Sandy Jenkins was a shy, daydreaming accountant at the Collin Street Bakery, the world’s most famous fruitcake company.
He was tired of feeling invisible,
So he started stealing—and got a little carried away.
On most days, around 6:30, Sandy Jenkins would wake up without an alarm and linger for just a few minutes in silence.
This was one of the best parts of his day, a time when life seemed full of possibility.
He didn’t sketch out plans or set goals.
In those quiet moments, he would lie there and fantasize.
He imagined a life filled with travel and prestigious pursuits, scenes set to soaring arias or violins. Maybe he’d be stepping off a private plane, squinting into the distance at a mountain range; maybe he’d be strutting down a street in some exotic locale while people smiled deferentially.
He’d play those fantasies in his head until, at 6:35, he placed them on pause, for later.
One morning in December 2004, he slid his legs out of bed, petted his miniature dachshund, Maggie, and stumbled downstairs to make coffee; he preferred it strong and black and poured into a fine china cup...
...On most days, in the late morning, Sandy would kill time by glancing at the food coverage in the Dallas Morning News.
But that day, in December 2004, wasn’t like other days.
Just before lunch, as he sat with the computerized checkbook program open in front of him, he began to daydream again.
What if there were a quicker way to afford that Lexus?
He stared at his computer screen, at the blank spaces on the checks.
Didn’t he deserve better?
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