This story is appearing in the mainstream press, rather than the National Enquirer, your usual market for this type of sordid yarn. It seems to you a topic that appeals to a wider audience than the usual bored shopper, standing in the grocery check-out line. It has all the seedy elements of a soap opera.

The story is about money. Most stories are these days. Usually with one or more elements tagging along-power and money, violence and money, and of course sex and money.

Who doesn't think about money from time to time? Occasionally you drift off into a fantasy, while watching a TV show about rich men and women, who always get what they want. They consort with powerful and influential people, who treat them as equals. You think about the lottery ticket in your wallet and give yourself permission to fantasize about winning.

You day dream about owning a BMW, flying to Rio de Janeiro for the weekend or buying the family your dream home, with four baths, a six car garage and a guest house behind the pool where you can escape, to be by yourself.

Other days the boss is on your back and the car won't start.  You imagine the personal power a few million dollars would bring. The respect you'd get. You imagine buying the company and demoting your boss to the janitorial department.

You think about your old friend Bob, who recently won $30 million. There are all sorts of bizarre stories floating around about Bob. You phone his parents, to see if you can track him down and find out the story behind the story.

From experience you know that what you've read in the papers and seen on TV is only part of the truth-the residue that has filtered through the journalistic cheesecloth.

Bob's dad answers the phone. "Who is this?" he barks. You tell him your name. "I went to school with Bob," you say just to jog his memory.

You hear him talking to his wife in the background and realize the stress has eroded his normal Old World politeness. "It's that reporter friend of Bob's," you hear him growl at her.

You yell into the phone, hoping he'll hear you. "I'm not a reporter," you try to tell him. "I'm a columnist." The subtle difference between the two will mean little to Bob's dad.

A reporter you want to say gathers information and organizes it to resemble truthful facts. Columnists deal in innuendo, hearsay and conjecture. To you, journalistic objectivity is merely a hypothetical possibility.

You go over what you know so far. Bob cashed in a winning lottery ticket for $30 million, then blew out of town leaving friends and loved ones shaking their heads.

It was a good story and certainly one that warranted a picture in the local press. What made it interesting was that apparently he'd known for a year that he had the winning ticket and waited until it was about to expire before collecting his money. In a quote before he disappeared Bob told reporters that he wanted to take his time and not do anything rash.

Bob's mom comes on the phone. At first she's reluctant to talk. The press has been nipping at her heals all week-hounding her relentlessly. TV cameras at the door-reporters calling from all over the world, at all hours of the day and night.

"It's been awful," she tells you. It takes a few minutes of small talk to soften her up. Then she tells you, "Bob's not here. We don't really know where he is," she says. You can tell by her voice that she's telling the truth.

Next you call Bob's wife Nancy. Last time you heard they were separated and she was supporting her children alone. In the paper Bob claimed to be single. Nancy says they're still married although he moved out a few months ago and he hasn't been giving here anything to support the kids.

"We made love the day he cashed in his ticket," she tells you. "He didn't even mention the money. Then he just disappeared!" It's been a rough year for her and her children. She's been out of work and the kids have suffered. "It really hurts," she tells you. "What's Bob thinking?"

Nancy stops crying and then becomes angry as she tells you how unfair it is. She's talked to a lawyer she says. The lawyer says half the money belongs to her and the kids.

Bob has another ex-wife with kids he's fathered, and at least one current girlfriend who's surfaced. They all have lawyer and they're all fighting mad.

So that's what it comes down to, for the guy who wanted to take his time and not make any mistakes. The whole things all balled up and everyone who ever claimed to love him is mad as hell, and ready to sue his butt off.

Will Bob come back home and do the right thing? You can only wonder. With Bob's track recorder the betting crowd is leaning towards the negative. Where Bob is there's bounded to be another woman and another screw up they say. That's just the kind of guy he is.

XXX