Ken was a nice guy. You’ll never meet anyone nicer.

Dick was less so.

Ken could be naïve.

Dick was quick to take note of Ken’s naivete.

They were sitting together at a bar in Sitka. Dick was chairman of a board of which Ken was a director. Dick had scheduled the board to meet in Sitka. Ken was new to Alaska and had arrived early. He thought it would be a good idea to have time to get to know Dick.

It was now time for the flight to land on which the other directors were traveling.

“Shouldn’t we drive out to meet the plane?” Ken asked.

“No, I’m not going,” Dick replied. “But you can take my car if you want to.”

Sitka is a small town on Baranof Island in Southeast Alaska. It’s set in the midst of spectacular scenery. Ken was driving happily along toward the airport, his head swiveling as he took in the view. He was enjoying himself.

Right up until he saw the flashing lights of the police car behind him.

“Good afternoon, officer,” Ken said in his friendliest tone. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Get out of the car, sir,” the policeman said, his hand resting menacingly on the Model 1911 semiautomatic on his hip.

Ken opened the car door and, with nerves on edge, stepped out of the vehicle.

“Turn around, sir, and put your hands on the car,” the cop ordered.

This was not a position with which Ken was familiar.

“What’s going on, officer,” he asked in a slightly trembling voice.

“This car has been reported stolen,” the cop said as he snapped the handcuffs on.

“There must be some mistake, officer.”

“Yes, there is,” the cop said, “and you made it.”

Within a few minutes, Ken found himself alone in a cell in the Sitka jail. He had never been in a jail before, much less as a prisoner. He was finding it hard to believe this was happening.

Fortunately, his fear turned to relief when the door to the cell block opened to admit Dick along with the arresting officer. They stopped in front of Ken’s cell. Ken thought his trouble was over.

“I’ve never seen this man before in my life,” Dick said.

Dick and the cop left, leaving a stunned, disbelieving Ken staring after them.

The cop returned within a few minutes.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the cell door. “The judge is waiting.”

“The judge?” Ken stammered.

“We don’t mess around in Sitka, sir,” the cop said. “We deal with crime quickly.”

“But there’s been a mistake…” the disbelieving Ken repeated.

“So you’ve said.”

The judge, appearing much the savant in his judicial robe, waited in the courtroom. Dick sat at the prosecution table. There was no one on the defense side of the room.

“You stand charged with grand theft auto,” the judge said. “Dick has made a statement to the court. You have said it’s a mistake. Do you have anything to add?”

“But, your honor, it really is a mistake!”

“If you have nothing to add, I find you guilty,” the judge announced as he rapped his gavel on its block.

Ken was now beyond disbelief.

The judge smiled.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said. “Have you met Sitka’s police commissioner?”

He pointed his gavel at Dick as he made the introduction.

“I sentence you to time served and fine you the cost of drinks at the Moose Lodge,” the judge announced.

“But, your honor, I’m not a member of the Moose Lodge,” a thoroughly confused, though relieved, Ken said.

“The rest of us are,” the judge said, “and for today, so are you. At least until you run out of money.”

“Welcome to Sitka,” Dick said.