A moral dilemma for my protagonist in my thriller, White Thaw: The Helheim Conspiracy

In my latest thriller, my lead protagonist, Dr. Linda Ann Kipling, research scientist for the Naval Research Laboratory, discovers that her South American cousins are behind a dastardly plot to sabotage the world’s climate.  These relatives are her only remaining family; she has no siblings, and both parents have recently passed away.  In fact, it is her father who deciphers the clues that leads him to tell his daughter that he suspects his wife’s family is up to no good.  Kipling is doubly shocked because she also has just learned that her mother’s family had been prominent Nazis and had escaped Hitler’s bunker only a step ahead of the Russians pouring into Berlin as Hitler’s regime came to an end.

Because the stakes are so high, Kipling chooses to confront her two cousins in person and flies to Cartagena, Columbia, for this purpose only.  The clues revealed by her father, together with other new information, is convincing, but Kipling hopes that somehow it is all a misunderstanding.  She is especially conflicted because her one cousin, Dieter, has been especially kind to her over the years; in fact, he had secretly paid for her high school education.

Kipling flies south without informing her close confidant, her work colleague, Dr. Victor Mark Silverstein.  Having been in several close scrapes with her over the years, Silverstein is understandably concerned when he discovers Kipling’s plans.  In his mind, there is no doubt that Kipling’s family is complicit in some recent murders.

From this beginning, my story gets underway.  Kipling’s fears are realized, and she understands that unless she acts, bad things are going to happen to our planet.  Without going into further specifics, the point of this blog is to ask the question: how much would it take for you to turn in a family member if you knew that he or she was doing something so terrible that others might be hurt or killed?  Early on in the book, before the seriousness of Kipling’s family dealings become known, Silverstein makes the off-handed remark to Kipling that “you don’t squeal on family.”

I guess I would answer my own question by saying that it would matter how egregious the crime was.  There would be a wide disparity between discovering that my cousin had shoplifted a bouquet of flowers from the local farmer’s market compared to finding out he or she had murdered someone.  I’m sure you recall the recent arrest of Ariel Castro in Cleveland, Ohio, for kidnapping and holding three girls captive in his house for a decade.  What I remember is his brothers professing that they knew nothing of these atrocities, that they were fooled like everyone else.  Although it’s hard for me to understand how they could not have suspected something amiss over such a long period, I do want to believe them.  I can’t imagine keeping such a horrendous secret, even if it involved my own brother.

So, where would your dividing line be?  Would you turn in a family member—or worse yet, several family members—if you knew they were doing something awful?  Or would you reference the old adage that “blood is (indeed) thicker than water?”

Categorised in: White Thaw

This post was written by paulmarktag01