In October 1988, my father was featured on “America’s Most Wanted” and sought by the FBI for his sixth prison escape and a host of other crimes.
Just eight days after I was born in April 1989, he was arrested. He first faced justice in New Mexico, where even the governor took an interest in his case. From there, he was extradited to South Carolina to stand trial for crimes he did not commit. Ironically, it was a private investigator who proved he couldn’t be guilty of those offenses … because he was too busy committing crimes in Florida at the time.
After South Carolina, he was sent back to Virginia, where he finally faced judgment for a 1986 federal credit union robbery in Newport News. He was sentenced to 30 years in prison. My earliest memory is visiting him there. He was strong then—strong enough to walk on his hands—and I remember watching him do it.
Providentially, the course of my life took a very different direction. I attended the United States Naval Academy, graduated in 2011, and was commissioned as a naval intelligence officer. Later, I served as a special agent with the FBI. Today, I am a private investigator (PI).
More importantly, I have walked the difficult path of leaving behind the sins of our forefathers and embracing the freedom found only in Christ—a journey that requires wrestling with forgiveness and encouraging others to do the same.
I don’t think my father directly inspired me to become a special agent or a PI. If anything, I’m not sure he would have approved of the FBI part. But he did, inadvertently, teach me how to think like a criminal.
When I was with the Bureau, I took a man-tracking course with our SWAT team. When you’re chasing someone through the woods, you don’t always know exactly which way they went, but you can often tell which way they didn’t go. You look for the path. You ask yourself: If I were running, what would I do?
That’s still how my PI practice works today. I begin with the question: If I were the criminal, what would I do? It’s a skill that most people aren’t prepared to use because it requires stepping into a mindset that can feel unsettling.
Most people can't relate to criminals, but I grew up with a dad who told me the tips and tricks to outsmart people.
My father was no saint, but I believe he is one today. He died in 2008, leaving behind a great deal of hurt and a number of fractured relationships. For much of my family, the aftermath was deeply traumatic.
Trauma is like a deep pit. We develop a sort of emotional Stockholm Syndrome: We want to climb out, but we’re terrified to make the attempt. Exhausted, afraid, or confused, the climb can feel impossible. But once you reach the top and draw breath again, you begin to notice other pits around you—some deeper, some darker—where others are still trapped. And you realize that your climb wasn’t just for you. Don’t waste the struggle; reach down and help someone else up.
People sometimes confuse staying together in the pit with loyalty. Shared trauma can bond people, but real loyalty isn’t in remaining stuck; it’s in rising and helping others rise too.
As a PI today, I bring all of this with me. Every experience, every lesson, every scar—literal and metaphorical—shapes how I work. I treat my clients as more than clients. Some of them are still in their own pits, and some of them are ready to climb out. I consider it a duty to help them rise.
Irregular Investigations provides professional private investigation and consulting detective services with a focus on clarity and results. The firm handles both corporate and personal cases, including financial crime, fraud, stalking, and other irregular circumstances. Every case begins with a complimentary consultation to understand the facts and outline an investigative plan. Its approach emphasizes discretion, reliability, and deep legal familiarity to uncover truths and deliver actionable insights.
IrregularInvestigations.com | @irregulartuckerwitt
That's how my PI practice works. I begin with the question: If I were the criminal, what would I do?
Every experience, every lesson, every scar—literal and metaphorical—shapes how I work. I treat my clients as more than clients.