A Life Wasted

Federal Time

The coin show was in a Holiday Inn in a Detroit suburb. It was a small show, but a good one so I was doing a brisk business. I was just about to pack up and head home when a pair of police detectives walked up to my table and badged me. They asked for ID and a few basic questions before they explained that another dealer at the show had bought a National Bank Note from me that had been part of a stolen shipment from Dallas. Their questions drew everyone's attention, particularly that of a coin dealer that I knew by name as I'd done business with him around the country. To my surprise he pulled out a badge, which he showed to the two detectives. Turned out he was a Lieutenant with the Michigan State Troopers who did the coin show circuit as a weekend hobby. This was a shock as I had no idea this guy was a cop. But what shocked me more is that he stuck up for me with the police detectives. The coin dealer/State Trooper explained that he knew me and had seen me at many coin shows. When they explained about the stolen National Bank Note the State Trooper said that wasn't unusual, that since we all bought and sold coins and currency at shows it happened to everyone, that it had happened to him.

I'd nearly gotten through the event when one of the detectives stepped away to make a phone call. He still had my driver's licenses so he called his dispatcher to run a check on me. What I didn't know was that I had missed a court date in Ohio for that robbery/theft charge, so a warrant had been issued for my arrest. This ended all discussion with my arrest.

The FBI got involved, found my van and searched it. In the van they found more of "my" coin collection and a .38 revolver. Another thing I didn't realize was that as a convicted felon, possession of a firearm was a federal offense. When the FBI told me they found the van and were charging me with the gun. My prints weren't on the gun so they asked if it was mine. Thinking I was clever I said no, it was my wife's. The FBI agent smiled and said, "Okay, but if the gun was her's then so is the stolen goods we found next to the gun." His logic was good enough to get me to confess to the whole thing.

This involved another painful phone call to Mary. She probably remembers that phone call, but I don't. Some things are simply too painful for me to remember. The feds didn't charge me at first, but sent me back to that small jail in Ohio. There they offered me probation if I plead guilty to "Attempt," which is a strange charge, but I agreed. Not everything goes as you plan in court. Rather than give me probation as promised I was sentenced to 4-10 years in an Ohio prison and sent to a place called the "London Correctional Institute".

It had been 10 years since my last prison time. Not much had changed and I didn't like it any better than I had before. Ohio still hadn't put together my escape record so they'd put me in a medium security prison. I figured out how to get out of that place about two hours after arriving, but immediately put the thought out of my mind. I was putting Mary through too much as it was, I wasn't going to put her through having to worry about me on the run.

Mary was understandably pretty up set with me. A part of it was the news that she was pregnant. Seven months and three weeks after my arrest our ninth child was born. Miriam Hope Waagner. After Hope was born Mary brought her for me to see. I knew my wife had forgiven me when I saw her in the prison visiting room. She was wearing her wedding dress. That's my wife, declaring her love in such a way that even a heartless fool like myself couldn't miss her meaning. And as a side note, the dress still fit her and she looked good in it. That's quite a feat after nine children and the hard life of being my wife, but that's Mary. She's in a class of her own.

As a side note, that little baby girl is now twenty-four years old and just had her first baby in August 2016. This is a warm reminder to me, that no matter how badly I have messed up, my wonderful family keeps moving forward and building a future. Joshua David is my fifteenth grandchild.

Less than two years in the Ohio prison I'd made friends with a jail-house-lawyer and I happened to mention what happened in court. That I was promised probation if I plead guilty and was then given 4-10 years. He told me I could get my sentence changed if I challenged it, but I wasn't interested. I knew nothing about the law and had little confidence that the same judge who violated my plea agreement would now end my sentence, so I told the guy no thanks. He was sympathetic to my family situation so he researched my case then wrote and typed a motion without telling me. One day he handed me some papers and said to sign it. I started to read it but he said, "Just sign the damn thing, you don't understand any of it." Which was true, I was ignorant to the law. So I signed it and he put in an envelope with stamps already on it and dropped it in the mail box.

A month later I was back in the same Ohio Court that sentenced me. The judge suspended my sentence and my Ohio prison time was over. I was turned over to the United States Marshals, taken back to Detroit and given a 52 month sentence for being a "Convicted Felon in Possession of a Firearm."