Unlawful Search

I need someone to give me an honest answer, so when I saw your column in the paper, I thought maybe I can unload what I have on my mind. I live in a small community and work for my father. Several weeks ago I was looking for change to purchase water for the crew, and I know my dad keeps loose change in his desk. As I was looking, I saw a notebook.

I know it was none of my business, but what I discovered was a listing of dates and money paid, with some initials and remarks written beside the money amounts. As I was going downtown I tried to figure out what it all meant. Then it came to me. He was having an affair. I couldn't believe it, so when I returned to work I photocopied the book and took it home to try to figure it out.

Ever since I've had a sick feeling, can't sleep, and can't even look at him anymore. My parents have been married for 39 years, and from what I figure, he's been paying for sex for seven of those years. My mother would never discover this because she doesn't drive and him being late has been a way of life for as long as I can remember.

She is a stay-at-home wife who waits for him, cleans for him, and always has a hot meal waiting for him no matter what. She has sacrificed her life for him, and for what? A cheating husband?

Do I say anything to my Dad? I would never say anything to my mother because I know it would devastate her. My point is I have information that could change my family forever, and a time bomb waiting to happen when and if his mistress decides to spill the beans.

Vesta

Vesta, when someone is being hurt by a cheater, we typically say go ahead and tell. But our usual advice doesn't apply here for three reasons. You may be misinterpreting the notations in the notebook; you won't tell your mother under any circumstances; and after seven years this time bomb is likely to be a dud.

Sometimes the law embodies a wisdom which can be applied to daily life, and that is the case here. You invaded your father's privacy when you searched his desk. One legal principle which applies to searches is called the elephant in the matchbox. It means if the police are looking for an elephant, they can't look for it in your matchbox. You had no reason to look for coins in your father's notebook and no right to photocopy what you found.

Another principle of law--one which applies to evidence--is called the fruit of a poisonous tree. That principle says evidence gained through an illegal search can't be used in court. Since the tree is poisoned, all its fruit is tainted.

What you did is akin to sneaking a look at a diary, peeping into a bathroom stall, or using a pinhole camera to photograph a woman on a tanning bed. It wasn't an honorable act. Although we may find spies useful, we seldom find them honorable.

Perhaps the best thing you can do is examine your own motivation. You mention your long-suffering mother, but we suspect there may also be a long-suffering daughter who sees this as an opportunity to settle an old score with her father. If that is the case, using this information is not the way to do it.

A character in a Stephen King novel says, “Peek not through keyholes, lest ye be vexed.” You did something you should not have done, and vexation is the price for having done it. Keep this information to yourself. If you have issues with your father and employer, then address them directly without using this information to gain the upper hand.

Wayne & Tamara

Wayne & Tamara are the authors of Cheating in a Nutshell and The Young Woman’s Guide to Older Men—available from Amazon, iTunes, and booksellers everywhere.