Of course I am both extremely curious and extremely nervous as to what he’s about to tell me. I am so accustomed to tales of abuse and poverty and immigration problems that I pretty much assume his story will fall into one of those categories.

“First I will ask, the people who hurt Katra, the people who stole my grandchild, do you catch them yet?” he asks. “Are they in the jail cell?”

“No, not yet.” I do not share with him my belief that Blumenthal’s investigation team is dragging its ass on the matter.

Then he leans forward in his chair. “Here is what I can tell you. The thief will be Russian, a man, maybe a woman, maybe both, maybe many people,” he says. And his hands are shaking so much that he must rest his mug of bad coffee on the pile of magazines near his chair.

“And how do you know that?” I ask.

“Because I know, because I know you will know when I tell you my story.”

Inside me is the urge to scream, For Chrissake, get on with it, buddy. Just tell me the story. But I don’t have to scream. Patrik Kovac begins to explain.

Three years ago, he and his wife and his fourteen-year-old daughter, Katra, entered the United States. Back in Croatia they had bought forged immigration-visitor papers that showed proof of relatives living in Sunnyside, Queens. Of course they actually had no relatives living in Queens or anywhere else in the United States. Their visitor permits were good for only three months. Patrik and his wife, Mariska, lived in fear every day. He tells me that a person “never becomes accustomed to fear. But we move on. Things will work out.”

I still am amazed by Patrik’s youthful presence. He looks like a Brooklyn hipster.

“Katra works as nanny for a mother in Flushing. Mariska works to clean office building at 34th Street. Me? I try. But no job. Sometimes I sweep barbershop and beauty parlor. But no job. Little money. But we will move on.”

I think Patrik may be planting the seeds of a sweet American immigrant success story. But I turn out to be really wrong with that prediction.

“Then last year Katra becomes pregnant.” He looks to the ground as if he’s just spilled the saddest story of his life. And it very well may be that among his many problems this one is indeed the saddest.

In my world, pregnancy is not an unusual condition. It’s my life’s work.

“Katra, she say the father of children she cares for makes her pregnant. Then she says she is fired. And the wife says she will have her thrown out of country. And then…”

A long pause.