Fugitive; No Priors

On trust and hiding your assets from yourself.

I conjure the world in the way I want it to be. It frequently works out. I like being an optimist. Likely inherited from my genetically gifted mother.

Optimism conveys a light and sweet energy. Most of the time I believe people to lead with basic decency. Unless you’re a known criminal or named politician.

I trust.

“Trust but verify,” Ronald Reagan cautioned the Soviets when Putin was still wearing short pants.

Can we agree to stop confusing skepticism with intelligence?

The majority of people are essentially good, even though statistics demonstrate otherwise.

Last Friday, I received a phone call from a familiar area code. The official sounding voice identified himself as Lt. Jon Shelton. Write this down, he said “it’s J-O-N.”

He began his pitch and told me to check my text messages. He’d sent what looked like a registered letter with my name and address on it and someone else’s signature. That’s not my signature, I said. He then proceeded to tell me that a lot of times postal workers will sign for a resident because they don’t get paid overtime for delivering a package twice. Ok, that’s believable.

I have no priors. The only time I’ve been inside prison walls was teaching yoga to the inmates at a minimum security facility in Bedford, NY. The worst you can accuse me of is spitting in my ex-husband’s coffee (and that only happened once).

I’m what’s referred to as an easy mark; this particular felon had my name, telephone number, address, and coffee order. I keep trusting the conveniences that are, without my consent, informants. What the criminals don’t know, but will soon learn, is that I rarely carry cash. I keep most of my money in a savings account that I hide even from myself. Inventing new passwords anytime I try to log in.

Many moons ago, when I was a young dancer, I was on the E train in NYC going to an audition. I was mugged at knifepoint on an otherwise beautiful Saturday afternoon. Holding a knife to my side and demanding my money, the mugger scanned the train uneasily. Nobody came to my aid. No heroes in that car. Rifling through my dance bag I came up with about $3 in bills and some loose change. I raised a finger and motioned for the robber to hang on a sec because I thought I might have more in the bottom of my bag.

No such luck.

Only damp smelly ballet slippers, a leotard, and tiger print leg warmers that my mom had knitted. He exited the train at the next stop and I was shaken and maybe in shock, but on time to the studio. Adrenaline fueled my dancing and I nailed the audition.

Common sense ought to dictate reason at this point. You can’t be arrested and incarcerated for failure to report for jury duty. Can you?

I would like to do my civic duty and sit on a jury, as I discussed at length with Lt. Jon Shelton of Washington DC. And when the officer told me it was a great case that I missed, I told him that I have to hang up now to go volunteer. You have no priors, he said, so if you get pulled over you would likely not be arrested; however, you will be called back within 2 hours, and if I didn’t answer I’ll be reported to the local sheriffs department in Colorado. They’ve been building a lot of new incarceration centers, he told me, and you would hate to be the one to help fill one up. For a few minutes I actually believed I might be arrested — that’s how good he was, and that’s how easily the script works. I told him I’m not allowed to have my phone in my volunteer job.

They didn’t get far enough to get any real information, mostly because they didn’t know who they were dealing with. As a people pleaser with no prior record, I began to spin off that my father was a well respected litigator in DC who, in addition to arguing cases and being a civil rights activist, authored the U.S. patterned jury instructions. He taught all of his daughters about judicial fairness and our responsibility to serve on a case.

For the most part I can’t comprehend how anybody who is as skillful as a con artist can’t get a well paying job in advertising or marketing. Admittedly one vocation takes more schooling, but if you are that good a liar, can’t you tailor your résumé?

Con artists use scare tactics to cause otherwise intelligent people to respond emotionally. Using fear and leveling a dose of shame that stirs up unreliable memories.

I still believe most people are essentially good, and that life experience and opportunity have shaped their choices. I wonder if a talented teacher or mentor early on might have awakened something dormant, and an entirely different life would have unfolded.

As for me, I will not consider abandoning myself to overt or covert cynicism; but for good measure I’ll continue to hide my passwords and certain assets from myself.