Mild mannered Jimmy Johnson awoke to a cold December morning on his parent’s couch. A tree had fallen on his old room a few months ago, but the insurance was stalling on repairs. Jimmy was average, five feet nine inches tall with dark hair and hazel eyes, he was not gifted with talent, but still a good and reliable person. Juggling art school and flipping burgers for years, his sleep deprivation had compounded into a half conscious awareness and the couch-bed wasn’t helping. Recently dropping out after years of struggling in art school he was left in debt and without a degree, but dropping out allowed him to begin a new career. With his new job he could afford his own place, but his parents had gone into debt to pay for his college tuition, he felt a duty to live with them and pay the rent. As tired as he was he was grateful to be healthy, have a new stable job and a fiancé. Half asleep, he put on his pants, one leg at a time, buckled his belt and drove to work. His new job? A postman for the USPS for his small remote town. The day and route began as usual, sorting, driving, and delivering, greeting residences who acknowledged him. Despite the frigid air and icy roads, their greetings warmed heart and raised his spirit. The local route took him through windy roads around hills, this was the most dangerous part of the job, because the vehicle had a poor turning radius. A sleep deprived driver on a windy and icy road was a recipe for disaster. While driving slowly he rounded the sharpest turn on his route and was met by a large deer jumping into the middle of the narrow road. Attempting to break, his vehicle skid, scraping the deer and spinning him out of control. Jimmy awoke in a daze, his head on the steering wheel, a ringing in his ear and blare of his honk. It had only been a few minutes since his accident and he had not been found. He examined his body from head to toe, nothing seemed to be broken. He got out of the vehicle to inspect the damage and call for a tow. Before he could complete his call he saw something that chilled him more than the temperature could. He had hit a man. The man was tall and with a thick beard lying unconscious on the other side of the road. Jimmy ran to him, ensured he was breathing and called an ambulance. A few days passed and the man was still in a coma and alone. Jimmy’s conscience ate him up inside, his family assured him it wasn’t his fault, but he felt responsible. No one claimed a missing person and in a small town this was odd. The man had no ID on him, the hospital waited for someone to report him missing, but no one did. The police were called in to scan his fingerprints, but to their astonishment he had none, they had been removed. This was alarming and prompted further investigation. The FBI were brought in and a detective immediately recognized and identified him as Charles Barker, a wanted criminal for multiple counts of bank robbing. Not for an act of heroism or stroke of luck, but for doing his job to the best of his ability, Jimmy was awarded $20,000 for the indirect capture of Charles Barker. With his reward Jimmy was able to pay off the remainder of his family’s debt and move into a home with his fiancé.