To listen to Rick’s column, click here:  Download NefariousNanny.mp3

About a year ago, I filed felony theft charges against one of the last people I ever thought would steal from us—our children’s primary babysitter. Jill (not her real name), a college student, worked for us for three years. She stayed with the children several times when my wife and I were out of town. She was a trusted employee who became a family friend.

Everything was fine until we began missing cash from my wife’s purse and from the spending money I kept hidden in the house. We weren’t leaving cash around in plain sight; someone had to be searching systematically for it. We started an investigation, including setting up a surveillance camera, and before long we caught our thief in the act. My wife and I were dumbfounded that the culprit was Jill.

We were even more shocked when we reviewed Jill’s time sheets. She submitted them to one of my staff members who made out checks, and we hadn’t been checking them because we trusted Jill. We learned she had been overstating her hours by four times.

At first we were tempted to just confront Jill, get as much money back as possible, and let her go. Because we had known and trusted her for several years, it was hard to consider turning her over to the police. Maybe just being caught, we rationalized, would teach her a lesson.

Finally, though, we decided we needed to press charges. This was no impulsive, petty theft, but systematic robbery of significant amounts from people who trusted her implicitly.

I also remembered the experience of a friend who had discovered a trusted employee was embezzling from his business. He found out later that she had done the same thing earlier in a previous job. That employer had chosen not to press charges, but had let her go after she reimbursed what she had stolen. Instead of learning from the first experience not to steal, she was merely released to go and steal from a new employer.

This story reinforced the position that it would be wrong to let Jill get by without serious consequences for her theft. It became clear that we would be doing no favors—either for her or for her possible future victims—by failing to hold her accountable for her actions.

When we confronted Jill, she admitted she had been stealing from us. She had no explanation for her behavior other than to say she realized she had a problem and had no clue why she stole. I gave her the name of the detective I had previously talked to, and she agreed to turn herself in. When she did, she confessed to stealing around $2,000 in cash. In actuality, it was many times more than that.

It took over a year for Jill to finally agree to a plea bargain and plead guilty to the felony charges. At a recent hearing, the judge sentenced her to 10 years in the penitentiary, suspended her incarceration and put her on probation for 10 years. She will serve 90 days in the county jail on work release, pay a $1000 fine plus court costs, go to counseling and do community service. She will also have to make restitution, in an amount to be set at an upcoming hearing.

My wife and I are relieved that the case has finally been heard. Yet it doesn’t feel "over." This whole incident has left us feeling sad, angry, and confused. We still struggle with the reality that someone we regarded as a friend could betray us so badly.