Lady Justice and Good vs Evil

by Robert Thornhill

  “Uhhh, no. I think that will do for now. You’ve given me the information I need to proceed with my investigation.”

  “Splendid! We hope to hear from you soon.”

  After they were gone, I sat quietly, trying to digest everything I had learned. On the surface, his program sounded convincing, but I still had reservations.

  My dilemma was that the device that could make all those plans a reality was sitting in my safe and it was my decision whether or not it should go forward.

  That was a responsibility I didn’t want to bear, but there it was.

  I decided I needed more enlightenment before I made a decision.

  CHAPTER 5

  The thing that troubled me most was the reprogramming.

  For me, a committee assembled to decide what was right and what was wrong was problematic. In my experience, most committees can’t even decide what food to serve at a banquet. I couldn’t imagine any group of people agreeing on how to recreate a whole new person.

  Also troubling were Skinner’s remarks about how God wasn’t doing a very good job. There would certainly be moral outrage from conservative, right-wing traditionalists who would say that man had no right to meddle with what God had created.

  I figured that before I made any decisions, I would pay a visit to Pastor Bob.

  I have to admit that I’m not a regular church-goer. Actually, I’m not even an irregular attendee. I’m just not a fan of organized religion. The doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in a Higher Power. Everything in my experience tells me that there is something greater than me operating in the universe.

  Nevertheless, there have been times when I’ve needed spiritual guidance and when those times come, I turn to Pastor Bob. He’s definitely not a traditional cleric. There’s no pomp and circumstance in his message. His ministry is to help his followers make the right decisions in their lives. Plus, he has a marvelous sense of humor. The message on the signboard outside his church bears John Wesley’s quote, “Sour godliness is the devil’s religion.”

  I gave Pastor Bob a call.

  “Heavenly hotline. For a mere thirty pieces of silver, I’ll forward your request to the Almighty.”

  “You’ve used that one before. You need to get new material.”

  “Good afternoon, Walt. May I assume you’re calling because you are impaled on the horns of some moral dilemma?”

  “You know me so well. I’d like to stop by your office if you’re available.”

  “For you, of course.”

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  The door to Pastor Bob’s church is always open. I entered and made my way to his office.

  He took my hand. “Have a seat and let’s get to the heart of what’s troubling you today.”

  I took a deep breath. “If God is real and He created us, why are so many people screwed up?”

  He gave me a big smile. “Well, I have to hand it to you. You’ve asked one of the greatest theological questions of all time.”

  “So what’s the answer?”

  “That depends on whether you believe in free will or determinism.”

  “Isn’t determinism like when something happens, either good or bad, and someone says that it’s God’s will?”

  “That’s one definition.”

  “Let’s say a brilliant young student gets in the car and is t-boned on his way to the library by a drunk driver. Would a determinist say that the event was preordained and nothing could have prevented it because it was God’s will and part of his master plan?”

  “That’s certainly possible.”

  “Do you buy that?”

  “Personally, I do not. I’m more of a free will guy. I believe God created us with the ability to make choices and the intellect to know which choices are the right ones. That doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone makes the right choices all the time. Quite the contrary, we all make bad choices. Some more than others.”

  “Then do you also believe that when bad choices are made, it is inevitable that similar bad choices will be made in the future?”

  “Not necessarily. Some people learn from their mistakes and make better choices the second time around. Others seem to keep making the same mistakes over and over again.”

  “Let’s talk about the ones who keep making bad choices. Why do you suppose they never change?”

  “I suppose because once a person does the same thing over and over and never learns a more appropriate response, it becomes ingrained.”

  “Kind of like Pavlov’s dogs?”

  “Yes, something like that. I’m curious. What’s this all about?”

  “Let me ask you another question. I’m sure, during the course of your ministry, you’ve encountered some very desperate people whose lives were in shambles.”

  “Unfortunately, I have.”

  “What if you had the ability to take away all the reasons they made the bad decisions that destroyed their life? Would you do it?”

  “First of all, nobody has that ability.”

  Not yet, I thought, but maybe in the future with the NESD.

  “Second, it wouldn’t be my place to make that kind of decision for another person.”

  “Let’s say you did have that ability and the person came to you saying that’s exactly what they wanted you to do?”

  He thought for a moment. “That might change things. He’s making the decision with his own free will.”

  “Let’s say you could wipe the slate clean and reprogram that individual. What kind of values would you give him?”

  “Good Lord, Walt. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

  “I can’t tell you just yet, but your answers are very important to me. Let’s get back to the value system. Do you think you could come up with a set of values that would turn his life around?”

  I could see the wheels turning. “I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Being a Christian minister, would you necessarily have to include those beliefs in your new program? What if the person that came to you was a Jew or a Buddhist?”

  “If the question you’re asking is whether it would be necessary to program a religion for the person to live a good and productive life, the answer is no. Organized religion doesn’t have an exclusive on good behavior. I’m sure you remember me saying that sitting in church doesn’t make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car. Not all Christians are good, and not all good people are Christians.

  “Take you, for example. I can count the number of times you have attended services here on one hand and still have three fingers left over, and yet, I consider you to be a good person with great moral values.”

  “Thank you for that. I just hope you’re right.”

  “Walt, I sense you are facing some important decision that has some far-reaching moral implications. Am I right?”

  I nodded. “I am. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t right now. All I can say is that your counsel has been a big help to me.”

  I saw the look of concern on his face. “Please come by again if you need to talk. You know that anything we discuss here is totally confidential.”

  “I know that and I appreciate your friendship. Thank you.”

  On the way home, I thought about how Pastor Bob’s responses to my questions impacted my decision to hand over the device in my safe.

  The feeling I was coming away with was positive. There were certainly no red flags waving, saying that this whole thing was a bad idea.

  When I pulled up in front of my building, I spotted my dad and Bernice, his sweetie-pie, who occupy the two second floor apartments in my building, talking with Irma Scruggs, an elderly neighbor who lives a few doors down the street. They were looking at a document and seemed to be very upset.

  Dad spotted me first. “Walt, I’m so glad you’re home. You have to see this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a collection notice,” Dad replied, shoving the document in my hands.
“Irma got hooked up with one of those payday loan scams and now they’re bleeding her dry.”

  Poor Irma was about to burst into tears.

  “Let’s all go upstairs and see if we can sort this out.”

  Once we were all seated in the living room, I turned to Irma. “Let’s start at the beginning. How did you get mixed up with this company?”

  She wiped a tear from her eye. “A few months ago, Ralph’s doctor prescribed a new medication for his heart. It was pretty expensive and the middle of the month. We couldn’t afford it until our Social Security checks arrived at the end of the month. Ralph needed the medicine right away, so I contacted Jiffy Loans and borrowed $300.00. I planned to pay it off as soon as our checks came.

  “Wouldn’t you know it, our old fridge quit working and we had to call a repairman. I didn’t have the whole $300.00, but I sent them $50.00 and told them I’d pay the rest the next month. Unexpected expenses kept popping up, but I sent them $50.00 each month.

  “Then, all of a sudden, I get a bill from them saying I owe $750.00! If I couldn’t pay the $300.00, I sure couldn’t pay $750.00! The next thing I knew they were taking us to court. Is there anything we can do?”

  I had heard about these unscrupulous loan companies that charge exorbitant rates but this was the first time I’d met someone who had been sucked in.

  “Did you sign a contract?”

  Irma nodded and handed me a document from her purse. “I brought it in case you wanted to see it.”

  The print was so small you’d need a magnifying glass to read it, and there was a lot of it.

  “This is all gibberish to me. What I’d like to do is take these documents to a lawyer friend of mine and see what she has to say. Maybe she can get you out of this.”

  “Oh thank you so much,” Irma gushed. “Please don’t say anything to Ralph about this mess. His health has been so poor lately. I don’t want to worry him.”

  “I understand,” I replied. “Let me see what I can do.”

  As soon as the three of them left, I called Suzanne Romero. She is, in my opinion, the best defense attorney in Kansas City. She has helped me several times, and I have helped her with a number of her clients, so we have a history that usually gets me right in the door.

  Today was no exception. She said she had some time so I headed to her office.

  “Good afternoon, Walt. Who’s in trouble today?”

  “A neighbor of mine, Irma Krug.”

  I shared Irma’s story and handed her the two documents.

  She studied them both for a few minutes then handed them back.

  “I sincerely wish I could help your friend but there’s nothing I can do. This contract is unconscionable, but unfortunately, it’s legal. How old is your friend?”

  “She’s seventy-eight.”

  “She probably didn’t even read it, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have understood what she was getting into.”

  “I tried to read it and it was Greek to me. What does it say, exactly?”

  “It’s all in the fine print. The most obvious problem with payday loans is the cost. I’ll give you an example of a borrower who pays $75 in interest for a $500 loan. If that was the cost of interest for a full year, the interest rate would be 15 percent. That would be a decent rate for someone who has either bad credit or no credit, and is taking an unsecured loan. But the $75 is the interest charged for just two weeks. If you annualize the interest charged for two weeks, it comes to nearly 300 percent. In fact, 300 percent is on the low end. Payday lenders often charge 400 percent, 500 percent, or even much more. What makes it even more concerning is the fact that it is the interest rate being charged to the people who can least afford it. If a person doesn’t have $500 today, they probably won’t be any more likely to have $575 in two weeks. But that’s what they’ll have to come up with.

  “The problem is that the borrower, like your friend, Mrs. Krug, usually needs to take another payday loan to pay off the first one. The whole reason for taking the first payday loan was that they didn’t have the money for an emergency need. Since regular earnings will be consumed by regular expenses, they won’t be any better off in two weeks. The lender might provide continuous financing by rolling over the loan every two weeks. The borrower will have to pay the interest every two weeks, but the original loan balance will remain outstanding. Because the borrower will have to pay $75 every two weeks, he’ll end up paying $1,950 in interest in order to gain the one-time benefit of the $500 loan. This is another reason why payday loans rarely exceed $1,000. The payday lenders are keenly aware that the likelihood of being repaid declines with the size of the loan. And should you be unable to make good on your payday loan, lenders are among the most savage when it comes to collecting. You will not only be hounded by collection calls and threats, but you will certainly be slapped with a court judgement. I’m sorry. I wish I could help.”

  “What happens if they lose in court?”

  “The lender can attach their bank account, and the first thing paid out is the lender’s court-ordered fee.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Ralph has a small pension and they have Social Security. I know they can’t touch the Social Security, but if they take the pension funds, that will ruin them financially, and neither of them are in good health. It will be devastating.”

  “Again, I’m so sorry.”

  I drove home seething mad. True, Irma had signed a contract that was legally binding, but she had no idea what she was getting into and I was quite sure the lender was counting on that.

  I tried to figure a way to break the bad news, but there was no easy way. I just wasn’t willing to give the sweet old lady the news that would make her world come crashing down around her. I couldn’t give up just yet.

  As soon as I arrived home, I called my partner, Kevin.

  “Are you up for some skullduggery?”

  I could picture him grinning. “Does the pope wear a funny hat?”

  He was in my office in twenty minutes.

  “So who are we going after?”

  I told him the Krug’s sad story and what I had learned at Suzanne Romero’s office.

  “Unbelievable!” he said, shaking his head. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I figure anybody who is ruthless enough to run a scam like this isn’t exactly a Boy Scout. If we can dig up some dirt on the guy, I wouldn’t be opposed to some discreet blackmail.”

  “Now you’re talking. Who is this schmuck?”

  “I don’t know yet. All I know is the name of the loan company, Jiffy Loans. There was a signature on Irma’s contract, but it was unreadable. You’re the tech wizard. I was hoping you could figure it out.”

  “Fire up the old Toshiba. I’ll give it a try.”

  I booted up my laptop and Kevin started banging keys.

  “Got it!” he said. “The owner’s name is Morey Schwartz.”

  “How about an address?”

  “Give me a minute. There it is. Sunset Drive in Sunset Hills just south of the Plaza.”

  “Pretty fancy digs. I guess you can afford it when you charge 400% interest.”

  “How about a photo?”

  “Here you go.”

  “Jesus! What a slime ball! It shouldn’t be hard to dig up some dirt on him.”

  “How do you want to proceed?”

  “I say we follow the guy. See where he goes and what he does. He’s going to do something stupid and we need to be there when it happens.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Kevin replied, “but it sounds like a 24/7 job. We should split up. I’ll take the first shift.”

  At ten o’clock that evening, Kevin called.

  “I sat outside Jiffy Loans until Schwartz left at five o’clock. He went straight home, then a little before seven the whole family came out. Looks like he has a wife and two kids around eight and ten. I followed them to their school. There was some kind of program going on. After the program they went straight home. It looks like they’re tuck
ed in for the night.”

  “Great, I’ll be there to follow him to work in the morning. Get some rest.”

  At seven in the morning Schwartz left his house. He stopped at a Starbucks on his way to the office. I found a spot in a convenience store parking lot where I had a clear view of his building.

  Surveillance work is both mind-numbing and butt-numbing, but in cases like this, absolutely necessary. I had my thermos of coffee and a bag of trail mix. I would have preferred donuts, but Maggie wouldn’t hear of it. I settled in for what I expected to be a long, boring day.

  At noon, Schwartz came out of his building, looked up and down the street, and headed for his car. I figured he’d be going to some greasy spoon for lunch.

  Surprisingly, he got on I-49 and headed for the little burg of Grandview just south of Kansas City. He pulled off the Interstate and into the lot of a Motel 6.

  I was elated. It looked like old Morey was about to have himself some afternoon delight, and I was going to catch him in the act.

  He didn’t bother to stop at the registration desk, so I figured someone must already be there awaiting his arrival.

  I grabbed my camera and followed Schwartz at a discreet distance. I had the camera ready when he stopped in front of a door and gently tapped. I snapped my first photo just as a slinky blonde grabbed Morey by the tie and pulled him inside.

  That was a good start, but I needed more. Morey had to be convinced we had him by the short hairs for our plan to succeed.

  Thankfully, their unit was on the first floor. I crept around to the back of the motel and located their room. The blinds were parted just enough for me to get a glimpse inside. In the next ten minutes, I got all the shots I needed to confront Mr. Sleazebag.

  I was just congratulating myself on my super sleuthing when I heard someone yell, “PEEPER! WE’VE GOT A PEEPER!”

  Suddenly, I realized the guy was talking about me!

  I’m pretty fleet of foot for an old guy. I took off running and had just reached my car when several angry patrons came charging into the parking lot. I peeled away, scattering trail mix all over the front seat. I just hoped that no one got my license plate.