Once I graduated college, my life fell into a rut - my father's rut. The only way out of the rut was excitement. During the day, I worked with my dad at his insurance agency. He knew I was bored in the office and sent me to take photos of insurance losses. I also took pictures of expensive items that his clients insured. Once I saw the valuables and how carelessly they were kept, a seed began to grow in my mind. I fantasized about breaking in and taking the items.

It was like a romance, and I was intrigued enough to look for easy entry of the client's properties. I knew if they had dogs, security systems, and deadbolts. I learned their schedules as I cased their homes. Once the situation was right, I entered the homes and took what was insured. I didn't want to harm them physically or financially. I was drunk on adrenaline.

All the wrong things I did went against my upbringing. The crimes made me feel like I had a secret identity, like a comic book villain. The difference was that there was no super hero to catch me. I was the one who would follow my own crimes and help the victims with their claims. I was the good guy and the bad guy. At first I thought the expensive items interested me, but soon I realized it was the thrill of the narrow escape that had me hooked.