Transfer seemed a little suspicious

By JACK RONALD
The Commercial Review
The security camera footage has to look pretty suspicious.
I mean, there I am, in a maze-like underground parking facility in downtown Indianapolis. I walk over to one car. The trunk is popped open.
And I take out what looks like a small safe — roughly a 2-foot-by-2-foot-by-2-foot cube — out of the trunk.
The security footage probably shows me grimacing a bit about the safe’s hefty weight.
Then I carry it across the garage to my own car, its trunk already popped open, and deposit the heavy cube inside.
The security camera shows me muttering something to a curious parking attendant as I walk by. He’s giving me a look like he figures I’m up to no good.
But trust me, sometimes the camera lies.
That was no organized crime transfer of stolen bonds the parking attendant witnessed. It was just an old guy trying to do a good deed.
We were in downtown Indy to be on hand when our youngest daughter, Sally, was sworn in as a member of the Indiana Bar. It was, as you would guess, an incredibly proud and happy day for us as parents.
Several hundred people had gathered at the convention center in Indianapolis for what turned out to be a joint convening of the Indiana Supreme Court, the U.S. District Court for the Northern District and the U.S. District Court for the Southern District.
There were oaths, there were speeches and there were families beaming about the event.
But the day before the ceremony, Sally had called and asked us to do a favor.
One of her best friends had moved back to Portland because her husband had landed a very cool new job at Ball State University. They’d put their house in southern Indiana on the market and had moved in with family back here in Jay County. Most of the furnishings had been left in the house they were trying to sell, which seemed like a good idea because it’s easier to sell a house that looks lived in.
Except for one thing.
They also left behind a small, fireproof safe holding important legal documents like birth certificates that they needed in order to sign up for health insurance at Ball State.
So Sally’s friend had asked her if she could help, and Sally asked us if we could help. She picked up the fireproof safe and brought it to Indy, where I transferred it to the trunk of my car under the suspicious gaze of that parking attendant.
I would have tried to explain, but it just seemed too complicated. So when I passed him, I just muttered, “Kids,” and gave him a knowing shrug.
I don’t think he was convinced.
And if security footage surfaces from Fort Wayne this summer, I’ll have even more explaining to do.
The Fort Wayne footage shows my old buddy Steve Ogborn and me in a parking garage after a TinCaps game. He pops the trunk of his car and hands me a pair of steel briefcases that look like they were made either for the CIA or the Mafia. I put them in the trunk of my car, shake his hand and wave goodbye.
Obviously — based on the security footage — something illegal was going down. Money laundering maybe, or maybe a drug deal.
And no matter how many times I might try to explain that the steel briefcases held Donna Ogborn’s collection of Indiana wildflower slides and that I was merely transporting them to the Limberlost State Historic Site, I doubt that the authorities would buy it.
So for now, I think I’ll just keep my head down — and stay out of parking garages.[[In-content Ad]]