You Never Really Know Someone

You never really know someone, as this true story will illustrate. My step-brother had been divorced and re-married. He married a woman by the name of Marge. Marge had been previously married as well and had grown children and even grandchildren. Prior to she and my step-brother getting married, Marge had job and a house of her own. She sold her house when she and my step brother were married. They had been married for ten years or more and I had met Marge on several occasions. She seemed like a perfectly normal grandmother of nearly 60. There was no sign she lived another life.

One day Marge announced that she had made plans to visit her son, a police officer, who lived in Minnesota. There seemed to be nothing unusual about that as she had done this before, but probably not as often as she would have liked. She made plans in the typical way and when she arrived in Minnesota she rented a car as travelers often do.

The first thing she did after getting her car was to go and rob a bank. She wore a big sun hat and glasses and pulled into the drive through. She handed the teller a threatening note, stating that if she were not given money, it would be “curtains” for everyone. She was given a bag full of money. The ironic thing is that my step-brother owned a curtain and drapes business.

I am not sure why, perhaps she did not get as much money as she hoped, but about 30 minutes later she robbed another bank. The cops get angry when you rob one bank, but they go totally mad if you rob more than one in the same day. Furthermore, they are more prepared. It wasn’t long afterwards that Marge was caught.

In the car, they found the hat and glasses and photocopies of the note she used. They also found the money of course. It seemed to be a clear cut case.

Since robbing a bank is a federal offense, the FBI became involved. When things like this happen, they assume that it didn’t happen out of the blue and that there had to be more cases, so they began looking at unsolved robberies by apparently older women in the greater area in which my step brother and Marge lived. It turned out that there had been a string of such hold-ups and that the police had nicknamed the culprit the “Grandmother Bandit”. All told, they discovered that she had likely robbed 7 banks in three different states, several convenience stores and a Cracker Barrel restaurant.

At first Marge pled not guilty, but later changed her plea to guilty. She never explained why she did what she did, not to the police and not to my step brother; not to anyone.

Marge has served 5 years in federal prison. My family stays in regular contact with letters and cards and such and she writes back often. She seems to have had good spirits throughout her time in prison and she even got a job and helped tutor the other prisoners. She said that prison wasn’t so bad.

To this day, the whole thing remains a mystery. While my family has remained in touch, they never mention what happened and neither does Marge. She is due to be released this year. It will be interesting to see what happens then.

In the end, you wonder why a woman of nearly 60, a mother and a grandmother, with a nice home, solid income and a faithful husband would suddenly take up robbery. If so, why? Why then? Did she need money to support a lifestyle she couldn’t afford?. Was it the thrill? Or had she been doing this for years, right under my step brothers nose, and was only just caught with several crimes still unsolved which are attributable to her? We’ll never know. Marge isn’t telling. The one thing we can know for sure is that you can never really know another person.