Clive,
How are you? By my reckoning, it has been exactly a year since we last talked. I am still working in Sydney. I have a few different things on the go at the moment. Actually, I just finished up one my longer jobs this morning. I was watching a claim who had supposedly injured his back shifting a 35 kg sack of flour on a loading dock. Apart from a few physio appointments, he was mainly staying at home while his wife went to work. Everything seemed legit. The guy looked genuinely injured but I had this gut feeling about him. I don't know...everything seemed too consistent. He always seemed 'on’ like he knew that he was being watched.
People aren't usually like that in the private moments of their lives. (You get to know this from years of experience. The difference. Sometimes you have to take a step back and look at the big picture because sometimes you can get lost in the details. Having said this, there were also moments when I thought that maybe I was giving this guy too much credit? Was he that smart? I couldn't decide.
A couple weeks ago, totally out of the blue, he gets in his car, drives across Sydney to this address on a quiet street. Nothing special about the house. He spends two hours there. I'm parked down the block, waiting. When he finally comes out, hobbling on his crutches, he gets back in his vehicle and takes off. This starts happening about four times a week. Always in the middle of the day. Always when his wife is at work.
One day I stick around after he takes off. Eventually, a blonde comes out of the house. Pretty good looking girl. Nice face, good body. Twenty-five years old. So about ten years younger than the guy with the herniated disc. But so what? What good does this information do me? As you well know we have to obey the law. No trespassing. No personal interference which could be classified as harassment.
Anyway, one afternoon I'm sitting there in my overheated shitbox of a car, junk food churning in my guts while this guy is fucking this chick and suddenly I get really tired. I mean really, really tired. I just knew this guy was never going to slip up in public. He was too cautious by nature.
So I got out of my car, crossed the street, crept down the side of the house and peered in the first window. Nothing. An empty room. However, in the second window along, the guy and the blonde are going at it. Is that back injury impeding his performance? I don't think so. This guy is having what looks like the best fuck of his life. He is hammering away like a champion, like a porn star, his crutches forgotten in the corner of the room. I got a couple of discrete snaps with my phone, went back to my car and left.
In the twenty years, I've been on the job, what I've learned about this business is that there are direct ways of dealing with people and there are indirect ways. One of the indirect ways is to destabilise a subject's life in some way so that they can't keep up their pretence. It's underhanded but so what? Is it any worse than scamming insurance companies? The tax payers? Not in my book it isn't.
Anyway, this is exactly what I did. I just walked up to the guy one day in the street. His wife was in a shop and he was waiting for her outside. I showed him the photograph on my phone and said either you stop fucking around with the crutches mate or these go to your wife. Very simple. He got angry with me as you would expect, said he was going to come looking for me. He tried to snatch the phone out of my hand but I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’d only just come off my plan. I just said, sure. Go ahead and track me down.
Next morning he withdrew his claim. And that was it: the end of the case. Come looking for me? I've heard that before. This guy wasn't tough. He worked in a bakery. He made muffins for god-sakes.
Anyway, it wasn't entirely ethical but you know how it is. You gotta take the opportunities that come your way. You'd be a bloody idiot not to.
This is pretty much all I do these days: insurance cases. You were right to get out Clive. You’re smart because you understand what this kind of life is really about. How, over the years, it makes you invisible. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You can't afford to stand out. You end up living alone, working alone. You don't form personal connections. You are just passing through other people's lives on the peripheral. And that is the way it has to be. It's all I know.
Anyway, I'm just saying it's good that you got out. If you're ever in Sydney again and you need a place to stay or anything, call me.
Kevin Graves.
How are you? By my reckoning, it has been exactly a year since we last talked. I am still working in Sydney. I have a few different things on the go at the moment. Actually, I just finished up one my longer jobs this morning. I was watching a claim who had supposedly injured his back shifting a 35 kg sack of flour on a loading dock. Apart from a few physio appointments, he was mainly staying at home while his wife went to work. Everything seemed legit. The guy looked genuinely injured but I had this gut feeling about him. I don't know...everything seemed too consistent. He always seemed 'on’ like he knew that he was being watched.
People aren't usually like that in the private moments of their lives. (You get to know this from years of experience. The difference. Sometimes you have to take a step back and look at the big picture because sometimes you can get lost in the details. Having said this, there were also moments when I thought that maybe I was giving this guy too much credit? Was he that smart? I couldn't decide.
A couple weeks ago, totally out of the blue, he gets in his car, drives across Sydney to this address on a quiet street. Nothing special about the house. He spends two hours there. I'm parked down the block, waiting. When he finally comes out, hobbling on his crutches, he gets back in his vehicle and takes off. This starts happening about four times a week. Always in the middle of the day. Always when his wife is at work.
One day I stick around after he takes off. Eventually, a blonde comes out of the house. Pretty good looking girl. Nice face, good body. Twenty-five years old. So about ten years younger than the guy with the herniated disc. But so what? What good does this information do me? As you well know we have to obey the law. No trespassing. No personal interference which could be classified as harassment.
Anyway, one afternoon I'm sitting there in my overheated shitbox of a car, junk food churning in my guts while this guy is fucking this chick and suddenly I get really tired. I mean really, really tired. I just knew this guy was never going to slip up in public. He was too cautious by nature.
So I got out of my car, crossed the street, crept down the side of the house and peered in the first window. Nothing. An empty room. However, in the second window along, the guy and the blonde are going at it. Is that back injury impeding his performance? I don't think so. This guy is having what looks like the best fuck of his life. He is hammering away like a champion, like a porn star, his crutches forgotten in the corner of the room. I got a couple of discrete snaps with my phone, went back to my car and left.
In the twenty years, I've been on the job, what I've learned about this business is that there are direct ways of dealing with people and there are indirect ways. One of the indirect ways is to destabilise a subject's life in some way so that they can't keep up their pretence. It's underhanded but so what? Is it any worse than scamming insurance companies? The tax payers? Not in my book it isn't.
Anyway, this is exactly what I did. I just walked up to the guy one day in the street. His wife was in a shop and he was waiting for her outside. I showed him the photograph on my phone and said either you stop fucking around with the crutches mate or these go to your wife. Very simple. He got angry with me as you would expect, said he was going to come looking for me. He tried to snatch the phone out of my hand but I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’d only just come off my plan. I just said, sure. Go ahead and track me down.
Next morning he withdrew his claim. And that was it: the end of the case. Come looking for me? I've heard that before. This guy wasn't tough. He worked in a bakery. He made muffins for god-sakes.
Anyway, it wasn't entirely ethical but you know how it is. You gotta take the opportunities that come your way. You'd be a bloody idiot not to.
This is pretty much all I do these days: insurance cases. You were right to get out Clive. You’re smart because you understand what this kind of life is really about. How, over the years, it makes you invisible. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You can't afford to stand out. You end up living alone, working alone. You don't form personal connections. You are just passing through other people's lives on the peripheral. And that is the way it has to be. It's all I know.
Anyway, I'm just saying it's good that you got out. If you're ever in Sydney again and you need a place to stay or anything, call me.
Kevin Graves.
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