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Uh-oh: Ring's on its way to dump
By MEGAN SCOTT and DONNA WINCHESTER
Laurie remembered taking off the ring, a family heirloom, and laying it on the counter Thursday night while making hamburger patties. She had searched everywhere: behind the stove, in the coffeemaker, on the kitchen floor. "Are you playing a cruel joke on me?" she asked. "Do you have my ring?" Her husband remembered cleaning house the next morning in preparation for garbage collectors. "I must have cleaned up the counter and thrown it away with a napkin," he told his wife of 11 months. Walters, 37, called BFI trash haulers and told a dispatcher what had happened. While on hold, he placed a call from his cell phone to the insurance company. "I figured if I got the $7,000, I could probably get her something even nicer than she had, but she really wanted that ring back," he said. For Laurie Walters, 36, that symbol of their union on March 9 could not be replaced. Her husband was all but certain it was in the garbage. "They said it was like looking for a needle in a haystack," he said. "They tried to discourage me." Walters knew he had no choice. "I came home from work," said Walters, who works in marketing. "I looked around. My wife is pregnant. She's sitting there saying: 'It's gone. It's gone. You threw it away.' I was definitely in the doghouse." A dispatcher told Walters that the truck from his area was due at the Pinellas landfill at 2 p.m. If the load went into the incinerator, there would be no way of finding the ring. She also told him to bring a $100 check and $100 in cash to cover the cost of holding up the truck, using the garbage workers to help him search and cleaning up the concrete pad where they were going to spread out the trash. He stopped at three ATMs on the 40-minute trip south, but they were all out of order. "A bad omen," he thought. The fourth one was the charm. When he arrived, the truck was waiting for him, along with the two men who pick up trash on his route, Dennis Delgrosso and David Lore. "He was pretty upset," said Lore, who lives in St. Petersburg. "I got out and just tried to make the situation as calm as I could." Walters said his helpers were "impressive." "They asked me where I lived. They said, 'You have a blue garbage can, don't you?' They knew my garbage cans. They knew them." In all, seven people started opening bags, trying to find addresses that could help narrow the search. They knew Walters' garbage in a white plastic bag with an untied yellow drawstring. Within 15 minutes, Lore had found a bag that matched the description. He pulled it open. "Do you drink Diet Coke?" he called. "Yes," George Walters replied. "Do you eat Jell-O cups?" Lore called again. "Yes," George Walters replied. They had found the bag. George Walters put his gloved hands inside, rifling through the Jell-O cups, paper plates and soda cans. He pulled out a wad of paper towels, slowly unfolding the crinkles. There it was. "I found it! I found it!" he said. "Everyone was amazed. I'm still shocked. It looked good -- like it had never left her hand." Lore said he has been picking up garbage for nine years and rarely gets someone who wants to search through the trash -- not even for a wedding ring. "Just the odds of finding it are astronomical -- one little ring," said Lore. "I knew it was a lot of sentimental value there for him and his wife. I was just hoping that it was in there." George Walters tipped the workers $60. He offered to take a friend who helped in the search out for drinks. But Laurie Walters wasn't having it. "Bring my ring back first," she told him. "My wife was ecstatic," he said. "She said, 'That's the best Valentine's present I could ever have.' " © 2006 • All Rights Reserved • St. Petersburg Times
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