318: With Great Power

Years ago, back when the movie Shindor's List came out, I was friends with these two missionaries. They um worked with Chicago gang kids who they would meet in prison and try to bring to God. Anyway, one day I got a call from them and they just had seen Shindor's List and they wanted to talk about it. call you a Jewish friend. This ancient was a star was a Jewish friend.

Anyway, so we got together and um what they said was first of all, we think we understand you better now, thanks to Schindler's. And I think what that was about was they knew about the Holocaust, of course, before this. Um but but it was more of a as a kind of a historical fact, like you read about in a book.

the reality of what happened in the Holocaust I don't think ever had really hit them. You know, the emotional reality of it. It just hadn't hit them in the gut, all those people dying. So we got together and we talked about it and um They said the scene that touched them most uh was at the end of the film and um maybe you s seeing Shindler's list. It's a scene uh after the war and it's this rich guy, Schindler.

who had been uh using his money during the war to save Jews from dying in the concentration camps, and he realizes that now that the war is over, he could have saved so many more people. You know, he still had money he hadn't used. He could have saved more people. And there's a scene where he goes from person to person saying stuff like I could have sold this pin, you know, and saved two more Jews. It's gold. Or this car. Oh God, what about this car? Why did I get the

So we're talking about this scene, and my friends Jane and Glenn, the missionaries, say this thing that totally surprised me. They said, that's us. That's our daily life, that scene. That's our life. This Saturday, for example, uh Glenn says, he wanted to stay home and watch the ballgame on TV, you know, but he thought to himself, No, no, I gotta go out there and I gotta save another kid. I gotta try to save another kid, you know, I gotta go to the jail, I gotta go to juvie.

And they both said that okay, at the end of their lives, it's gonna be just like that scene in Schindler's list. They're gonna go to heaven and they're gonna be called to account and it's gonna be all, you know, you took this day off and you pretended to be doing paperwork and you could have been out there saving another kid or, you know, you watched the double header with Cincinnati and there was a teenager who was ready to hear your message and come to God.

and they were gonna be held to account. I think before this conversation, my understanding of Jane and Glenn's life was pretty much exactly like their understanding of the Holocaust. You know, like I I understood, like in my head, I understood intellectually that they had given their lives over to serving God. I understood that as a a fact. But what it actually meant had not totally penetrated me. Jane and Glenn, my friends, they were like superheroes, you know? They had this incredible power.

the power to save somebody, to bring them to God, to turn somebody's life around. And I gotta say, I met kids whose lives were completely straightened out because of them. They did a really nice job. They did save kids. And with their great power came great responsibility. A responsibility they tried really, really hard to live up to.

Well today on our radio show we have other people who feel that same sense of power and responsibility in their daily lives. And I'm not just talking here about judges and doctors and four star generals and people who you would expect. and hope would feel the burden that comes with that amount of power. I'm talking about normal people, people you might not suspect. Well from W B Easy Chicago into This American Life, I'm Iraq Glass. Our program today

with great power are shown in three acts. Act one. Objects inside of your mirror are truer than they appear. Act two Unwelcome wagon. Act three, Waiting for Joe. In that act, Sherlock Mouse Lander has a tale of the being with more power than any other and more responsibility. Stay with us.

Just American Life, today's show is a rerun. Act one. Objects inside View Mirror are truer than they appear. Well the woman at the center of this next story has the power to change two people's lives, and change them in a big way. And what's interesting is at the height of her power, she doesn't even know she has it. Alex Cotwitz tells the story. On this one August day in 1979, Carla Dimkoff learned something which shaped the rest of her life and the life of a complete stranger.

And the thing about it is, it took twenty six years for her to realize that. At the time, Carla was nineteen years old. Living in a trailer home in the small town of White Cloud, Michigan, when her father, James Keller, who lived in Tennessee, showed up unannounced driving a motor home. Her father was a bit of a vagabond, so So this surprise visit wasn't all that unusual. He did this all the time. He would he would basically abandon my mom.

And he would just take off for days at a time and he would end up wherever he wanted, um in several different states. And this time um he ended back up in Michigan and Carla was kind of at loose ends herself. She'd been raising a daughter alone, and the day her father arrived, Carla had gotten married, to a man she'd met just a week before. Her father gave them twenty dollars as a wedding gift and wished them well. Then they went their separate ways for the evening.

Carla and her new husband got home around two AM, but her father was still out. He stayed out most of the night, but When I w got up the next morning, um, it was fairly early. Um I wanna say between seven and seven and nine, ten A. M. Um, he was in the driveway, walked outside and then I said, Uh you know, hi, where you been?

And um at some point he told me he had been at the lamplight bar for a little while and I was kind of puzzled because the bars close at two fifteen or two thirty and I wondered where he had been the rest of the evening. I really never got an answer to that. Stranger was what he was doing in the driveway. He was repairing the side view mirror on his motor home. It had actually been broken off, and he was putting a whole new mirror on it. And

Which I thought was strange. Why throw all the junk when you you're ten feet from a dumpster into the motor home? And he was in just such a hurry about it. It just struck me odd for a minute. And the next thing I know he said, Well, I'm out of here. And he left, and I didn't speak to him probably. Several months to eat. It wasn't just that Carla's father was

That makes him seem benign. He was, by Carla's recollection, a violent man. Carla remembers once she was slurping while eating spaghetti, and he hurled the table on its side. But it was much worse than that. When Carla turned eleven, her mother told her that her father had molested a young girl. Carla tried to protect others in the family, and that brought her into direct conflict with her dad, like one of the times he went after her mother.

I stepped into the middle of it and he punched me in the jaw. And I ended up in the emergency room later that evening. How old were you? Around sixteen, Physically of my father, emotionally of my um of him and I was afraid to be alone with him after that.

This is all important to know in order to understand what Shortly after Carla's dad drove out of town, Carla picked up the Times indicator, the local newspaper, and read that on the very same night her dad didn't come home, just hours before she found him in the driveway fixing his busted side view mirror. A nineteen year old woman had been killed on a nearby road, a deep gash in her head.

In the article, the sheriff said, and I quote, We assume she was hit by an unknown vehicle, maybe by a mirror or some projection. I just thought, oh my god. I had an overwhelming feeling that my father had killed someone. And um I just um needed to s to tell what I knew.

At first she went to her minister who urged her to go to the police, which she did the very next day. She had a friend drive her to the police station in town, where she learned that the detective in charge of the case wasn't in. So she left him a note. This is the letter I wrote to Detective Foster and it says Mr. Foster. I would like to speak with you concerning the death of Christy Ringler. I do not have a car. If you could possibly stop out to my house after three PM today,

Would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, Mrs. Tarot. That evening, um there were two detectives that actually came out. Um they were They knocked on the door, they came in, I told them the whole story about my dad had been here. Just a little bit of a history of my dad, not a whole lot of history. And they were like, Okay, well we have this information, thank you. I've had the feeling when they came in.

they thought they were wasting their time. I don't even think they sat down. Um they stood there just kind of towering over me. Um I and I was c clearly intimidated by the whole situation, not really ever dealing with anything like this. And um Maybe I just made myself sound unsure.

See, Carla laid out two possible scenarios for the detectives one that her father accidentally struck this girl while driving home from the lamp light bar. That seemed likely given his shattered side view mirror and his eagerness to get out of town. The other, well, she thought it was possible that her father had killed Christy Ringley on purpose.

that knowing her dad, maybe he'd tried to flirt with Christie at the lamp light, that maybe she'd repelled his advances, and that maybe on the way home he saw her on the road and rammed her with his side view mirror. Carla now believes, though, that this speculative scenario didn't sit too well with the detective. They made me feel like a fool.

Like I had a grudge to grind when I was trying to get my father in trouble or something and just this poor trailer And were you conscious about living in a trailer, about being poor? Very, very, you know. I knew that wasn't the thing to do. I knew that's not where I wanted to be.

So the detectives leave and you know in your heart of hearts that your dad was somehow involved in this in the death of this girl. What do you do with that knowledge? I bury it. When she looks back on it, this was the moment of truth. This was her opportunity to act. She feels like she just gave up without any kind of fight.

Carla ordinarily didn't back down easily, but she'd been dismissed often before. In seventh grade she went to a guidance counselor about her dad's alleged abuse, and all the counselor did was go tell her parents. Then remember the time she ended up in the emergency room? Well she told a doctor there that her father had punched her. Nothing came of that either.

So when the detectives disregarded what she had to say, it felt familiar, like this was how it was always going to be. Her dad would elude any responsibility for what he'd done. She wasn't about to confront her father, who she feared would physically hurt her if she did. And as for the authorities,

The thought um never occurred to me to go back to the police. Um I didn't want to feel that feeling again, of that intimidation of just being dismissed. Um And that's r really a selfish thought now that I think about it. The thing was, though, she couldn't keep it buried, at least emotionally. She thought about it all the time that her father had in all likelihood, accidentally or purposefully, killed someone, and that she hadn't done enough about it. You know, I had these horrible nightmares

This dead girl was walking down the street trying to chase after me. Her body's all dismembered and and I got the the The feeling in my dream. God, I sound like a nut. That she was chasing me. And I couldn't ever figure out why are you chasing me? You know, there's been times where I could not think about it or I would be a a wreck. Can you can you remember a particular moment?

Yeah, I can remember um one time driving in the car and just thinking about my life in general and all the things that had gone on and it always ends up with Christy and I often thought, oh, I could just stop thinking if I just hit that tree. Just tortured. David interview with uh Larry Pat Sauter taking place in the Wale County Sheriff's Department. Present at this interview is Larry Pat Souter. Deputy John Sutton and Detective Charles Foster.

Date is 8277. Carla wasn't the only person damaged by Christy Ringler's death. The tape you just heard is a tape police interview of Larry, a wiry Smile, who liked to party. And while he didn't live in White Cloud, the night of Ringler's death he had been visiting a friend there. Bye.

I don't think we drank at his house if I remember correctly, but we went down to the what they call a lamp like bar, which would have been south of town. And uh we'd sat there and drank oh Maybe three hours on a bar? Larry met a woman at the lamp light. It was Christy Ringler. They caught each other's eye, and when Larry and his friend went to party down the road, there was Christie as well. Okay, when you got to the house? What happens? Jump on in.

And she was out and satin on the front steps and and I went out and sat on the front steps and Then we went out into the front of the yard, there was a tree out there and we're kinda satin up there by the tree and stuff and, you know, kinda kissing a little bit, this and that. And then she uh got up and she walked off and started walking towards town, which would be back north towards White Cloud.

Larry, who had a good deal to drink, says he offered to try to find her a ride, but she insisted she'd be all right. The last time Larry saw her, she was walking down the dark, two lane road by herself. Two days after Ringler's death, the police asked Larry to come down to the station for this questioning. The interview lasted an hour and fifteen minutes. Larry didn't bring a lawyer. He didn't feel he had anything to hide. All right, this tape's gonna be terminated at uh sixteen, fifteen hours.

And then I don't think I heard anything from him for probably Twelve and a half yeah. Larry returned to his life, driving a truck in the Then one day One day it's I went to work, which is November fourteenth, and it's easier to remember'cause it was the day before deer season. And uh they came to work and they said that you're under arrest for or for open murder. I think that's what it was. Did you know what they were talking about? I had an alcohol.

This was in 1992. Like Larry said, twelve and a half years after Christy Wringler's death. A new sheriff had reopened the case and it quickly got a lot of publicity. Larry, who's quiet and reserved, felt deeply embarrassed. You know, my name was in the paper, uh my face is in the paper. It's like, oh my God. I mean I mean this is humiliation. Had you ever been arrested before? But Larry assumed that justice would just find its way. This is Melody, his wife. They offered him a plea bargain.

for two to five years if he would admit he did it. And he refused to because he didn't. And what did you tell them? And I told him you you can't plead guilty to something you didn't do. The prosecutors argued that Larry had bludgeoned Christy Ringler with a pint sized bottle of Canadian club whiskey. Their key piece of evidence was the testimony by pathologists that the bottom ridge of the bottle matched Ringler's injuries.

At the trial, no mention was made of Carla's note and her subsequent interview with the detectives. The suitors believed the prosecution buried it. Larry was convicted and sentenced to twenty to sixty years. My world just came right out from underneath me. You know, I mean in in total shock. It was a nightmare, straight up nightmare.

There is, I suspect, nothing more confounding and debilitating than being sent to prison for something you didn't do. And the years behind bars had their effect on Larry as well as on his wife Melody, Melody had a car accident after visiting Larry in prison and lost her factory job. She had to move back home with her parents, where she spent most of her time going over and over trial transcripts and police reports. She gave up the idea of ever having children.

And I had a hosterectomy while he was in prison. So you gave that up as well? Yeah. And in the years Larry was in prison, he struggled to sustain himself too. One of the ways he did that was to build these meticulously constructed western scenes out of toothpicks. log cabins, churches, saloons, covered bridges. He trimmed the toothpicks, sometimes twenty five hundred of them, for one model, with a nail clipper so that they fit together with glue like cut log.

The hours upon hours spent constructing them helped keep his mind off his case. I don't know. But you know, I just try and say to myself, you know, just you know, let it go and take one day at night. Larry and Melody believed there had to be someone out there with some knowledge about what happened that night. And so Melody, along with Larry's sister, searched and searched and searched.

We made trips to look for people. We went to Nuago County when people told us we were crazy we could get killed. And uh we w interviewed people, we talked to people, we you know We did everything we could to try to, you know, find out what really happened to this Of course, the person they were looking for was Carla, but they didn't know she even existed. And Carla was completely unaware of them as well.

In the twenty six years since Christy Ringler's death, Carla had gotten divorced and remarried to a college professor. She now lived a comfortable life outside Grand Rapids in a spacious A frame home on five acres of land. Her father had died in nineteen ninety nine, and all she could think about afterwards was he'd gotten away with it completely, and that tore at her.

And then one day in January of last year, she picked up a newspaper and read for the very first time about Larry's suitor. Melody, Larry's wife, had convinced John Smetanka, a former prosecutor, to take Larry's case. A medical examiner who had testified at Larry's trial now believed it was unlikely Ringler's wounds were caused by a whiskey bottle. I was sitting in here in this living room and my husband was in the TV room and I read this article about Christy Wrangler.

Has been convicted of this. I uh I'm telling you, I literally just about fell on the floor. It hit Carla. Because she had held on to this knowledge about her father's probable involvement in Christianity. Somewhere. and spoke with his associate. I said to her. I I'm a crazy woman or something'cause I'm sure you don't get these phone calls all the time. But I know the Slary Souter story that you're working on and I reported that my dad killed that girl.

They did in fact worry she might be a crazy person. No one had ever seen anything from the police indicating that they'd interviewed Carla. So the attorneys quickly filed a Freedom of Information Act request, and in a stack of police reports they received, they found the very note that Carla had left for Detective Foster. as well as half a page of nearly indecipherable notes the detectors took from an apparent phone interview with her father.

One thing led to another, and within two months Larry Souter got word that the authorities finally believed him. His conviction was vacated, and after thirteen years and eighteen days in prison on april first of last year, he walked out a free man. Carla at first asked the attorneys to keep her identity hidden, though that was impossible because it was such a public case. Mostly she felt she had completely failed this man, this stranger, Larry's suitor. A long time.

About two months after being released from prison, Larry told his lawyer that he wanted to meet Carla, so they agreed to have lunch at a local Applebee's, and Carla prepared herself for Larry's fury. My husband literally had to helped me out of the car. I was trembling so much. And I knew who he was right away when we walked in. we just both kinda collapsed in tears. I wasn't sure why he was crying, but I was just I could hardly look at him.

By recent afternoon, Larry came by to see Carla. Somewhat surprisingly, they've become friends, and in an odd twist of fate, they're both battling cancer and have helped each other out. Their respective treatments. On this rainy afternoon, the two stood in the kitchen in a tight embrace, and as they held each other, Carla became overwhelmed with guilt and began to cry. It's gonna be all right. Sorry. Carla can't help herself. Whenever she sees Larry, she breaks down and apologizes.

There was even a period of two months when Carla wouldn't return Larry's phone calls. You can only apologize so many times and felt the need to do it all the time. I just seem like you're awfully hard on yourself. I mean you've righted something. You've got you gave somebody his freedom. I didn't give Larry his freedom. What he didn't do gave him his freedom. If I was gonna give him his freedom I would have given it to him thirteen years ago. And I didn't do that, and that's where I failed.

But I think you've been so hard on yourself you didn't you didn't know he was there. No, but I knew what the right thing at the moment was. You know, in my heart of hearts, I knew what was happening and I just let it go. And I don't understand a person that can do that. Here's the strange thing about all this. In certain ways all of this has been harder for Carla to handle than for Larry.

Sometimes you happen upon a moment you witness something on the street, let's say a man threatening a woman or a parent hitting a child. and the fate of a complete stranger rests on how you handle things, and you feel powerless to do anything, so you turn your head, you walk away, or, as in Carla's case, you try to do something but not forcefully enough. Then you resume your life, though those moments stay with you.

Well imagine if you got a second chance. Carla did, and she paid a price for getting a second shot at it. Now she's even more tormented, because it really has sunk in, the kind of power she held twenty-six years earlier. And so she feels ashamed. Larry, though, sees it all quite differently. That's what he calls me, his angel. Um matter of fact, he brought me a gift a couple of weeks ago and it's um a lawn ornament and it has Yeah, point to the. Couple angels. And it and it lights up at night.

I want you to know I go out in the middle of the night when I can't sleep and I look at it. While Carlos spends sleepless nights staring at her angels, remembering the past, Larry's trying to forget. Right after he got released, he and Melody built a bonfire to burn all the clothes and letters associated with his time in prison.

Not long ago as a gift, Larry gave one of his toothpick instructions to Carla. She has it displayed in her living room. It's a log cabin with a chimney built with pebbles Larry collected from the prison yard. This, of course, is what Larry did to forget. But now Carla has it as a constant. Alex Kotlowitz is the author of several books, most recently An American Summer. Today's show, like I said earlier, is a rerun from years ago. Carla died from breast cancer in 2008.

The family wishes for years to get the power to defend themselves against a dangerous neighbor, and then they get it. And they have to decide if they want to use it. That's in a minute in Chicago Public Radio when our program continues. It's American Life, Myra Glass. If you can I program, of course, we choose a theme, bring you a variety of different kinds of stories on that theme. Today's show, with great power.

Stories about ordinary people who find themselves with the superhero's dilemma with great power comes great responsibility. We've arrived at Act Two of our show, Act two, Unwelcome Wagon. There's a kind of a power that only means something if you don't use it. Like for example, threatening to use a nuclear weapon.

This story is about something like that. Except instead of taking place in the desolate borders of rival nations who hate and fear each other, it occurs entirely on a quiet street in the suburbs, between next door neighbors. We've changed the names of everybody who you're going to hear from in this story. As we go along you'll see why.

It begins years ago with a woman who we're going to call Betty and her husband, when they decided to move from the inner city to a quiet suburban neighborhood. Their kids were young. At first it was great, but then their next door neighbor decided he was going to build a fence. On what he thought was the property line. And he kept saying, I know where the property line is. I've lived here twelve years and I'm putting my fence on it.

Then my husband said, Well, we should get a survey because our deed doesn't show it there. So um we had we asked him to do a survey and he refused. This is Betty's daughter, who's now all grown up, who we're called Julia. So we had a survey done anyway. Of all things, the survey gave even more land to the neighbor than he thought he'd had.

Which you would think would have made him happy. But in fact, Betty and Chuilla say, it just made him mad, because he had not waited for the survey to start building this fence. And now, thanks to the survey that he had not wanted, his yard was actually bigger and he had to move the fence. He was very angry and he was going to sue us because he said we made him put his fence in the wrong place. It all started from that.

And so and so how much of the fight was actually about the property and how much was it that he just didn't like the look of you, you know? I'm guessing about ten percent about the property, ninety percent didn't like us. The word that they used often about us and he very often was, You people ain't from here. We were just different I guess than we were. Red Liberals. Yeah, we were liberals. Um we looked different. We acted different. After that thing started happening. They started small.

One night Betty was on the phone, and she looked out the window towards the neighbor's yard. Each of the two houses had a long driveway coming back from the road, and the two driveways were nearly side by side. The neighbor's truck was in his driveway, near the two houses. I could see uh cigarettes being relit out in his vehicle and I realized that he sat in his vehicle and watched uh So he watched us for hours into our living room, which had these big picture windows.

And I can't think of anything more boring than watching us, but he did. Yeah. That was the beginning. Um Wait, so he would just sit there for hours? You guys are like coming in and out of the the the family room with a bowl of popcorn and you sit in front of the T V and like that's what he's exactly. Wow. And we didn't go to anybody because you know, he can sit out in his truck if he wants to. It's a little strange.

At first they figured he would just lose interest and stop, but he didn't stop. Other things started happening. They got crank calls. For a while, every time they sat down to dinner they got a call. Their license plate disappeared. The lights outside their house were shot out with a BB gun. They called the cops, only to be told that if they wanted to build a case, they needed to capture the crimes on videotape, which they tried to do.

And more interested than anything else, every time they left the house, it seemed like the neighbor was waiting for them. We could not go outside without some interaction, without him yelling or Uh insulting us in some way. And what would he yell? Oh well to me it was always the same. Okay, we're just gonna stop the tape right there. For a quick warning to listeners, a nice southern lady is about to get a little salty.

Oh, well to me it was always the same. Get your ugly old lass out of here, you ugly old bitch. You old bitch shouldn't be on this earth. To my husband it would be You a you ain't no man. There's nothing to you. You're you're worthless. You let your wife wear the pants in the family. And he sat there with popcorn. watching us and mocking us and saying, Oh, y'all are putting on a big show you know, y'all want some popcorn? And offered it to my dad. Wait, and w and what were you all doing?

Just going into the garage, maybe to get a bike or uh to get some old furniture out from storage. It's such a commitment to to messing with you. Yes. It was his life. One morning they woke up to find this neighborly greeting. The words bitch and whore literally carved into their lawn in giant black letters. One set was up by the house, the other set down by the curb. And they were done with some type of very strong um weed killer. Um That would last a year.

Yeah. We would either have to have them dug out and dig down like two feet or they were gonna be there for a year. And and so and so people would drive by your house for a year and the word Yeah. The bus would pick me up for school in eighth grade and it would be there. No one would say anything though. There was also a picture we interpreted to be of a dog doing an obscene act with a woman. Wait, you mean he drew it on the lawn? With the weed cowler. Yes. A dog and a woman?

It was it was good enough that neighbors knew what it was. And um did did you have the feeling that the entire neighborhood was against you? Yes. Yes. Really? Like everybody sided with him. I don't know that I would go so far to say they sided with him, but More the feeling. You've stirred up something in the neighborhood that we didn't want stirred up. That we set him off somehow, and that it was our fault.

They have other stories. The neighbor would play chicken with their car. He'd point his headlights into their house for hours, flash them on and off. When they went away on vacation, he would drive under their lawn, spin the tires. When Julia's little brother went out on his bike, the neighbor would get on a bike himself sometimes, encircle the little brother, and lunge at him, so he would fall off. He was only eight.

It was strange they say to feel that somebody hated them so much. N at some point he started going after your pets? Yeah. This was a very emotional thing for me. I mean I'm just it's it's we didn't tell Julia about it until I guess this past year. Not all the details. I was an animal lover as a kid. I always took home the the cat on the side of the road. And I had a little bit Black cat. Named Phoenix. Mm-hmm. And he killed it. He killed it.

One day we found Phoenix um beside the fence, but just pushed through the bottom of the fence on our property. And if you looked across his driveway at the end of his house, there was a big metal baseball bat leaning against the house. Well, by that time we had attorneys and um they said take the cat and have it autopsied and we did and it had been killed by a blow, two blows, too wet.

But that was a part of him. He not only killed the cat, but he wanted you to know how he did it. And by leaving the bat, we knew What happened? He had left it out by the driveway for me to find while I waited for the school bus, but it was a snow day that day. So my parents were the ones who found it. And so did you not find out about it f for years later? I just knew he died. We just couldn't tell her.

They thought about moving. They even put their house on the market, after the words bitch and whore had grown back in the lawn, of course. But the economy wasn't so great, and the house didn't sell. So they stayed, vowing not to let the neighbor get to them. This wasn't easy. But now they were in the middle of basically an all out war. What?

There were restraining orders and counter restraining orders and court charges and counter charges. By this time both sides were videotaping each other, Betty and her husband trying over and over to get some proof that would finally incriminate the neighbor and stop him, never getting it. So that's how it went for over two years. And then

A fateful pile of garbage was dumped into the lawn. A pile of garbage that was actually able to change the balance of power, giving Julia and Betty and her family both great power and great responsibility. The neighbor had thrown trash on the property before, mostly little things cans, cigarette butts, nothing interesting, nothing useful. But one day we went out and there was a whole lot of stuff. It was papers.

letters, bank statements, uh mortgage. It had everything about them. Uh That series of numbers that, you know, makes us the person we are in America. His social security number, yes. He and his why. I always suspected it was maybe the wife got mad at him or one of the daughters because they were adult, young women. And actually in that pile of stuff.

uh, were letters from the daughters saying, Oh, Mom, why don't you know, sort of like Daddy's terrible and you're good and um personal things as well as business type. Things. I mean you photocopied a few of these and sent them to us. I have to say how do we have them here? They're so unbelievably personal. It it's uh you feel you feel uh embarrassed to to read them. You do. You do.

I mean I mean one of them one of them, you know, starts with a sort of caveat, I hope you never read this letter because if you do it means that, you know, things are just very bad between us and You know, another one, one of the daughters sort of says like, Well, I'm writing this letter while you and Dad are fighting over some silly stuff and you just it's so um heartbreaking. It is.

He was so mean and that showed what his family thought of him, how he had raised him to be, what his wife thought of him. You know, we were a family that loved each other. We had dinner together and you know. Yeah. We still laughed and and had fun. So suddenly you guys had his social security number and all these bank numbers and all that. And and you've s saved it? Yes we have. We have a briefcase and it's it's our little treasure chest.

So really suddenly you had like a tr tremendous uh leverage over him. I mean you could really d d do some damage. Did did you think about it? Oh yes. Uh we talked about it. W what did you think about doing? Oh um closing up his business and bank account. posting all his information in some truck stop or in mini truck stops across the southeast so that somebody could steal it. Just like posting his his social security number.

Yeah. Right. Making him a child porn person so he could never live anywhere comfortable again. Put'em on a uh sex offender list, you know. Katovia Tehezbolah He could join Namla. Any of those type things would would be be be good. The joy in your voice as you're saying these words. Yeah.

So now they had great power to mess with their neighbor, to punish their neighbor. He would never know what hit him. He would have no idea it was them. And despite what we're I have to say, clearly hours and hours that they spent talking about the revenge fantasies. They held their fire. They showed restraint. We had the thought. But we never did anything. Oh wow, so so so so so y it was just nice to hold on to them in in the special breeze case as a sort of secret weapon.

Yeah. I have a little piece of him in this briefcase. And and at at any time we could do something with it. Well in a way then the main thing that that finding all these papers that it gives you it's like a gift because it helps with the one thing you've got, which is being able to fantasize about revenge. Right. It's right. That's true. And if we ever used it, that would be gone. I mean, if we put it out in the truck stop or uh did something on the internet.

w that would be gone. We'd have done our thing. And you know, we still can fantasize. Yeah. Um. But it would be different if we didn't have these things because, you know, saying if you have no power then not using power means nothing. But we have the power to do something, uh, but we choose not to. I don't know. and control over him in a way we never had when he was tormented. Eventually the neighbor moved away. Stopping back to Haraz. Julia and Betty and their family may.

But after all these years they've kept them. Yeah.

Act three, Waiting for Joe. Well in this act we make a little shift. This is going to be a story about somebody with great power, but the story is going to be told from the point of view of the power. When you're powerless, you spend a lot of time speculating about those above you. Much more than the other way around, I think. The people above us, they do not care. They don't notice you and me. Not in the same way.

But we think a lot about them. Our parents, our bosses, our bosses' bosses, the people who run our government, the people who run the big companies that shape our daily lives. What is going through their heads, we think? Why are they acting this way? And there's one figure, I think, that we wonder about more than any other. Shlom Auslander grew up in a place consumed with these particular questions and has this story.

In the beginning he was always on time, but it had been a long time since the beginning, longer than either Donut or Danish could remember. I don't get it, complained Danish. Isn't it time? It's time, answered Donut. It feels like it's time. It's time. Danish paced anxiously back and forth. Of course it was time. He knew it was time. He didn't need donut to tell him that it was time.

So where is he then? asked Danish. If it's time, then where is he? I don't understand. Either he knows that it's time or he doesn't. Does he know that it's time? Donut sat curled up inside their cold empty feeding bowl, focused intently on the doorknob of the apartment front door, believing with all of his heart that at any moment the doorknob would turn, the door would open, and Joe would appear.

We cannot pretend to think that we know what Joe knows and what Joe doesn't know, pronounced Donut with a sharp twitch of his nose. We must only believe with all our heart that Joe knows. I bet he doesn't know, said Danish. He rose up on his hind legs and flailed uselessly at the glass walls until he became exhausted. Breathing heavily, he lumbered over to the water bottle that hung in the far corner and drew a few drops into his mouth. You non believers are all the same, scoff donut.

of the dry cedar chips into a small comfortable mound and settled down upon it. As if you were the first hamster to ever doubt him, he said, the first rodent to ever think, really. Who else but you, with your keen intellect, your contrarian insight, your moral bravery and conviction? Who else could possibly come up with, what if Joe doesn't? What if Joe can't?

Joe knows who believes Danish, and Joe knows who doesn't. Joe is here, Joe is there, Joe is simply everywhere. What if he never comes back? What if he's forgotten us? What if he's died? You look around at all your plastic tube highways and your fabulous habit trail and think you're special. But do ants not build ant hills? Do bees not build hives?

It is not what we build that makes us unique, it is what we believe. It is that we believe at all. Doubt, my dear Danish, is no great achievement, it is faith that sets us apart. Besides, added Donut, he left his wallet on the front table. He's gotta come back. He stood up on his back legs and squinted through the glass. Where? Mm. Donut walked over and stood beside Danish. There on the table. Where? There That? Yes, yes.

That's not a wallet, you idiot. Of course it's a wallet. It's a book, said Danish. It's not a book. Sure it is, said Danish. I can read the spine. Along came a spider by James Patterson. He dropped down and shook his head. Oh no, he does not. Donut squinted a moment longer. Damn, it was a paperback. Why would Joe abandon them? Why would he leave a sign for them right there on the foyer table, and then make it not a sign? And why James Patterson? What did it all mean?

He does not read James Freaking Patterson, cried Danish. Our salvation, our provider? We must be out of our minds. It's a test, Donut said, as he curled back up in his bed. He's testing our faith. Danish stood on his hind legs and flailed uselessly at the glass wall until he became exhausted. He took a drink of water, climbed up into the plastic tree house, and curled into a tight, angry ball. I happen to find Patterson thought provoking and suspenseful, Donut said after a moment.

You what? asked Danish. Did you just say you find James Patterson thought provoking and suspenseful? Jesus Christ, open your eyes, donut. Don't you see what he's doing to us? Holding our food over our heads like this, dangling our fate before us like a banana raisin nut bar tied to the end of a stick? Look at you, Donut, are you so desperate to believe that you're actually defending James Patterson? I thought Cat and Mouse was a taut psychological thriller, said Donut. Oh, bite me, said Danish.

Yeah. Where the hell was Joe? Danish rummaged frantically through the seed shells and shavings that covered the floor of their transparent little world. He isn't coming, he said, looking for even a sliver of a husk of a shell of a seed. He isn't coming. Donut nestled deeper into his bed, eyes shut tight in fervent concentration. May he who has fed us yesterday, he prayed, feed us again today and tomorrow and forever. Amen. Yes, Danish suddenly shouted, Yaha!

He pulled a brown chunk of apple from beneath a small mound at the back of the cage and raised it victoriously overhead. Without even stopping to knock off the stray bits of cedar and pine needle that stuck to its sides, Danish opened his mouth wide and dropped it in. He made quite a show of chewing it, mmming and owing and eyeing, finally swallowing it with a loud, dramatic gulp.

He smiled, patted his stomach, and burped, a deep, long belch of satisfaction. He washed it down with a few drops of water, and slid down to the floor with a contented sigh.

Donut watch Danish, a sour mix of jealousy and disdain on her. His stomach groaned. Where the hell was Joe? Donut stood up and stomped over to Danish, who looked up at him lazily. Well, demanded Donut. Well what? Well maybe you could give a little thanks, said Donut. Thanks, asked Danish. To Joe, Danish, to Joe. For what? For the apple he gave you. The apple he gave me? asked Danish. I found that apple myself.

Do you think the apple just grew there? Donut shouted. How did the apple get there, Danish? We searched this cage a thousand times and never found a thing. That apple was a miracle, a gift. Joe heard my prayers, and he brought forth upon this cage a holy apple. His stomach grumbled. Danish belched again and rubbed his belly with pride. Except, Donut, that you didn't get any food. You asked, I received. Seems like a strange system to me.

He sucked a piece of apple rind out from between his teeth. Hm, not that I'm complaining. You know what, next time why don't you ask him for a carrot? I simply must start getting more fiber. Joe grants food to those who need it most, replied Donut bitterly. Danish tired quickly of Donuts lectures. Particularly when he was hungry, which he suddenly was. Again. He got back up and began searching again through the rough cedar chips that covered the floor.

Donut dragged himself wearily back to bed. The miracle of the apple had made him ravenous. Donut would never admit it. He was ashamed to even think it. But lately he'd begun to doubt. Lately, Joe and his mysterious ways were beginning to tick him off. It was the same thing with him every damn day. Begging, thanks, begging, verse, chorus, verse. Why me? wondered Donut. It must have been his own fault. He must have sinned. He must have angered Joe.

Just last week he had questioned why their litter wasn't changed more frequently. Perhaps there's a cedar shortage, he'd asked Danish sarcastically. It is a hard wood, you know. He had even complained aloud that their cage was too small. The hook Some hamsters didn't even have a cage, let alone a habit trail and an exercise wheel.

How could he have been so ungrateful? He barely even used the blessed exercise wheel, a beautiful exercise wheel that any hamster would love, and Donut had only ever used it once. He was ashamed of himself. No wonder there wasn't any food. Why should Joe give him anything more if he couldn't appreciate what he had already been given? Donut closed his eyes and silently thanked Joe for starving him in order to show him the error of his ways. Forgive me, he prayed.

And with that, Donut hurried out of bed and climbed onto the exercise wheel. He ran as fast as he could, huffing and puffing, regret and retribution nipping at his heels. Danish, meanwhile, was going mad. He'd been tricked, tricked by Joe. He was even hungrier now than he'd been before he'd eaten Joe's cursed apple. Oh yes, very good, Joe. Yes, quite witty shouted Danish. Well done, old boy. Touche Back on the exercise wheel, Donut could run no more. He stumbled back to bed.

Danish stood on his hind legs and flailed uselessly at the glass walls until he became exhausted. Donut prayed. and behold, suddenly the doorknob did turn. The apartment door did open. And Joe did appear. Danish peed in excitement, donut crapped in fear. Joe was thin and pale, and he wore a rumpled brown suit. The badge hanging from his chest pocket read Mail Room. There was a woman with him, too, a woman Danish and Donut had never seen before.

She had thin hair and thick glasses, and she and Joe wrestled their way through the doorway as one, groping and feeling and rubbing each other as if each had somehow lost the keys in the other's pants pockets. Joe groaned and tore open her blouse. Danish and Donut pressed their noses to the glass. There better be apples in there, said Danish. Brave donut.

Joe lifted the woman into his arms. To hell with dinner, he whispered. She threw her head back and laughed, and as they headed down the hallway toward his bedroom, Joe switched the living room lights off with his elbow. Darkness. Donut looked at Danish. Danish looked at Donut. We have brought this upon ourselves, said Donut. Danish stood on his hind legs and flailed uselessly at the glass walls until he became exhausted.

Shall I Mouslander? His story, Waiting for Joe, is from his collection, Beware of God. His most recent book is Fe, a memoir. バイバイ Royal program is produced today by Elise Spiegel and myself with Alex Bloomberg, Diane Cook, Jane Marie, Amy O'Leary, Lisa Pollock, and Nancy Updike. Senior producer for today's show is Julie Snyder. Elizabeth Meister ran our website back when we did this show. Production helped from Seth Lind and Kathy Hahn.

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There have been so many efforts by the Trump administration this year to pry certain people away from their jobs and their communities, the lives they've built. One family decided to respond with an unexpected secret weapon. We should just pull out the spreadsheet. I can do that. It's beautiful. It's excellent. It's a thing of beauty. Garrett and Chrissy and their magical spreadsheet next week on the podcast or on your local public radio station.