I know a person who actually was in a witness protection program.
He worked for a financial institution, and apparently some swindling was going on in the background. It showed up in an audit, and my friend was served with a subpoena to testify in court.
That’s when, in the middle of the night, a couple of guys kicked in his apartment door, shoved the business end of a gun between his eyes, and told him that if he testified, they would come back and pull the trigger.
After they left, he called the police.
The police called the FBI.
The FBI agents told him to pack a suitcase, that he was moving out immediately and going into witness protection.
Within a day they had found him a new apartment and moved his belongings there. He was told not to contact anyone he knew, neither friends nor family. An FBI agent moved into the apartment in order to protect him.
My friend couldn’t believe this was happening. He knew only a tiny piece of what was a complicated jigsaw puzzle in the embezzlement case. But, apparently, it was a pertinent piece.
It took my husband and I a while to realize our friend had dropped off the radar. He wouldn’t return our phone calls, and after talking to some other friends, we realized he wasn’t getting in contact with them either.
Then, one day, out of the blue, he called me.
He said he was okay but couldn’t tell me what was going on. He said he had snuck a cell phone down to the laundry room and that’s how he could phone me.
Like a soldier on a foreign battlefield, he was hungry for news from home. I filled him in on the latest in our lives.
Meanwhile, as I later found out, he wasn’t allowed to get a job because those who were threatening his life might find him that way. He was stuck in an apartment with nothing to do for month after month as the case dragged through the legal system. Worse, since he couldn’t work, the expenses of living were eating up his life savings.
And, after everything my friend went through, the District Attorney dropped the charges.
For all I know, threats were made to other individuals subpoenaed to testify, and they caved in—resulting in the lack of enough evidence to prosecute.
Whatever the reason, it freed my friend to get out of witness protection and go back to his life.
I consider my friend a martyr.
The word “martyr” means “witness.” Having the guts to stand up and tell the truth when threatened isn’t easy. In some ways a daily martyrdom like that is even tougher than a quick noose or ax.
I’m glad to report that my friend has gotten back on his feet and is doing well.
As for the embezzlers, the statute of limitations has run out. They probably think they got away with it.
But, as you and I know, God Himself is also a witness to their crimes, and unless they repent, the charges will not once again be dropped.