She relished the novelty and thrill

of having been summoned

to this prestigious man's home.

The sheer beauty of the place

far surpassed her expectations.

However, she was becoming suspicious

about the reason for this visit.

Now that she had received

an orientation to his home,

and notwithstanding her first impressions

of the man, she was anxious

to learn why she was here.

What could a mere reporter

do for this rich, influential man?

He began to speak soberly,

contradicting his earlier spontaneity.

“I will tell you a story

you may have difficulty believing,”

he said, softly. “I was

not born into this lifestyle.

It is ironic that there is

such a discrepancy between

what I was and what I am.

My father left the United States

when I was about two years old.

He ran a junk store

in the slums of Winnipeg

when I was a kid.

He was a vulgar man

but he knew how to

fool people into thinking

they were buying something

rare or valuable. It was

under his tutelag that

I learned to be a fraud.”

I decided at an early age

that if there was

a shortcut to success,

I could bypass the complications

of getting there by

the conventional methods. I was

like a hurricane, rushing forward

without consideration for the rules.

If it's any consolation,

I didn't intentionally harm anyone

in the process. I was able

to stay within the parameters

of the law, but just barely.

I bought and sold used furniture

before going into the antique business.

When I bought, I always

paid a fraction of the potential

worth of the goods.

When I sold, I always

made a profit. I was able

to upgrade my stock with

almost every transaction. In time,

I had a warehouse full

of merchandise.I didn't

flatter myself by thinking

I hadn't muddied the waters a bit.

I knew I had probably

stepped on a few toes, but

I was on a roll. I had

the momentum and rejoiced

in my success. As long as

the money kept coming in,

anything was permissible.

One day, I received a visit

from a rather important patron

of the arts. He had an

interesting proposition for me.

He held the patent and trademark

for the prototype of

an innovative way to determine

the age of a painting

using ultraviolet light. He would

sell them to me for

the nominal fee of a nickel

if I would reciprocate by

doing him a favor. I was

to include one of his

personal paintings in my next shipment

of antiques going to New York.

At first, I thought he was

mocking me, but he gave

me his oath that he just

wanted to ensure the painting

would arrive at its destination safely,

and, because it would be

a part of an antique shipment,

it would be exempt from import duty.

It was a provocative offer,

and even though I remained skeptical,

I agreed.A few days later,

a crated painting arrived and

was added to my goods

ready for delivery to New York.

I had always subscribed to

the theory that if something appeared

to be too good to be true,

it probably was. However,

my greed prevailed and

the painting was on its way.

I was unaware at the time

that my fortunes were about

to go into a downward spiral.

My benefactor, it turned out,

was a man with a grudge

against me. Irrespective of the fact

that I felt a deal

we had made years before

had been fair, he felt

I had cheated him.

I was about to be

the recipient of his wrath.

When my agent in New York

went to customs to retrieve

the shipment, he was greeted

by a squad of police waiting

to detain him on

charges of smuggling cocaine.

It appeared there was a bit

of a discrepancy between

what I was told was in

the crate and the actual contents.

The drugs were in

a hidden compartment in the crate.

I admit it was naive

of me to believe

I had no enemies,

but I didn't know anyone

would go to this degree

to prove how much he despised me.

Hitherto, I had gone through

life thinking that when two people

agreed to a deal, if one of

them got the better of the other,

it was fair, because they did agree.

Now I was learning that if

you take advantage of some people,

even with their permission,

you aggravate them to seek revenge.

I can't refute my recklessness.

Almost seven years have

elapsed since that time.

My agent took responsibility

for the crime and went

to jail for five years.

I felt guilty as hell,

but I continued to pay him

by sending the money to his family.

I even withheld extra

in a bonus account to give

to him when he was released.

I also gave up my business

and began to help others

start their businesses. In time,

the guilt I felt subsided.

I put my energies into stepping

into the breach to help

those less fortunate than I.

To my amazement, my luck started

to fluctuate upward and I flourished.

All you see here today,

I have accumulated since that time.

Now, it seems, my enemy

has decided to reclaim

his power over me.

He has reported the crime

and the erroneous imprisonment of my

agent and named me as

the person responsible for the offence.

I had never changed my citizenship,

so the F.B.I. wants me

deported so they can

prosecute me in New York.

I hope I can induce you,

through your column, to tell my story.

Next week I have to appear before

a magistrate for the preliminary hearing.

If I'm not mistaken, public pressure

might enable me to

avoid deportation at least.

I am more likely to get

a fair trial here than there.

My record as a good citizen

may offset the perception that

I may be a criminal.

What do you think? Will you help?

Kate had listened to this synopsis

in silence but her outrage

was building. While his story

seemed plausible, this plea

for her assistance didn't quite fit.

With his financial resources,

he could hire the best

legal team in the country.

She realized she had to

detach herself from her first impressions

and extract fact from fiction.

Why didn't she believe him?

Suddenly, it came to her.

Exposition of this version

of Victor's tale would not only

gain him public sympathy, it would

invalidate any testimony against him.

Nothing could constrain her

when she realized she had literally

been taken in by his story.

“If you were innocent,

why weren't you the defendant?

If you were innocent

all those years ago,

why did your agent

go to prison for you?

Why did it take so long for

your enemy to turn you in?

The statute of limitations

for that offence has expired.

I believe this has been

a pathetic attempt to get me

to mediate your case in the press.

I think you have always been

an integral player in

the criminal world and your past

has caught up with you.

My cardinal sin was allowing myself

to be reeled in by your tales

of what a model citizen you are.”

Kate could feel herself

getting dizzy and light-headed,

surprised by the audacity she had,

talking to anyone in that manner.

Before she lost complete control,

she would have to

get out of there.

She stood, turned, and

marched toward the door.

As she began to open

the front door, she looked back.

Victor stood beside his chair,

pale and shaken. “You admitted

you were a fraud in your youth.

You are still a fraud!

I will write your story...

my version! My guess is that

the eventual verdict will be‘guilty’!”