Redditors: Immigrants Keep Kidnapping My Wife!!

r/Advice
u/Skinny_Kyle_82381
Uncomfortable Immigrant Situation

Immigrants keep taking my wife for up to twenty-four hours, and no one is helping! Police won’t do anything. I’m asking this community for advice on this situation!! I feel powerless! She’s the mother of my children, and she keeps getting kidnapped! Please help me end this nightmare!!

The most recent example: last night, my wife got called in to her real-estate job for an all-nighter, which anyone who knows the real-estate game will tell you is fairly common. So she put on a dress and lipstick and started walking to her office. But then I noticed a red flag: a Mini Cooper pulled up down the block, and she got in the passenger side! I was able to get a decent look at the driver, and, sure enough, he was an illegal immigrant!! My stomach filled with acid!

I have a knack for detective work for a reason that, legally, we shouldn’t go into, so I knew that I should do a Find My Phone on her phone. I drove to where it indicated she was, which turned out to be an Indian restaurant.

The immigrant had taken her to her favorite restaurant! Was this a death-row last-meal thing? Or, worse, would he make her eat ten entrées and then she’d be “Gluttony” in his series of seven-deadly-sins killings!?! I stared at him through the window as he cackled with laughter, rolling his eyes back like a shark.

I know what you may be thinking. And, yes, I acknowledge that it’s entirely possible that the whole thing was just him messing with my head. That he chose that specific restaurant because he knew that I hate Indian food and refuse to go there. And perhaps he even knew that that was one of our biggest fights. He was sticking it to me.

It’s possible that this illegal son of a bitch had bugged my house and had been listening to every word I’d said for months, and he was now going to take my wife to do all the things I don’t like doing, until I go insane.

After dinner, he drove her to the river. He made quick, unexpected turns in an unsuccessful attempt to shake me. I’d learned to track people because of a private situation that forced me to develop excellent manhunt skills.

They ate cotton candy and sat on a bench. The illegal pointed to the water, likely showing her where he was going to drown her. But she just laughed in his face! I felt so proud of her. She probably said something like “You’ll never drown me in that river, you dirty immigrant! Women in our country are strong and read books and have strong husbands who protect us. The clock is ticking on your sick and twisted time on this planet!”

The guy smiled at that, probably not understanding a goddam word. Then he decided that it was time to leave. Maybe he sensed that I was watching and that he couldn’t go through with the final sacrifice or something.

This time, he was able to lose me, using a nasty gang trick where you turn left just as a light turns red. I’d thought I’d become impossible to shake, for reasons I won’t go into. . . . Fine, full disclosure: I’d had to develop reconnaissance skills when I was gathering intel for my unlawful-termination suit against Best Buy after my Asian boss fired me basically just for being white and peeing in a dryer.

Anyway, the next morning, I woke to find that I had clearly scared him enough that he’d delivered my wife back to my doorstep at dawn and had not completed his evil task.

She came upstairs and crawled into bed and spooned me from behind, complaining about real-estate hours. But the immigrant had gotten sloppy and had dropped her off in a “There’s no crying in pickleball” T-shirt he’d probably tossed at her after hours of torture.

It felt nice to have her warm body pushed against mine, but I knew it was time for a difficult conversation.

“I know you’re lying,” I said, once she’d finished talking about work. “I know that, once a week, an immigrant kidnaps you and shows you where he’s going to drown you.”

There was a long pause, and then she said, “You’re right. And the deal is, he won’t sell me to the cartels if we just keep cool about it.”

Then she went back to spooning me and rubbing my belly, which was making a lot of noises. And I couldn’t help but think, I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on earth.

So . . . you can see my dilemma. I don’t like having her go off with a human-trafficking illegal once a week, but if I rock the boat he might speed up his timeline and sell her now!

DELICATE SITUATION!! ADVICE?? ♦