won a playoff game since December 30, 2000.
So after more than a decade of joking about a curse, it was time to consult an expert.
Psychic Lilliana takes the case
Psychic Lilliana is a third-generation Miami psychic and spiritual advisor who says she has practiced professionally for more than 20 years, including working with people who believe they’re experiencing negative energy or repeating patterns they can’t explain.
Hold up. Repeating patterns? We may have found our woman. I gave Lilliana the history of the original investigation and asked her to examine it.
“I don’t believe every bad situation means someone has a curse,” Lilliana says. “There’s a difference between somebody going through a difficult period and something that feels much older and keeps repeating itself.”
What gets her attention, she says, is when success repeatedly seems within reach before something goes wrong.
“When someone repeatedly gets extremely close to what they’re trying to achieve, and then something unexpected happens that prevents it, and that same pattern keeps happening over and over, I start paying attention.” Dolphins fans may recognize the phenomenon.
After looking into the history of the property, Lilliana came back with her diagnosis. “I didn’t pick up ordinary bad luck,” she says. “What I feel is much older.”
Well, shit.
“I would consider this cursed land”
Lilliana’s assessment differs slightly from the curse New Times has spent 12 years joking about. She doesn’t believe someone necessarily cursed the Dolphins; she thinks the Dolphins moved into bad energy.
“I pick up generational energy connected to people who passed and to the land itself,” she says. “From what I’m sensing spiritually, I would consider this cursed land.”
In her reading, the franchise isn’t necessarily the intended victim. It may simply occupy a place carrying something from long before Joe Robbie arrived with plans for a football stadium.
“I feel the energy was there before them,” she says.
When Lilliana concentrated on that energy, she says two themes emerged: greed and envy. She also sensed something painfully appropriate for a franchise that has spent decades approaching success without quite reaching it.
“The simplest way I can describe what I feel is almost like an energy saying, ‘You will not prosper from this.'”
That is where this starts sounding suspiciously like someone has been watching Dolphins football. The particular cruelty of Dolphins fandom isn’t constant hopelessness. Miami periodically gives fans just enough evidence to believe the suffering is finally over, then finds some new and creative way to crush them.
“Sometimes it’s almost the opposite,” Lilliana says. “You can get incredibly close to what you want. Everything can look like it’s finally coming together. Then something seemingly small or extremely unlikely happens at exactly the wrong moment and prevents you from getting there.”
Can the Dolphins break the curse?
This summer seemed like a natural moment to ask. Hafley, Sullivan and Willis represented one of the franchise’s cleanest breaks from its recent past. Lilliana sensed that, too.
“I feel lighter energy around the new chapter than I do when I look backward,” she says. “There is an energy of change around the organization and people genuinely wanting to create something different.”
She cautioned, however, that the old energy hadn’t necessarily disappeared.
“I feel the Dolphins have an opportunity for a fresh start,” she says. “I just wouldn’t say the old energy has completely broken yet.”
Two losses later, point taken.
So what would she do if the Dolphins actually asked for help? Lilliana says she wouldn’t simply burn some sage at midfield and call it a day. She would begin with the land itself, investigating its spiritual history, acknowledging the people connected to it, and attempting to clear whatever she believes remains attached to the property. Then she would work with the people who spend their time there and establish what she describes as spiritual protection around them and the stadium.
“For something that feels this old, I would approach it in stages rather than treating it like one simple ceremony,” she says.
There is, unfortunately, another problem: Dolphins fans. Lilliana believes decades of expecting catastrophe may contribute its own negative energy. Tens of thousands of people walking into the same building absolutely certain that a 14-point fourth-quarter lead isn’t enough apparently isn’t ideal spiritual hygiene.
“I would tell Dolphins fans to stop feeding the belief that failure is inevitable,” she says.
This may prove more difficult than cleansing the burial ground. Twelve years ago, I went looking for a funny explanation for why the Dolphins couldn’t get out of their own way and accidentally uncovered a forgotten story that became part of the team’s mythology. Since then, we’ve blamed the curse, mocked the curse and watched the Dolphins repeatedly produce new exhibits for the prosecution.
Now, two games into yet another new era, Miami is 0-2 and still searching for its first playoff victory since 2000. Lilliana believes the curse can be broken. The Dolphins might want to get her on the phone before the Chiefs arrive.