I was sorry to hear that Joel had died. He was a past fast-food coworker of mine that became somewhat of a friend. He had asked me whether he could store some things in my garage for a few months. I was reluctant, but he offered to pay rent for using the space, and he sounded desperate. Although I hadn’t heard from Joel for quite a while and hated losing the garage space, the extra money would come in handy, and I felt good about helping him out. Joel then moved furniture, boxes, tools, and miscellaneous items into the space I allotted to him.
It was around four months later that Joel died in some kind of gang-related shooting. I felt bad about Joel’s passing but also wondered what I should do with the guy’s stuff. I didn’t know any of Joel’s family members but figured that someone would want his things. Plus, I simply wanted the stuff out since there wouldn’t be any more rent payments and I looked forward to using that part of the garage as workshop space. Therefore, I found Joel’s obituary online and dropped in on the Celebration-of-Life hoping to persuade a relative of his to move his things out of my garage. While there, I met Joel’s brother who agreed to come by and pick up the stuff. The guy dropped by as promised but only took the more useful items and suggested that I put the rest out at the curb on bulk pickup day.
It was while moving Joel’s stuff out for pick up that I found a surprisingly heavy shoebox in a beat-up end table in the very back corner. When I opened the box, I found it filled with cash – stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills that added up to $50,000 dollars, to be exact.
“Holly shit,” I exclaimed aloud. The unplanned windfall left me excited but very uneasy. I finished hauling the stuff to the curb and then hid the shoebox and money in my bedroom closet.
The money was almost constantly on my mind afterwards. I knew I could really use it towards a new car or house downpayment, but it stressed me out even thinking about having it. I had always tried to live my life aboveboard but knew from books and movies that you can’t simply make big cash deposits or purchases without alerting the Feds. Plus, gang members could show up anytime looking for the money. It heightened that concern when I saw that Joel’s brother was murdered. Oh shit, oh shit, what if he talked before he died? Does the gang know Joel stored his things here?
Over the next several years I was constantly stressing and watching over my shoulder wondering if gang members or the FBI were coming for the money. Worrying about it upset my stomach, made me throw up a lot, and made it hard to sleep at night.
I never ended up spending any of the shoebox money. I finally decided, the hell with it, and burned it all in my fireplace. I never got to buy a house or a brand-new car, but I’ve felt so much better.