#27 Scott

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Let's play truth or dare.

Okay, go ahead.

No.

Jackie, you cut out.

You cut out.

I couldn't hear if you said truth or dare.

Which one did you say?

No, I'm not willing.

I'm not interested.

I don't want to play truth or dare.

Have you ever...

Have you ever peed in a shower?

Tell the truth.

Have you ever peed in a shower?

John?

Jackie?

That's just not a question, John.

Is it because the answer is yes?

Affirmative.

Okay, have you ever peed in a bathtub?

Negative.

You've never peed in a bathtub.

That's disgusting.

Why would you pee on yourself?

I'm not saying that I did.

You just did.

You just said you did.

No, I didn't.

Okay.

Okay, you could.

No, because I'm not in the hot seat.

No, but you are.

You're not in the hot seat.

I thought we were having a conversation.

I want to have a conversation.

We are having a conversation.

Okay, you could

have conversations

from Gimlet Media.

I'm Jonathan Goldstein, and this is Heavyweight.

Today's episode:

Scott.

Okay, we're rolling.

So, Scott, first of all, thank you.

Maybe anything to do would, yeah, go on.

No, go ahead.

If you're lucky, the mistakes you make as you move through life are small and harmless.

Calling your teacher mommy, leaving gum in your jeans in the wash,

or talking over the person you're trying to talk to.

No, no, sorry.

Sure.

Hang on a second.

Yeah.

Could you, yeah,

tell me more.

Scott, can you?

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

but the mistake Scott made wasn't the small kind.

It was the big kind.

Big because it hurt his dad, one of the people Scott loves most.

And he's been trying to fix that mistake for the past eight years.

For Scott, the story all begins when he was a kid, which is when he first discovered drugs.

The first one was weed.

You know, that was when I was 13.

And then alcohol.

And then it quickly kind of descended from there.

So I first did cocaine when I was 14, 15, 15, first did meth when I was about 15.

And then it was around that same time that I found opiates.

Scott's mom suffered from chronic pain, and there were always pills in her medicine cabinet, stuff like oxycontin and fentanyl.

It was this feeling of like finding a missing piece to a puzzle.

All of a sudden, my anxiety was gone.

I didn't have as much self-doubt.

And I was able to speak my mind and connect and talk and approach girls.

And

at the time, it really felt like like a cheat code that I would have for life.

And for a while it worked.

Scott graduated high school, then college, and found his way into a job as a well-paid graphic designer.

But he was still using drugs the way he always had to manage his anxiety and make friends, like the friend who got him to shoot heroin for the first time.

And I say friend now, but looking back on it, we weren't necessarily friends at all.

But he said, if you can give me a ride to go pick up some drugs, then I'll give you some for your trouble.

And so we're driving down I-70.

He's in shotgun.

I'm in the driver's seat with my arm extended out over the middle part of the car as he shoots me up for the first time.

And I instantly passed out and kind of swerved across three lanes before he grabbed the wheel.

And then I kind of came back to, you know, a foot away from hitting a guardrail.

That right right there just threw gasoline onto the fire.

It went from, you know, doing it on the weekends once or twice a month to doing it every weekend to doing it every few days to every other day.

Within a year, Scott lost his job and moved into his dad's basement, back into his childhood home in Colorado.

He still needed to get high every day and now had no money.

There were boxes in the basement filled with old jewelry and silverware, stuff that had belonged to Scott's mom before she'd passed away.

So Scott started started stealing stuff from the boxes to bring to a pawn shop down the road.

He figured an item or two wouldn't be missed, but pretty soon it became a daily thing.

All the while, the voice in the back of my head was still there, knowing what was right and was wrong, and so I felt immense guilt.

Soon the boxes were empty, and Scott began to eye other things.

Things right out in the open.

Things that belonged to his dad.

So like a radio on the shelf just right there in the living room, taking that.

And then a baseball signed by the early 30s New York Yankees, you know, Babe Ruth and Luke Eric and everything like that.

Did your dad know what was going on?

I mean, my dad is a very unique person.

He's kind of like chronically petrified of direct conversations.

You know, I remember even as a kid, he would have me order the pizza, you know, when we were ordering a pizza or something like that because he didn't want to talk to the person on the phone.

So Scott's dad never brought up the missing stuff

until Scott started taking money.

I knew right where his checkbook was.

You know, it was right there on the secretary by the front door.

And I had a light table where I put down a piece of paperwork that I'd found with his signature on it and then put the check over it and kind of traced over it.

The checks were small, $60 here and there.

But soon the account was thousands of dollars overdrawn.

So his dad had to make a decision.

It was one thing for a clock to go missing, another thing entirely for for a savings to disappear.

So the man who couldn't bring himself to pick up the phone to order pizza picked up the phone and reported his son to the police.

So then they piled me into the back of the police car and then brought me to the jail.

Were you scared at this point?

I was petrified.

I was petrified of the legal consequences I had, but I think I was equally or more petrified of the detox that I knew that was coming.

I remember scrawling out the hours I was sober on a little jailhouse notepad that they give you.

And, you know, I was doing $300 a day of heroin at that point.

So it was a really, really, really bad withdrawal.

There was just a series of horrible days where I just couldn't stop crying.

I would have these kind of vivid dreams of seeing family or being happy and then wake up to realize I'm still in a jail cell.

A couple weeks into his detention, a garbled voice came over the loudspeaker.

Scott had a visitor.

Nobody had visited me yet, so I thought it was a mistake at first.

So I go up there and there's my dad come to visit me.

But, um.

But Scott's father wasn't there to offer support.

He was there to present his son with a list of all the things he'd stolen.

the radios, the watch collection, the family silver.

It was two columns containing some 50 items, and at the very top of the page...

His most prized possession, the Luger.

This German pistol that my grandfather had taken off a German in World War II.

This gun was something that I knew was like his pride and joy.

That was like the quintessential memento and the biggest piece that my dad had to remember his dad by.

And so that was the one big thing that I had promised myself that I would never take.

And I took it.

Of all the things Scott had stolen from his dad, of all the mistakes he'd made, this is the one he regrets most.

I've only seen my father cry.

When his dad passed away, when my mom passed away, and in that jail, when he was telling me about him knowing about the gun being gone.

You know, this was a piece of his father that he thought he would be able to hold on to for the rest of his life, and I sold for $1,400 worth of drugs.

For four months, Scott sat in jail awaiting trial.

When he was finally sentenced, the judge decided to dismiss the charges if Scott completed this two-year treatment program that was modeled on rehab programs from the 70s.

Scott would have to shave his head and scrub the floors with a toothbrush, that kind of thing.

The judge told Scott that of the roughly 300 people he'd sent there, none had made it through.

So that was encouraging right at the very beginning.

But I was like, get me in.

Whatever I need to do, I'm going to do it.

After two years, Scott walked out of the facility, and he's been clean since.

He has a wife, two young kids, and a job at a residential treatment facility in Colorado, where he works with addicts and their families.

He's trying to make up for who he used to be by paying it forward, but there's one person he's never been able to pay back.

I have all but forgiven myself for a lot of the things that I've done in the past.

But this is one thing that no matter the amount of counseling, it still bothers me on the deepest level that I did this to my dad.

So, about five years ago, Scott took his dad's list of the stolen items and set off to recover the Luger, along with everything else.

So, I went to the old antique stores that I used to go to.

I went to the old sports memorabilia spot to see if I could track down the baseball that I had sold.

He succeeded in getting some things back, a Crossley antique radio, a ham radio.

And that Christmas, with his sister, all his aunts, and uncles gathered round, Scott surprised his dad with the items he'd recovered.

Scott was feeling pretty proud of himself until Uncle Bill piped up.

And my uncle, you know, basically says, Well, is the Luger in there?

Is the Luger one of the things that you were able to get back?

Uncle Bill was close with Scott's grandfather.

Like him, he'd also served in the military.

He believed the Luger should have been his to begin with, not his little brother's.

And I was like, no,

no, I wasn't able to find that.

And then that led to probably about a 10-minute spiel of his about about how important that gun was to him.

And I remember the day when I found out that that was stolen.

It still bothers me.

And it was just like in the middle of Christmas morning.

And we're handing out presents.

And every word that he said just like, ugh,

it felt like a kick in the gut.

And how do you think it made your father feel?

Very uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

Yeah.

Yeah.

But he's not the type of person that would toss it back in my face.

You know, that's kind of my uncle's style, and not necessarily his.

Although Scott's dad didn't say anything, Scott understood that his dad felt the same way as Uncle Bill, that it was nice to have all those items returned, but the only one he really cared about was the Luger, and it was gone.

All because of Scott.

I know that there's still trust issues there.

I know that there's still pain there.

And I've told him over the years that I'm going to do what I can to try and get it back.

And I know by the glean in his eye that that would matter quite a bit.

And that if I am able to track this down, it would be

seismic.

No matter what Scott accomplishes in life, or how good he feels, there's always that nagging voice that cries out, what about the Luger?

Were you able to get that back?

Even when Scott is relaxing in front of the TV, if anything about World War II comes on, he has to change the channel.

And so Scott's come to me.

He wants to find his grandfather's Luger and has no idea where to begin.

My first thought is, why me?

Why not the guys from Firearms Chat Podcast, the Reloading Podcast, Wasted Ammo podcast,

Socialist Rifle Association podcast, Concealed Carry podcast, New Shooter Canada, or Gun Girl Radio, the firearm show for the Second Amendment woman?

I'm more the wistful type than the pistol type.

More the pun type than the gun type.

Do you think we'll have to go to a gun show?

I don't know.

I think it just kind of depends on where it ended up.

Like, the thing that's a little scary, and maybe I'm completely, like, out of line with thinking this, but is it possible, like, that these guns can filter back into

like a kind of nether world of like Nazi sympathizer people?

Exactly.

Like, yeah.

it's possible yeah

I don't abide by Nazi sympathizers but I'm rapidly becoming a Scotsy sympathizer

as Anton Chekhov once said if a gun shows up in the first act it must be fired in the second and that's a lot of press

but as Jonathan Goldstein once said If a gun's to be fired at all, please don't let it hit me in the wallet because that's where I keep the charge card I use for purchasing quality products like the ones coming your way.

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Not knowing where to start, I spend several hours on a gun collector's discussion board run by someone named Jan with an iron cross for an avatar.

I introduce myself to my fellow gun nuts and announce that I'm looking for a gun.

Right away, an internet pop-up pops up, telling me that my content has been blocked and to quote see administrator immediately.

After the Gimlet Media HR department confiscates my computer, I unholster my weapon of choice, the telephone.

I dial gun dealerships all over the country to seek advice.

It's going to be almost impossible.

There may not be any type of record.

Because it could just be in some private collector's collection.

It's going to be hard for you.

I'm I'm gonna tell you straight up.

Do you know when it was sold?

Do you have any type of serial number?

Of course, a serial number.

Scott doesn't know the serial number, but he admits there's one person who might.

Uncle Bill, my dad's older brother.

Yeah.

Mr.

Christmas Morning himself.

Are you in touch with your uncle?

I am.

I mean, not a ton, but I am, yeah.

So maybe he would, he would be a place to start.

Um

now

I'm uh

I mean, of course, there's a cloud of anxiety.

My chest starts tightening when I think about actually doing it.

Shortness of breath would come next.

Then burning in the chestal region.

It was sounding to this reporter like the healing process had already begun.

But maybe we could both do it.

Yeah.

We could do a three-person call.

So, with me on the line as his emotional defibrillator, Scott dials up, Uncle Bill.

Good afternoon.

This is Bill.

Hello, Uncle Bill.

How are you?

I'm good.

Mr.

Goldstein.

Yeah.

Hi.

After Scott and I jockey over who will hide behind whose petticoats, Scott boldly peers out from behind my petticoats and asks Uncle Bill about the serial number.

I believe it had a fairly low serial number, but unfortunately, we never took a photo of the writing on the inside of the holster.

So

you don't have the serial number?

I do not.

But the moment we bring up the gun, it's Christmas morning all over again.

It's a piece of history, of his history.

That was part of what formed him to be the man that I knew, and that's about all we have from him from that era.

And now we don't have that.

When Uncle Bill speaks of the gun, it's as though Scott, the person responsible for its disappearance, isn't there, even when he pipes up to defend himself.

The The gun disappeared to help beat his habit, and I was really pissed at him.

Yeah, I paid off every cent.

I wasn't real happy with his dad either.

You know, it wasn't like I was going to go and beat him up or anything, but I was pissed that he felt the need to, quote, keep it safe, and then he didn't keep it safe.

Do you still feel like you fault your brother for that?

Somewhat.

Now, the reality of World War II vets is that they didn't really like to talk about the war.

We didn't have PTSD as a diagnosis.

The damage was usually dealt with with alcohol.

And he and an awful lot of them drank too much.

And that's how they self-medicated.

After the war, Scott's grandfather became an alcoholic.

He spent his days in an easy chair with a glass in his hand, and in the evenings he kept a bottle of whiskey on the nightstand to make sure he didn't wake up in a withdrawal.

Like the Luger, it seems addiction has also been a part of Scott's family for decades.

Before getting off the phone, Uncle Bill does offer a couple helpful bits of information.

He tells us that the Luger was a mouser.

and that returning World War II soldiers were often issued something called bring back papers, documents detailing any items they took home.

If we could find those papers, Bill says, there's a chance the gun's serial number might be there.

He also says that if anyone has the bringback papers, it'd be Scott's older sister, Mary, the family record keeper, and also one of Scott's biggest supporters.

He's a good person and an honest one.

When Scott was in jail, Mary was the one who visited most, gave him money for the commissary, and helped him with his court case.

When I explain the length Scott's going through to get their dad's gun back, Mary becomes emotional.

The whole thing reminds her of a story from when they were kids.

Mary, Scott, and their dad had gone out shopping.

He accidentally stole a bookmark from a store just because he thought we'd paid for it and we hadn't.

And he cried all the way home and made us go all the way back to the store almost an hour away to return it.

Mary still sees her little brother as the same well-meaning kid who's trying to make things right.

She's not sure she has the bringback papers, but wants to help.

So over the weekend, she digs through their grandfather's old stuff.

She finds wartime postcards, letters to their grandmother, photos of their grandfather and his army buddies huddled in foxholes.

And then she found the actual document,

the bringback papers.

Holy cow.

Okay, so what, and

I know.

It's pretty crazy.

Yeah.

That's yellowing with a almost looks like it has a coffee stain right through the middle.

And then it has just written in underneath it, Luger pistol, serial number 459.

Wow.

Hi, Giovanni.

How are you, Jonathan?

I'm good.

How are you?

I'm doing well, doing well.

I get Giovanni's number from another gun dealer who tells me that if I'm looking for a World War II-era Luger, Giovanni is my man.

Giovanni owns one of Colorado's largest historical firearm shops and is something of an expert in Lugers.

And so, armed with the serial number, I get ready to make some headway.

The serial number is 459.

Okay.

No.

You have an incomplete serial number.

Giovanni explains that Luger's serial numbers have both numbers and letters, so there could be a 459A, 459B, and so on.

I re-examine the scan Scott sent me, but no letter.

How many 459 serial number guns are there probably out there?

Lugers?

Probably about

could be a hundred.

Hoping to narrow the pool, I tell Giovanni it wasn't just any luger, it was a Mauser.

Does that

give you anything?

So in giving you that serial number, it's not like you can look it up in a database or anything.

No.

Oh, absolutely not.

No.

What would you do if you were trying to track down this gun?

I will give up.

Before hanging up, Giovanni says there's one last thing we could try.

Retracing the gun's path.

Go back to the pawn shop clerk to see if he has a record of who he sold the gun to.

Giovanni says the the clerk has no obligation to reveal that information, but it's worth a shot.

The clerk's name is George, and he and Scott were friendly back when Scott was living with his dad.

They're still connected on Facebook.

So Scott messages asking if George might be willing to talk to us.

And George says yes.

And then he calls me back a couple minutes later just in tears.

It turns out that when George bought the gun from Scott eight years ago, he intended to keep it for himself.

At the time, George and his wife were expecting a baby.

And about two weeks after I had sold him that gun, he found out his wife had brain cancer.

Oh my God.

Like really aggressive brain cancer.

And she ended up having to undergo really aggressive radiation.

And so because of that, they ended up losing the baby.

Just months after buying the gun from Scott.

George sold it to pay for his wife's medical bills.

And then she passed away a number of months after that.

And it just brings up these kind of horrible memories that he's trying to avoid diving back into.

Each time the gun has changed hands, it seems it's been in the midst of violence, desperation, and personal tragedy.

While George doesn't want to talk, He does remember the name of the person he sold the gun to, the owner of a rare coin and gold bullion shop, a man named Klaus

I just keep my collecting interest private you know some people think just because you buy Nazi guns that you're a Nazi when I first phone Klaus at his store he's reluctant to talk he's nervous about being judged for his hobby I'm a collector but you know some people associate collecting World War II German memorabilia with uh you know Nazism

I reassure Klaus that that's not what I think but over the course of our phone call, I become less sure of what I think.

I have a Luger serial number seven.

What makes it so interesting that

Hitler's party pin number was number seven.

So he was, you know, the party member number seven.

I have a number seven, Luger.

How did you acquire something like that?

I have some things that are very, very unusual.

You know, I came, I'm an immigrant.

I came from Germany.

My grandfather was a Nazi officer, and

my father was

in the youth.

I have many questions for Klaus.

First and foremost, why are you telling me, Jonathan Goldstein, about your familial ties to the Nazis?

But I'm not here to interrogate Klaus.

I'm here to find Scott's gun.

So I try to steer us back on track.

I tell Klaus that I'm calling on behalf of a man named Scott, whose grandfather once owned a Mauser-Luger that George sold to him some years ago.

Klaus tells me that's not possible.

He tells me he never bought a gun from George.

He doesn't even know who George is.

And besides, he says, he's never owned a Mauser-Luger.

Maybe you're mistaken, I say.

All these guns kind of look alike.

Black, shiny, shooty.

Maybe you lost track of it.

Maybe it fell behind the couch.

Klaus tells me he'll look around, but he's non-committal, just trying to get me off the phone.

Then, at 11.13 p.m., I get a text.

Hello, Jonathan, it reads.

Call me at your convenience.

And speaking of convenience, no need to so much as move a muscle because I'm about to march right over there and dump a truckload of savings directly onto your face.

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the first and only business plan to combine intelligent performance, built-in security, and seamless satellite coverage.

With Supermobile, your performance, security, and coverage are supercharged.

With a network that adapts in real time, your business stays operating at peak capacity even in times of high demand.

With built-in security on the first nationwide 5G advanced network, you keep private data private for you, your team, your clients.

And with seamless coverage from the world's largest satellite-to-mobile constellation, your whole team can text and stay updated even when they're off the grid.

That's your business, Supercharged.

Learn more at supermobile.com.

Seamless coverage with compatible devices in most outdoor areas in the U.S.

where you can see the sky.

Best network based on analysis by OOCLA of Speed Test Intelligence Data 1H 2025.

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This is Scott.

Hey, this is Jonathan Goldstein speaking.

How are you?

Well, I have some news for you.

I found the gun.

What?

Yeah.

Are you kidding me?

No, no.

Are you kidding me?

No.

Oh, my God.

Yeah.

You found it.

Yes.

Wow.

Yeah.

I'm blown away.

It's a matter of whether we'll be able to get it.

Okay.

It's still in Klaus's possession.

So did you talk to him?

I did.

And

it was an interesting conversation.

So

you found the gun?

Yeah, you know, I was surprised.

Last night I took a look.

And I went into my vault room and I found it.

The Luger was still in the original holster.

Attached to it was a tag with Scott's grandfather's name.

Would you be open to the idea of selling it back to him?

Well, my first thought is

probably not.

It's just that I legally purchased the gun and I mean I'm a collector and you know I I paid for it.

So,

I mean, would you say that his grandfather paid for it with his service?

I mean, it's war bounty that someone brought it over from Germany.

You know, he didn't pay for it.

From Klaus's perspective, the gun Scott stole was already stolen property.

He took it off of a German officer.

And, you know, as we spoke prior, my grandfather was an officer

in World War II.

And, you know,

my thoughts were, gee, you know, could that gun

been his?

At this point, I'm not really compelled to let go of the gun, but I still give it some thought.

So the way that we left it was

he said that he'd think about it.

Okay.

Well,

I won't start celebrating yet, but we know who has it.

We know where it is.

So now it's just kind of tactfully figuring out what it's going to take to get it back.

I really, I really do respect your optimism.

I don't think we're going to get the gun back,

personally.

I'm going to try.

We're going to get that gun.

Since Scott's not ready to admit defeat, I suggest he try making his case directly to Klaus in a

chances are real.

Klaus receives the letter, but offers no response.

Two weeks go by, and still we hear nothing, so I send another email.

Klaus' answer is short.

I have considered Scott's response, and I have decided to not sell the gun at this time.

If my position ever changes, I will contact you.

Klaus.

That's just ridiculous.

Settling on the fact that we know where it is and not getting it back, that's just like, it's super frustrating.

But I mean, there's got to be something we can do.

Scott says he's willing to pay whatever Klaus wants for the gun.

So again, I contact Klaus.

It's not a money issue, Klaus responds almost immediately.

I am just not interested in selling a gun to an individual.

I can't figure out what exactly Klaus means by an individual.

Maybe in the past he sold guns to organizations or museums.

But when I write him back, he responds with this,

based on the background information, I would not sell this gun back to Scott.

So it's not really an individual per se.

It's this individual.

Scott's letter hadn't made Klaus feel sympathetic.

It had made him feel nervous.

Like with Scott's criminal past, a gun and a second chance might not make for a great combo.

If there was any hope, it's now gone.

Well, I have an update.

Update, okay.

A couple days later, I catch Scott at work.

Yeah, I have another update.

Um-huh.

It looks like Klaus is willing to sell the gun.

You're kidding me.

No.

You were right.

You were right to be hopeful.

I did not think that I was going to be reporting this back to you.

What brought it about?

What changed his mind?

I'd asked Klaus the same question.

It seemed as though over the weekend you had a change of heart.

I figured you were going to haunt me until I finally get it back to the guy.

I probably would.

I just thought, you know, it seems like the guy really

wanted that item back.

So I just didn't want to be haunted about it.

So

I can't even believe it.

But there was still one thing that Klaus hadn't changed his mind about, and I feel bad having to tell Scott.

He is saying that he is willing to sell the gun, but he won't sell it to you.

Klaus doesn't trust Scott.

Bottom line.

I mean, he doesn't know me.

He doesn't know that I've become a contributing member of society.

After everything Scott's done to redeem himself, the rehab, the good works, Klaus' judgment stings.

But Scott gets it.

It's something he's experienced before.

People accusing him of theft when things go missing.

Women breaking things off when they learn he was once an addict.

The world still sees Scott as a bad bet.

But he sweeps aside his feelings to address the more pressing question.

Who can we get to buy the gun?

The first person that comes to my mind is the person who's always believed in Scott most.

What about your sister?

Yeah, absolutely.

No, she would be totally open and willing to do that.

Oh, 100%.

Well, it looks like we're going to be buying a gun.

Let's buy a gun, guys.

Except, we don't.

After looking into Colorado's complicated gun laws, we learn that because Mary's not a full-time Colorado resident, it's illegal for her to buy the gun.

So we discuss options.

Scott's wife could buy it and give it to his dad.

But that's also illegal.

In Colorado, only blood relatives can gift each other guns.

We consider Uncle Bill totally legal, but Scott's worried he'd buy it and then want to keep it for himself.

Out of viable family members, we consider getting a middleman to buy the gun from Klaus, then sell it to Scott, who can then give it to his dad.

But as it turns out, there's a term for this, a straw purchase, and it's a federal felony.

It's been nearly two weeks of phone calls with Scott, with lawyers, with the Colorado Firearms Unit, and with each passing day, I become increasingly nervous about Klaus changing his mind.

So I present Scott with what might be our last remaining option.

His dad, Wynne.

Scott falls silent.

For the first time in the course of this quest, he seems defeated.

The thought of placing his father Wynne, the man afraid of the crack-voiced pizza boy, in a room with Klaus, the man with the gun vault and the Luger that may or may not have belonged to Adolf Hitler, makes him wonder if maybe it's all just gone too far.

But at this point, it's the only way to get the gun.

So Scott agrees.

Wynn will buy the Luger.

After the break, Wynn and Klaus.

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Hello.

Hello.

Hi.

Scott and his dad, Wynne, meet me on the way to see Klaus.

Hi!

Mary's here too.

She's come along for support.

Klaus told us to meet him at a gun shop he knows, where they can run the necessary background check.

We all get into Scott's car.

People with microphones and stuff.

Scott's dad, Wynn, is seated up front.

He's brought along the Luger's empty case, which sits on his lap.

Wynne is bright-eyed and smiley, but knowing from Scott how shy and nervous his dad can be gives his jolliness a slightly forced quality.

Oh, there's road work.

Case in point, when our ETA gets pushed back due to road work, Wynn bursts into song.

Road work,

here we come.

Or, this is Wynne as Scott tells us about his day.

This pretty dark day.

Wynn is the one giggling in the background.

They got four people into detox programs this morning.

So, a lot of distraught parents and overdosing teenagers to deal with this morning.

We pull into a parking lot and we all get out of the car.

All except for Scott.

After the way Klaus responded to his letter, he's afraid if he goes in, he'll blow the whole deal.

We'll be right back.

Cool.

Well, have fun.

Yes, alright.

From behind the windshield, Scott watches as his father ambles towards the gun shop, empty gun case in his hand.

I can imagine how Scott's feeling.

Scott already believes he's failed his dad in so many ways.

Sending him to buy back his own gun in a rundown-looking gunshop with bars on the windows must feel like one more failing.

Let's buy ourselves a gun.

Time to buy a gun.

At the door, a large man wearing sunglasses and a holstered gun silently greets us.

Wynne ducks inside.

The walls and shelves of the gun shop are full of Nazi medals, Nazi helmets, Nazi hats, belts, uniforms, guns, and swastika armbands.

And at the center of it all is Klaus, who is, at present, chummily talking to a large tattooed clerk with a white goate.

They quiet down when Wynne, Mary, and I approach.

Klaus appears to be in his 60s.

He's a slight man with thinning, slick-back hair.

Wynne walks over, smiling nervously as Klaus turns to greet him.

And then, the grandson of a Nazi officer shakes hands with the son of an American soldier.

As Mary and Klaus introduce themselves, I adjust the levels on my recorder.

The goateed man has a look about him that says, I don't listen to podcasts.

Just the same, I take a deep breath, scoop my testies out of my MPR tote bag, and, in my best vocal approximation of Ira Glass, demand my journalistic rights.

Uh, and um,

would it be okay if we were to be recording for the thing they were doing in the background?

Absolutely not.

Okay, absolutely not.

Now, cut it.

The Luger sits on a glass display counter.

Wynne walks over.

That's it, he says.

His father took it off of my grandfather, Klaus jokes to the goateed man.

The gun is pristine.

Mary and I take turns holding it.

It's heavier than we expect.

Wynne hands his driver's license over for the background check.

While we wait, there's an awkward silence.

I consider asking if anyone's seen Mama Mia 2 here we go again, and if so, whether they thought the closing supertrooper number at the Hotel Belladonna was a bit much.

But before I can clear my throat of anxiety mucus, the background check is complete.

After all the hoopla, it took all of ten minutes.

Wynne gives Klaus the money and Klaus gives Wynne the gun.

For perhaps the first time ever, the Luger changes hands without incident.

Klaus watches as Wynne carefully places the gun back into its case.

Don't let it get out of the family anymore, he says, as the goate man watches us wind our way to the exit.

On the ride back, everyone is quiet.

I imagine Scott is feeling relief, Mary, pride in her brother.

But watching Wynne in the front seat, staring out the window, gun case at his feet, it's hard to say what he's feeling.

God, this is crazy to see.

At Mary's apartment, we all huddle around the dining room table.

Scott's grandfather's gun has been placed at the center.

Scott and Mary marvel at it.

Wait, I'm amazed that the tag is still on it.

Yeah.

And that it has a number.

459.

Look at that.

This is crazy.

You understand how crazy this is.

If Wynne does understand how crazy it is, it's hard to tell.

There's something muted about his response.

In fact, since we've entered the apartment, Wynne hasn't seemed interested in his father's gun at all.

When Scott asks him if he'd like to hold it, he declines.

While Scott and Mary pass their grandfather's gun between them, Wynne sits silently.

I try to draw him out.

Did you put any hopes in ever getting that gun back?

I thought it was unfortunate that it disappeared, but I wasn't.

Saying, darn, I wish I could find that gun.

It's just a material object.

No one is sure what to say.

Sure, it's a material object, but it's a material object that carries great meaning.

It's a material object that connects him to his dad.

I was not as close to my dad as I would like to have been.

The guy with a glass of Scotch whiskey in his hand, sitting in the easy chair, tossing out criticisms as needed.

The way you grow a better son is to criticize him.

For the first time all day, Wynn isn't cracking a silly joke or smiling.

My main memory of my dad was being afraid of him.

I remember one of my early memories is that I'd somehow succeeded in getting a bruised bone on my shin.

And I was like three years old.

And my mother was sufficiently concerned that she took me to the doctor and had it x-rayed.

And it was, oh, how in the world did little Teddy, that was me then, get a bruise on his bone.

And I think what it is, is that I think I got kicked

by a guy wearing size 12 wingtips.

Scott's never heard this story before, and it seems almost like he doesn't want to believe it.

Were there good parts about your relationship with him, if you had to name?

If I had to name.

Wynne explains that his relationship with his father wasn't the same as Bill's relationship with their father.

I think I felt criticized mostly for not being as good as my brother.

He always did well in school, and I wasn't always so wondrous.

And I always saw myself as a little more plump and a little less athletic.

Bill was always the louder voice in the room.

So that Christmas, when Bill lectured Scott about the significance of the Luger, Scott had assumed Bill was speaking for his dad, too.

But he wasn't.

I saw it as this treasured possession that linked you to the good parts of Grandpa.

But your relationship with him is complicated and different than I even knew.

Scott was right in believing that the gun was a reminder of Wynne's father and that it carried a lot of meaning for Wynne.

He just misunderstood the nature of that meaning.

To know that, like, Scott had been thinking about it all these years, even maybe past your having thought about it,

how does that make you feel?

It makes me feel loved that he would make it a part of his life to try to track it down.

Feels like maybe I was at least partially successful in not being like my dad.

Yeah.

That I was somebody he could run over to and climb up in the lap of when he was little and stick his fingers up my nose.

He used to like to do that.

I could never stick my fingers up my dad's nose.

Wynne looks over at his son.

Don't let it bother you anymore.

The greatest prize that I got out of this whole thing was the fact that even though all this crap disappeared, I got to get my boy back.

The funeral plot that I had bought for myself to be next to your mom, I thought I was going to have to bury my son in it.

And I am delighted that I never had to do that.

That's ever so much better.

Maybe eight years ago, during Wynne's visit to Scott in jail, it wasn't the missing gun that had made him cry.

It was missing his son.

But now, the gun tells a different story.

The gun has grown, so it's not just my dad anymore.

It has a whole story to tell about my son, and it's back

Returned by

this guy here.

Thank you for doing all that.

Of course.

A few weeks later, I get this text from Scott.

The other night, it reads, I stumbled upon a World War II documentary.

And for the first time in eight years,

Scott didn't change the channel.

Now that the furniture's returning to its goodwill home

Now that the last month's rent is scheming with the damaged deposit

Take this moment to decide.

If we meant it, if we tried.

But felt around for far too much.

From things that accidentally touched.

This episode of Heavyweight was produced by Stevie Lane and me, Jonathan Goldstein, along with Kalila Holt and B.A.

Parker.

The show is edited by Jorge Just.

Special thanks to Emily Condon, Alex Bloomberg, Bloomberg, Nathan Foster, Jacob Epler, and Jackie Cohen.

Bobby Lord mixed the episode with original music by Christine Fellows, John K.

Sampson, Blue Dot Sessions, Michael Hurst, Haley Shaw, and Bobby Lord.

Additional music credits can be found on our website, gimletmedia.com/slash heavyweight.

Our theme song is by The Weaker Thans, courtesy of Epitaph Records, and our ad music is by Haley Shaw.

Follow us on Twitter at heavyweight or email us at heavyweight at gimletmedia.com.

To see photos from this week's episode, you you can follow the show on Spotify and check out our show page on the Gimlet Media website.

We'll be back in two weeks with a brand new episode of Heavyweight.

This is Justin Richmond, host of Broken Record.

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