Just before noon the telephone rings.
“Grandpa, do you know who this is?” a young man asks.
For a moment I don’t recognize the voice, so I go through a process of elimination. It definitely isn’t Nate, a sophomore at Texas A and M. And it isn’t Ethan, I’d recognize his voice immediately, so it must be Theo, the youngest of my daughter Catherine’s three sons, a freshman at Casa Grande High School in Petaluma.
“Theo?”
“Yes, it’s me, Grandpa,” Theo replies, his voice trembling, “and I’m in big trouble.”
This news really hits me.
“Okay, tell me all about it.”
“I’m in Florida----in jail.”
Now I’m really worried.
“What happened? What did you do?”
“It’s kind of a long story, but I didn’t do anything bad.”
He sounds like he’s crying, and my heart goes out to him.
“I came down here for a jobs conference. Grandpa. Do you know what an Uber car is?”
“Sure, I say,” waiting for him to get to the point.
“Well, after the conference was over I called Uber and asked a driver to take me to the Orlando airport, but on the way there we got pulled over by the police. I thought it was because the driver was speeding, but they searched the car and found narcotics in the trunk next to my suitcase.”
This is coming at me so fast I stop wondering why Theo’s parents allowed their fifteen year old son to go by himself all the way to Orlando for a jobs conference. The whole idea sounded improbable. Preposterous, even. Then I remembered when I was a 17 year old freshman at the University of Iowa 65 years ago attending a careers conference at the student union. About 30 businesses set up tables and we went around asking about job opportunities at companies like IBM and Johnson & Johnson and listened to their representatives give us a sales pitch. Even the army, navy and marines had recruiting booths. Well, sure, I suppose Cathy and Marty showed Theo how much they trusted him by saying yes when he asked if he could go there. After all, didn’t my other daughter’s sons ages 9 and 11 fly by themselves to Atlanta recently to see their grandparents?
“Okay, Theo, what happened next? Did the drugs belong to you?”
“No no, grandpa. The driver told the cops they were mine, and I told them they belonged to the driver, so they took both of us to the police station, tested me and I was clean. Then a detective told me that if I agreed to testify against the driver in court they’d let me out on bail, but I’d have to come back to Florida in 3 to 6 weeks when his case came up.”
Now Theo was finally coming to the point, the real reason he called me.
“So how much is bail?”
“$15,000, but it’s totally refundable after I testify.”
“Of course I want to help you,” I tell him, “but first I’m going to call your folks and let them know what’s going on. Don’t worry, I’ll stand up for you because I believe you’re innocent.”
"No no no no!” Theo pleads, his voice trembling badly now. “Don’t call them. When I get home I’ll tell them everything, but it’s got to be face to face. Otherwise they might think I was smuggling the narcotics and lying to the cops, but I know I can convince them I wasn’t if you’ll let me handle this the honorable way.”
“Theo, you need a lawyer.”
“I’ve got one. He wants to talk to you.”
“Mr. Field?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Ryan Williams. I’m Theo’s lawyer from legal aide. I believe he’s innocent, but he’s really shook up and needs to get out of jail, go home and tell his parents what happened so he can clear his name.”
“Theo said his bail is set at $15,000.”
“That’s correct,” Williams says. His voice is very steady, professional, like he’s handled many cases like this one in the past----just another scape a kid’s gotten himself into, and it’s his job to clear everything up with the police.
“So how should I send the money?”
“Send it to a bail bondsman named Terry Parker and he’ll have Theo out of jail and on his way home this afternoon. What you need to do is deposit $15,000 in cash at Bank of America. Don’t wire the money. Cash will get through immediately.”
“My bank is Wells Fargo.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Williams says. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
I tell him I do.
“Take the cash to any Bank of America branch and deposit it in account number 483 047991236. You got that?”
“I do.”
“The routing number is 026009593. By the way, it’s 3 o’clock out here and the banks close at 5. Can you get the money to Parker in the next couple of hours?”
“I can. But tell Theo to call his folks right now. They’ll believe him.”
“He only gets one phone call,” Williams informs me.
“Let me talk to Theo again. Then I’ll go to my bank.”
“Hello grandpa. Thank you so much.”
I can feel Theo’s relief in the tone of his voice. As soon as he hangs up I call his father and ask if I can speak to Theo. If he’s in Florida I’ll keep my promise and send the money.
“Theo’s in class right now,” his dad says, “but I’ll tell him to call you when he gets home.”
I’m tremendously relieved, but still have questions about whether or not Theo was somehow involved in this scam, so as I explain to Marty what happened and ask him if he has any idea how the scammers got my phone number and seemed to know so much about Theo and me.
“They probably hacked Theo’s Facebook website,” Marty says, and suggests that I change my Facebook password and take out Identity Theft.
An hour later Theo’s so-called legal aide lawyer phones and asks me why I haven’t sent the money.
“Because Theo is in Petaluma, California, I tell him.”
Then I call the sheriff’s department and report what happened, but am told that because no crime was actually committed there was nothing they could do about it and suggested that I contact the Federal Trade Commission and give them the details of the scam.
Tomorrow Theo is coming over to our house-----and I can’t wait to see him.
***
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