A Boy falls in love with a Girl. Let’s call them Paul and Denise. Paul is smitten and in love. Wouldn’t you be, if your girl looked like Denise? She is a glamour model. We are talking maximum constitutionally allowed number of Ds in her breast size!
Paul is dreaming of marriage and children. Denise finally agrees to meet him. What? Well, yes, they’ve never met in person, but Paul has her image on his monitor screen all the time!
He’d never seen a woman in the flesh! He’d never even heard her voice! What a dumbass… Aha! Must be one of those stories! The boy is probably underage… The internet… the cougar-vamp… No?
Denise is at a photo-shoot in La Paz, Bolivia. Long way, baby, but, what the hell, come and join me!
All fired up, Paul is packing up and ready to go. He’d fly to Bolivia, meet Denise, bring her back to North Carolina and, god help them, they’d start a life together — the forever kind of life, kids and all. Unfortunately, Paul cannot leave his job for very long – no more than a few days, he has to teach, you see. Oh, yes, the Boy has a job. He is a professor of physics at the University of North Carolina. As a matter of fact, he had been one for the last 30 years. Which is no surprise — Paul is 68.
By his own admission, Oxford educated, titled and honored for his contribution to his field (a particle physics phenomenology), Distinguished Professor of physics and astronomy, Paul Frampton, is also endowed with certain character peculiarities. For once, he has colossal ego. The history of science in general, and physics in particular, has known a great number of no lesser minds in possession of greater modesty. “Well, I have been accused of having a huge ego,” are Paul’s own words.
Divorced, he was looking for a wife, hoping to find a woman between 18 and 35 — whose physical looks would closely match his physicist’s brains. About Denise in the interview: “…to start with, she’s in the top 1 percentile of how women look.” In an email to Denise he wrote, “… I realize that we are the perfect couple in all respects.”
Toronto, Santiago, Chile, La Paz, Bolivia. There, and not without setbacks. That is, Paul is there, but Denise is not. She was urgently called away to Brussels. Another photo-shoot. No wonder, with the body like hers! Jesus Christ!
She arranges for him to fly to Buenos Aires, Argentina. He should wait there for a ticket to Brussels. And, by the way, wouldn’t it be a terrible inconvenience if he’d bring along a bag she carelessly left behind?
Dum de dum dum… Now we can guess where exactly all of this is going, don’t we? Remember the airport security warnings about packing your own bags, no?
Someone whose face Paul couldn’t see in the dark – the transaction took place on the unlit street in front of the hotel – hands him a black bag. It’s a stock variety, not some fancy item Paul would expect Denise to have. It has a tremendous sentimental value to her, Denise assures in an email. The bag is empty.
Paul’s friend, a physicist and a lawyer, learns about the suitcase from the exchange of emails with Paul. He warns Paul that he might’ve stepped into a deep doo-doo, given his present situation, the events that preceded it, and the direction the story might turn next.
Paul shrugs off the warnings as melodramatic. He rarely paid attention to the opinions of others before and has no inkling to change his ways now…
Away from home for 15 days already, Paul finds himself stuck at the Buenos Aires airport with 2 suitcases, one of which is Denise’s, by now filled with his dirty clothing. It’s time to head home and report for work. He decides to abandon the chase of his Fire Bird for the time being — after all, she might come to North Carolina on her own… to retrieve her bag. After all, it has a sentimental value to her.
Argentinian authorities arrested Paul Frampton at the Buenos Aires Ezeiza airport as he was boarding a flight to Raleigh. 2 kilos of cocaine was recovered from the secret compartment of Denise’s suitcase.
On 19 November, 2012, in Argentina, Paul Frampton, professor with aspirations for a Nobel Prize in physics, was sentenced to four years and eight months for drug smuggling.
What a terrible story! Aha! He must be — and, undoubtedly, he is! — simply one of those geniuses, superb in science but total and complete idiot-savants in everything else, easily deceived, duped and confused… No?
Paul’s ex-wife, whom he married at the age of 50 and divorced a decade later, admitted that although genius in science, Paul lingers in the emotional age of a three-year-old. Here we go! Exactly!
However… there is always that annoying however…
Frampton’s defense – [claiming] that he was duped because he had a childlike understanding of the ways of the world – began to unravel. The prosecutor opened his cross-examination by citing a text message retrieved from Frampton’s confiscated phone.
On 22 January at 9.46am,” he said, “you wrote from Ezeiza airport to the person you understood to be Denise: Was worried only about sniffer dogs but more.
As his interrogation continued, he read other text messages sent from Frampton’s phone. One at 9.52am: Need to know if your loyalty is with the bad guy-agent & bolivian friends – or good guy, your husband? And another at 9.56am: SIRU [the Hotel Siru, where they were planning to meet in Brussels] “IS AMBUSH. 10.14am: Your naivety is bad for me, us. This is millions. NO SIRU, OK? At 11.19am, Frampton sent Denise an email: This stuff is worth nothing in Bolivia, but $Ms in Europe. You meet me at the airport and we do not go near the hotel the ‘agent’ suggested. Stay at another hotel. At 11.47am, there was another text message: Monday arrival changed. You must not tell the coca-goons. At 12.16 pm, Frampton wrote: WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME? AT THIS LAST MOMENT. WE DID NOT DECIDE HOW TO MEET TOMORROW IN BRUSSELS AND KEEP COCA & LIVES. AT SIRU WE MAY LOSE BOTH!! At 1.06pm: We may do cool 1,000,000. (Maxine Swann The physicist, the glamour model and the suitcase of cocaine)
What about the beautiful Denise, a girl of Paul Frampton’s dreams? There is, indeed, a woman by this name (Denise Milani) and this body somewhere in the world. It came as shock to her that her identity was used in a drug trafficking scam and, naturally, she is extremely distressed over the whole situation and concerned for her own and her son’s safety.
This story, as told at length by Maxine Swann, who made a trip to Argentina and met with hapless professor, amused me a great deal. As I read it, my thinking was constantly shifting from one Aha! to another, and every Aha! that followed seem to have totally negated the previous one. Happens… And when it does, it’s really worthy of note.
Speaking of foreign travel, take a look at my Smile page. There is a new item there — a slide show of celebrity passports… John Lennon looks like an insurance salesman, Marilyn Monroe — your local grocery store clerk, Katharine Hepburn — a tired housewife. Ernest Hemingway, surprisingly, looks better than on his publicity photos and Albert Einstein… well, he looks exactly like Albert Einstein.