Ethics of a Thief (27 page)

The times his family was home together, she busied herself on the phone with various acquaintances. She showed little interest in Karen or him and seemed to go through the motions of motherhood without pleasure.

Although his dad was a good provider as an insurance executive, he bragged about cheating on his income taxes and refused to give to charities. The man would never be accused of trying to live his life through his kids. He was too busy living his own life with sports and social events.

Sometimes, Matt felt as if he and his sister were an inconvenience their parents had to endure for eighteen years. So, to cope, Matt learned to self-parent, but failed miserably, while Karen found nurturing from her teachers, and the parents of her friends.

Though his dad made his living in the insurance industry, he said, “People who spend money on insurance are stupid; they rarely reap the benefit.” So, in some sick way, Matt thought his dad might approve of his scheme to scam insurance companies. It was ironic, his dad made his living in the insurance industry, while he stole money through insurance fraud. In some warped way, Matt thought he was doing society a service by equalizing things. At least, that’s what he told himself to justify his actions.

His Aunt Francis was loving and nurturing and seemed to care about Karen and him. It was she who gave him his Bible. When she was upset with his parents, she would say, “Your parents are nice people on their way to hell.” Or, if she was feeling more congenial, she would say, “They’re going to spend eternity separated from God.”

But, Matt found it difficult to believe that good people like his parents would go to hell, when a thief like he could go to heaven just by believing Jesus died for him. That just didn’t make sense -- it was too simple.

“I think I have too many questions and too little faith.” The regret he felt earlier was quickly becoming despair. It had been three days of him being barricaded at home with sorrow as his only companion.

While looking for his Bible, he recalled that his dad often said, “Religion is for the weak or those in need of a crutch.” But, at that moment, Matt felt pathetically weak and desperately in need of that crutch. So, he frantically searched for the book and found it in his nightstand.
What a surprise,
he mocked himself.

After reading awhile, he put it down and later read a little more, then put it down once again. Suddenly, he took a closer look at his aunt’s handwritten note. “To Matthew, from Aunt Francis, read John 3:16.”

It took a while, but he found the book of John, then chapter 3 and verse 16. “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but will have everlasting life.”

While pondering why she wanted him to read it, he sat in silence, asking himself,
How does that apply to my situation?
He quickly grabbed a pen and pad of paper and tried to crack the code.

First: God so loved the world -- I live in the world. So God loves me.

Second: He gave His only begotten Son -- God gave me Jesus.

Third: That whosoever believes in Him -- If I believe in Jesus...

Fourth: Shall not perish -- Does that mean I’ll live on?

Fifth: But will have everlasting life: I guess that means someday I’ll go to heaven and live there forever.

“I need to figure out how that can be helpful right now.” He stared at his notes.

He jumped to his feet, yelling, “Eternity! It starts now. Not when I die. I have life now!” As he fell on his knees, his tears welled up, “I want to believe. Help me. I need forgiveness. I know I screwed up my life. I’m done trying to do things on my own, it doesn’t work.” While weeping, he asked, “What should I do with my life?”

Instantly, as if someone opened the window on a rainy day and the sun shined brightly, peace came over him and he felt instantly clean inside. His mind was unmistakably lucid. He grabbed the phone directory and searched for the District Attorney’s office. After speaking to a secretary, he made an appointment for the next day.

Within minutes of hanging up, his phone rang. It was Abigail’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“I never felt better in my life, why?”

“You’ve been on my mind for days. I’ve been praying for you.” “Actually, something did happen. I decided to turn myself in. I have an appointment with the District Attorney tomorrow.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“Yes. I have. But, they’re tears of relief and joy because, for the first time in years, I can see things clearly.”

When Abigail arrived at her home, she was concerned because her sister’s condition hadn’t changed. She was hoping for some good news. As she opened the drapes, the sunlight was bright and brought warmth. When she listened to her messages, one was from Matt. But she decided to fix tea before dialing his number. When he answered, she said, “Hi. It’s me. How did things go?”

“I’m glad it’s you, I called earlier, but I guess you know since you’re returning mine,” he said, with a light chuckle.

“Did you see the District Attorney?”

“Nope, I changed my mind.”

“Oh,” she said, as her heart sank and her future dissipated. “But why?” she said with a punch.

“Because this morning, my dear, I discovered something new regarding the murders.”

“What! I thought Forelli … wasn’t he awaiting trial?”

“Yes. He still is, but he might be innocent.”

“Who’s the new suspect? Why didn’t anyone tell us? How did you find out?”

“By listening to the morning news,” he said, while still grinning. “The news reporter said the FBI found an Iraqi hiding on the yacht. His spokesman said he was trying to recover a stolen artifact that dated back to early A.D. It belonged to a Samarian Village.”

“I can’t believe this. The man was found on the yacht! Where was he hiding? We searched everywhere.”

“They didn’t report that, but if he’s telling the truth, we were searching for the same artifact.”

Her thoughts raced, as she sat. She was stunned by the new revelation. Suddenly she remembered, “The guy might be telling the truth. Guess what? Larry and Sandra had just returned from the Middle East!”

“Wow. That’s an interesting thought.”

“Where do you think he was hiding?” she asked.

“My guess is in the Master Suite.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only cabin we didn’t search.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” She said while walking to the kitchen, holding the phone to her ear. “He has to be the murderer. Did the FBI find the vase?” She switched the phone to her other ear, while pouring water.

“No. But I did.”

Abigail stopped in her tracks and put down the pot. “What! You found it -- when?”

“Late morning, right after I heard the news report. I figured the historical artifact must be in the Kilgore’s house, since it wasn’t on the yacht.”

While trying to digest what he was saying, she was silent,
don’t get too excited about your future.
After taking a deep breath, she said, “So, you broke into their home?”

“Yes. Matter of fact, I did. At first, I searched to see if it was lying out conspicuously, like the Faberge’ Egg, but it wasn’t. After probing around, I decided to search where they stored their vases. I found the relic hidden in a box way behind the others. I didn’t even want to touch it, the thing looked so fragile.”

“How can you be sure it’s what the Iraqi searched for?”

“It was obvious. If it’s dated back to Christ, a vase or pot could easily be what they were searching for. It also looks like one-of-a-kind, it’s so fragile.”

At this point, Abigail was confused. She wasn’t sure if she should be pleased or angry. “Do you realize what you’re saying? During our last phone conversation, you were going to turn yourself in, but, instead, you broke into their home? That doesn’t make sense. Why would you risk getting into more trouble?”

“Because, it was my first glimpse of God’s grace.”

“What do you mean?”

“Right before I was going to turn myself in, I switched the TV channel to the news. That’s when I heard about the Iraqi and the priceless vase. So, perhaps God wanted me to use it as a bargaining tool.”

“But how?” she said while carefully sitting so not to spill her tea.

“By going to the FBI and asking for a deal.”

Silently, she was thanking God. “Did you call them yet?”

“My appointment is at three-thirty.”

“Today?”

“Yep.”

“Good for you, Matt. Do you think they’ll go for it?”

“That I don’t know, it may not be their call.”

“Then who?”

“If they can’t make a deal, it might be up to the U.S. Attorney’s Office. But, I’m hoping that the FBI will at least get the ball rolling.”

“Where’s the vase now?”

“Someplace safe, don’t worry. No one will ever find it without my help.”

*

When Matt arrived to the FBI Headquarters, he asked for Special Agent Ned Parker. A dark-haired woman behind the reception desk said, “I’m sorry, but something came up. It might be a while.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Can I get something for you?” Her cheerful voice matched her smile. “We have coffee, tea and water.”

“No, thanks.” He turned and walked into the waiting area and sat. After a while, he checked his watch, thirty minutes had passed. Within another ten minutes or so, Special Agent Parker came to greet him. “Sorry to keep you waiting, an emergency came up.”

“No problem.”

“Please come with me.”

He followed Parker into a conference room. The man seemed preoccupied. When they entered, there was a round table with chairs. Parker held out his arm indicating to sit. After getting comfortable, he asked, “What can I do for you?”

Because Matt observed that he wasn’t fully present, he waited until he thought he was paying attention. “What I have to say needs to be off the record. Is that possible?”

After surveying Matt for a minute, he said, “Sure, as long as no one’s in imminent danger.”

“No. It’s nothing like that.”

After explaining the news regarding the Iraqi being found on the yacht, he asked, “Is closing the murder investigation important to you?”

Parker didn’t answer.

“Do you have any interest in finding the two-thousand-year-old vase?”

Suddenly, there was alertness in Parker’s eyes, as he sat upright.

“What if I can produce the vase -- would that help your investigation?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going here.”

Matt leaned forward. “I would like to propose an exchange, the return of the relic for my immunity. Are you in a position to do that?”

As Parker sat back in his chair, he said, “Immunity for what?”

“For my many past crimes that were never closed.”

“What crimes are we talking about?”

After explaining in detail about his part in various fraudulent insurance claims, Matt stated that he never used weapons, never harmed anyone and had never been investigated or suspected of any of the crimes. “In short, I have a clean record, you can check it out.”

“Then, why turn yourself in if the authorities aren’t looking for you?”

“Because I want to turn my life around, but can’t -- not with my past haunting me.”

As Parker swayed in his chair, he carefully surveyed Matt. “Okay. First, convince me you and your cohorts are innocent of those murders.”

Matt leaned forward. “For starters, I know the Kilgores were involved in smuggling stolen goods, and that they had just returned from the Middle East. So, what the Iraqi said adds up.”

“Go on.”

While watching his face, Matt said, “Did you find the Iraqi hiding in the Master Suite by any chance?”

No response.

“Look at your notes. Miss Wilson and the children searched for the Kilgore’s. They went to their Master Suite and knocked on the hatch several times. And that was before we arrived. Do you think the reason they didn’t respond might be because the couple was already dead?”

“Go on,” Parker’s eyes darted as he grabbed a pen and wrote on a yellow pad. He glanced up, while squirming in his chair. “What do you want from me, Mr. Willingham?”

“I want for you to arrange immunity for me and my men with the appropriate authorities. When that is done, I’ll hand over the priceless relic.”

“I’ll give it some thought and consult with my associates.”

“I’m convinced that the Iraqi murdered those people. The vase will validate his motive to kill. By the way, I bet he isn’t denying he did it.”

Special Agent Parker was silent with his eyes looking down and his forehead revealed deep lines.

“It’s my guess that if you, an FBI agent, solved a double murder case and recovered a priceless artifact, it would enhance your career. Am I wrong here? Wouldn’t that be a plus for you with International Affairs? We already know that it’s an embarrassment for our country. The Iraqi’s spokesman accused our military personnel of taking it when we invaded them after 9/11.”

“Yes, go on.”

“My theory is that the Kilgores refused to return it to the man, so he became angry and killed them.”

“But, you have not finished connecting the dots. Where’s the vase?”

“What if someone had it, would it be worth immunity for its return?” he said with piercing eyes and leaning forward.

Parker sat erect. “Where is it? Or do you even know?”

“Yes. I have access to it and can bring it to you.”

“I don’t get it. Why is immunity so important?”

“Someday I might marry. I don’t want to be sitting at home with my family and be arrested for a crime I committed years earlier. Now do you get it?”

Silently, Parker stood and then paced with his hands behind his back. When he stopped he glared at Matt.

“I want the same deal for my associates, and I promise you, none of them have priors and they all have good careers. They only helped me as a favor. Those men trust me. So, everything I request must apply to them. Is that agreeable?”

“I hear you.”

“Just think of how many unsolved cases you will close, including a double-murder, and help our country politically at the same time.”