I'm a new millionaire --- Part 2

I guess I should follow-up on my September 30 blog about the scam that a person with no moral fiber tried to pull on me. I got to thinking about this unscrupulous criminal that doesn’t have the backbone to get a real job or do honest work. Instead, this Nigerian crook sits in a rat hole somewhere and uses his talents to call elderly people around the United States to cheat them out of their savings, pensions, or social security. He has figured out that people are hurting, and they’re looking for easy escapes, so they make themselves vulnerable to scam artists. He smiles his wicked smile and laughs his wicked laugh while he brings tears to elderly Americans, possibly your mother or grandmother.

I really hate being taken advantage of or being treated like a fool. So I decided to do the only thing I could do and keep a clear conscious. Since I had the name of a person and an address in Bessemer, Alabama where the requested fraudulent funds were supposed to be sent, I decided it was my civic duty to report this illegal activity to the police.

Now you’d think that since a river of dirty money was pouring through Bessemer, Alabama, that a criminal activity reported to the Bessemer police department would garner a certain amount of concern and attention. So I called the Bessemer police department within an hour of hanging up from Mr. Robertson (see my September 30 blog for details about Mr. Robertson) and spoke to the officer on duty, explaining the events of my day. Her response was that since I live in Mounds, Oklahoma, the jurisdiction for this crime wasn’t in Bessemer, Alabama, but instead was the jurisdiction of the Mounds, Oklahoma police department. My response to her was the question, “Doesn’t it make more sense to have the police in the town where the crime is taking place to investigate instead of relying on a police department in a town with 3 cops, 120 people, 2 cows and one three-legged dog?” This didn’t move her either.

Well, I knew this person didn’t know what she was talking about. I figured she was high on donut sugar or pastry filling, so I decided to wait and call back the next day. I guess I lost track of time and forgot that it was Saturday, and I forgot that crime stops below the Mason-Dixon Line because there are no detectives on duty on the weekend. However, I did call early enough Saturday to speak to a very nice desk sergeant that hadn’t had time to overdose on Krispy Kreme yet. Although she wouldn’t take my report, she did refer me to the Bessemer police department detective division and gave me the name of the detective that handles these sorts of things. Oh joy, I was making progress! So I called the detective division, but being Saturday, I could only leave my name and phone number, briefly outline the fraudulent activity, and hope for a call from down south so justice could prevail.

Monday arrived and I was home all day working in my office. I figured I’d get that phone call so we could start the ball rolling to stop at least a little piece of this fraudulent activity. But the call didn’t come Monday, regardless how diligently I waited by the phone. And it didn’t come Tuesday either. So I decided that perhaps since the Bessemer detective department didn’t work on the weekend, perhaps their answering service didn’t either. So I called again and left my name and number, along with the details of the crime, then sat back and waited for my phone to ring. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch.

When I hadn’t heard from the Bessemer police department by Wednesday, I began to wonder if Bessemer, Alabama actually existed. When I can get the squirrel in my magneto cage to run fast enough, it generates enough electricity to power my computer so I can access a miracle of technology called the internet where I can look up information all over the world. It’s truly an amazing tool but I’m not sure it will ever catch on.

Anyway, I managed to look up Bessemer, Alabama and discovered they have a city government and everything, so I sent an email to their mayor.

Mr. Mayor,

I've contacted your police department several times since this past Friday to report a case of interstate wire fraud being operated out of your city. I spoke to one of your receptionists at the police department on Friday and gave her the details of the wire fraud headquartered in your city, but she didn't seem overly interested. I called back on Saturday and spoke to a very nice lady that gave me the phone number to your detective division and referred me to Sgt _____. I've called his number several times, but it is picked up by another officer's voice mail whose name I can't recall at the moment. However, no matter how often I leave my name and contact phone number, no one from your police department has returned my calls.

I guess my question is, are you and your police department interested in crime taking place in your city?

If you'd like to read a tongue-in-cheek article I wrote about the crime taking place in your city, please read it at jimlaughter.blogspot.com. I can also tell you that this exact same fraud was perpetrated on a friend of mine at almost the same time it happened to me. The details in my blog are correct, complete with name and address of the criminal operating not far from your police department.

So Mr. Mayor, the ball is in your court now. Let's see if you can run with it.

--
Jim Laughter

Well, needless to say, when I got home Wednesday, I had a message on my answering machine from the Bessemer police department, and on Thursday (today) I received a personal phone call from the detective I’d been trying to contact. He listened to my story then told me that this was a clear case of wire fraud. He told me that he had indeed looked into my complaint, and that the address where I was supposed to send the fraudulent money existed, and that a little old lady actually lived there. Oh boy, progress! Then he dropped the second shoe and told me that since this was a federal crime, it was out of his jurisdiction and I would have to file a report with the United States Secret Service. And since I had received the phone call in my home in Mounds, Oklahoma, I would have to report the crime to the Secret Service office in Tulsa. That way they could get the paperwork started, and they would notify their office in Birmingham, Alabama, who would in turn contact the Bessemer police department, so they could drive down the street to see if Mary Robinson was indeed receiving fraudulently wired money.

So today (Thursday – six days after the fraudulent phone call and my first attempt to report it) I called the United States Secret Service office in Tulsa to file my report and spoke to a receptionist that I’m fairly sure was a blood relative of the first receptionist I’d spoken to in Bessemer. Every time I tried to file my report, she would spin off on a tangent and try to explain to me the ins and outs of the interstate law. She wasn’t an agent herself and she refused to connect me to an agent. When the dust settled, she told me that I would have to contact the Secret Service office in Birmingham, Alabama to file my complaint so they could contact the Bessemer police department to start an official investigation. She gave me the number I needed and told me to ask for the duty agent.

Boy, these long distance phone calls started to get annoying. But being the good citizen that I am, I called the Birmingham office of the United States Secret Service and asked the receptionist to let me speak to the duty agent. She put me right through to his voice mail where I again left my name, phone number, and a detailed message. It only took another hour for an agent from Birmingham to call. I don’t remember his name, but by the tenor of his voice, I’m pretty sure he was at least 20, maybe 25 years old with at least 30 years of investigative experience. But he was a nice kid, and he informed me that he had indeed contacted the Bessemer police department and they would launch an official investigation into my reported case of wire fraud. He didn’t seem to think that anything would come of it, and he wasn’t sure if they’d be able to prosecute anyone even if they were able to justify an arrest.

Well, that’s my follow-up report. I just want you to know that if you receive a phone call from Mr. Robertson like I did telling you that you’ve won 2.5 million dollars and a new Mercedes Benz from the Publishers Clearing House sweepstake, and all you have to do is wire $299 to an address in Bessemer, Alabama, I have already taken care filing the report. So enjoy your money and new car. I’ve already done the dirty work.

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I'd love for you to visit my website www.jimlaughter.com to catch up on all of the good stuff going on in my camp, particularly the release of my latest two new books. My murder suspense, The Apostle Murders, released July 15th. It is a fast-moving modern-day suspense based on the martyrdom of the original apostle of Jesus Christ. And releasing October 1st was my new children's book, Strangers in the Stable. This full-color illustrated book a look at the nativity on the night of Christ's birth, and is seen from the viewpoint of the animals in the stable.

So visit my website and place your orders. With exception to Strangers in the Stable, all of my books are available in paperback, Kindle, and Nook formats.

I'm a new millionaire

I can only assume you saw my post on Facebook announcing that I won the Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes today. Yep, it’s true. It is the dream of every American to answer his phone and hear those magic words, “Sir, you are a millionaire.”

That’s exactly what happened to me today. I was sitting at my desk around noon slugging away at a new book I’m writing when my phone rang and Mr. Robertson, a manager with the United Parcel Service called to say that a UPS truck was on route to my house with a certified check for 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz automobile, both being escorted by a U.S. Marshall to ensure both my safety and the safety of my prizes. He provided me with a UPS tracking number, 1945886201UPS, his UPS supervisor identification number, and his personal office and cell phone numbers.

Being the curious person I am, I asked Mr. Robertson how I happened to win this fabulous prize, and he told me that since I paid my utility bills on time and was never late, the power company that supplies electricity to my house automatically entered my name into the sweepstakes. Now that’s service, especially since I live in an all-expenses paid house at my church and don’t have any utility bills in my own name. Must be a miracle from the Lord, I thought. He knows I could use the money and a new car.

Oh joy, what a day! I remembered 1977 when I won the Reader’s Digest grand prize of a brand new Chevy Vega. Unfortunately, I was in the U.S. Air Force stationed in Okinawa, Japan at the time working with the top secret spy plane, the SR-71, and couldn’t leave the island to claim my prize. Alas, it went to the runner up. Just my luck. A Chevy Vega and I missed it!

But today wasn’t a Chevy Vega. It was a certified check for 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz automobile, and it was at a gas station only four miles from my house where the UPS truck was filling its tank, waiting for me to call and confirm that I had my receipt.

What receipt, you ask? My Western Union receipt, of course. Haven’t you ever won 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz?

“But I don’t have a receipt,” I said to Mr. Robertson, “and I don’t know what kind of receipt you mean.”

“Oh that’s ok, Mr. Laughter,” Mr. Robertson said. “Do you live near a Western Union?”

“Yes, I do,” I assured him. “There’s a Western Union about six miles from my house.”

Mr. Robertson assured me that all I had to do is go to the Western Union and pickup my receipt. And to attain my receipt, all I had to do was fill out a money transfer request and send $299 to cover handling charges to Mrs. Mary Robinson (which I thought was oddly similar to his name) at 643 7^th Avenue, Bessemer, Alabama 35020. Once the money was sent and she confirmed receipt, all I had to do was wait for the UPS truck to arrive with my 2.5 million dollar certified check and brand new Mercedes Benz automobile. But this $299 wasn’t a fee. Oh no, not at all. Mr. Robertson assured me that the US Marshall would reimburse my $299 when they delivered the car. Well if you can’t trust a U.S. Marshall, who can you trust?

“It’s that simple?” I asked. “All I have to do is wire $299 to Mrs. Mary Robinson in Bessemer, Alabama, and you’ll deliver 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz automobile to my home? And that truck and automobile is at a gas station only four miles from my house waiting for confirmation that I’ve sent the money?”

“Yes sir, that’s absolutely correct,” Mr. Robertson assured me. “How long do you think it will take for you to wire the money, sir?”

I didn’t hesitate. Boy, oh boy, I know a good deal when I hear one, and 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz automobile for a reimbursable $299 fee was a good deal.

“Give me an hour, Mr. Robertson,” I said. “I’m still in my pajamas, working at home, so I’ll need a few minutes to get myself together.”

“An hour, sir?” Mr. Robertson asked. “You can’t send the money any faster than that? I’d hate for you to miss this opportunity.”

“But Mr. Robertson,” I said. “If I’ve won the sweepstakes, it’s mine, and the only way I can miss it is to decline it. Isn’t that right?”

“Well, yes sir, that is correct. And if you’d like to decline your prize, just say your name three times and we’ll move on to the alternate winner.” Just say my name three times? It reminded me of the movie Beetlejuice where innocent people had to say the ghost's name three times to free him from his bondage. I'm a good citizen and didn't want to take the chance of releasing something like that on the world.

“Oh no, I certainly don’t want to do that,” I said. “Just give me an hour and I’ll call you when I have my receipt.”

This pleased Mr. Robertson very much. He was such a nice man. From the accent of his voice, it sounded like he was from Bangladesh, or maybe Madagascar. Could have been Texas. Foreign accents throw me a little. I’ve never heard of a Bangladeshi named Robertson, but who can tell with all of the job out-sourcing in the American marketplace nowadays?

I only had one more question for Mr. Robertson. “Mr. Robertson, what if the UPS truck and the U.S. Marshall can’t find my house? What should I do then?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Mr. Laughter,” he answered. “Then all you’d have to do is go back to the Western Union office and they’ll refund your $299. No questions asked."

Wow, what a deal. This was really a nice guy. I receive a lot of packages from UPS. Being an author, I receive and ship books quite often, and I use their services regularly. All of the local drivers know me so I wasn’t worried about the delivery truck not being able to find my address. And I didn’t want to miss that new car. After all, my KIA is 3 years old already.

We hung up from our conversation. I was elated that I had won 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz. Did I mention that Mr. Robertson said this car came with three years of prepaid full-coverage insurance? I think I might have missed that detail. Sorry. I'm getting forgetful. According to my kids, old age is creeping up on me.

I knew I had a few minutes to spare because my bedroom is only across the hall from my office, so it wouldn’t take me long to get out of my pajamas and into my blue jeans. I was so excited that I decided I wouldn’t even put on any socks; just my sandals because I was a millionaire now and could dress any way I want to. But in the meantime, I decided to make a few phone calls, just in case this wonderful windfall might not be completely legitimate.

I called the local UPS store and asked them to verify the tracking number of my 2.5 million dollar certified check delivery, and that they had a truck parked at a gas station only four miles from my house. Can you imagine my dismay when I learned that my tracking number was not properly formatted? “Oh no,” I said to the UPS clerk, “what am I to do?” Well, being the wonderful service organization that UPS is, the clerk connected me to the national UPS tracking service. But again, much to my dismay, the UPS number wasn’t properly formatted and the UPS had no record of Mr. Robertson or his personal identification number.

I thought, does Mr. Robertson know that UPS tracking numbers are 16-digits long now, and they start with 01 instead of 19? Maybe I should call him back and confirm my information. So I dialed the number he gave me, which by the area code I recognized as an Oklahoma number. Much to my surprise, the phone rang in a private residence in Duncan, Oklahoma and was answered by a very nice lady that did not know Mr. Robertson either. The lady and I had a very pleasant conversation about Duncan because my wife and I had just returned from the annual Chisholm Trail Book Festival hosted by that lovely little town. We also discussed Mr. Robertson giving her phone number out as his own. How odd? She said she might call the police and report it, just in case.

What was I to do? The UPS couldn’t confirm my tracking number, and the lady in Duncan didn’t seem to know what was going on. Perhaps I should call the Better Business Bureau. Maybe they would know how to get hold of Mr. Robertson.

“A scam!” I exclaimed when the lady at the BBB said they’ve had several people call them about the very same phone call claiming they’d won 2.5 million dollars and a brand new Mercedes Benz automobile. But that’s my car and money, I thought. Why is Mr. Robertson offering it to people all over town. I wondered if the UPS truck was parked only four miles from everybody's house.

Wilma, my wife, showed up about that time. I explained our good fortune to her, and that with 2.5 million dollars, we would use that money to pay off all of our credit cards, as far as it would go, and if there was any left, she could use it to buy her own 40-year anniversary present that I forgot to buy for her last week. Guess I am getting just a little forgetful.

I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t take my good new serious. Instead, this woman that I've loved for forty years wrestled me to the floor and took my car keys and checkbook away from me, and wouldn’t let me go to Western Union to send $299 to Mrs. Mary Robinson (still oddly similar, isn’t it?) in Bessemer, Alabama. She sat on top of me, and pulled my ears, and told me that I may have been the unwitting victim of a scam artist.

“Mr. Robertson?” I asked. “That nice man? Not Mr. Robertson.”

I was heartbroken, devastated, demoralized, and disillusioned. Did this mean I wasn’t going to get my prize? Could that nice Mr. Robertson be a scammer, a dishonest person that calls elderly people at home in the middle of the day to defraud them of their meager savings? Surely not. “Not Mr. Robertson, Lord,” I prayed. “Say it isn’t so…!”

Thirty-minutes after hanging up from Mr. Robertson, he called again to say that Mrs. Robinson (there’s that name again) in Bessemer, Alabama had not received the $299 wire from Western Union. What could I say? Wilma had my car keys, she had pulled my ears, and the battery is dead on my truck. So I did the only thing I could do. I told Mr. Robertson that I had called both the local UPS store and their national headquarters, and that neither he nor the tracking number he gave to me existed, and that the lady in Duncan, Oklahoma would like for him to stop giving out her phone number. I also told him that I had called the Better Business Bureau and they were aware of his scam. I also told him that he was a liar and a thief and that he’d better never call me again. Then just to show that I am a true gentleman, I told him that he could personally take my 2.5 million dollar certified check and my brand new Mercedes Benz automobile and drive it up his ….. driveway…..

So for all of my friends and relatives that I’ve not seen in 15-years, it won’t do any good to call and tell me about your sister needing a kidney transplant, and if you only had $10,000 you’d pay for it yourself. Sorry, I didn’t get the money. Call me in 15 years. We'll try again.

I’m very sad. I’m not a millionaire. Oh well, I wasn’t one yesterday either. Guess I better get back to writing my new book and try to get rich the old fashion way -- by working for it.

P.S. This is a true story. Every detail I've outlined in these paragraphs is absolutely true. Well, almost. Wilma didn't really wrestle me down, take my keys, and pull my ears. But she could have if she had wanted to.

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Hey folks, my new children's book Strangers in the Stable is available October 1, 2011. It's a wonderful telling of the nativity on the night of Christ's birth, seen from the viewpoint of the animals in the stable. Visit my website at www.jimlaughter.com for details.

And don't forget my newest novel, The Apostle Murders, a suspense thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat while you watch a serial killer recreate the martyrdom of the original apostles of Jesus Christ.