But at the age of 34, he's locked in a state prison, serving time for bilking two elderly women of about $250,000, leaving them to live their golden years on Social Security and other meager income.

He nearly got away with it.

In fact, many who financially exploit the elderly are never caught and put behind bars — the criminals too smooth, the family ties too strong or the elders too ashamed or protective of their abuser to come forward.

But a relentless investigator, a diligent prosecutor — and ultimately, two courageous victims — put Luck in prison for a decade. The case offers lessons on financial abuse of the elderly, their families, police and prosecutors.

"The biggest challenge," Dane County Assistant District Attorney Ann Sayles said, "is just finding out it happened."

Luck, a Baraboo native who settled in Sun Prairie, had a rough start in life. His parents divorced, and his mother died when he was a boy. He and his brother, Corey, were raised by their grandparents.

But Craig Luck did well. He began studies at Madison Area Technical College in police science — his dad was a sheriff's deputy. Soon he began doing concrete jobs at building sites, which paid well. Before long, he had his own construction business. He married and honeymooned with his wife in the Cayman Islands. They bought a beautiful home and had a lovely daughter.

"Life," he said during a three-hour interview at the prison, "started looking real good."

'Opportunistic' crimes

DeForest Police Detective Sgt. Jim Pertzborn, a 13-year veteran, first heard about Craig and Corey Luck in 2002 at a routine meeting of financial crime investigators from the region.

The brothers, he heard, were suspected of intentionally passing bad checks in several communities and authorities wanted someone to lead the investigation.

The assignment wasn't sexy — minor white-collar crime investigations can be tedious and time-consuming — but Pertzborn told colleagues, "Let me look into it."

As Pertzborn began, he first learned from a cooperative Corey Luck that the brothers had done scams that weren't reported to authorities because their grandparents intervened and covered the losses.

Pertzborn dug more and found the brothers were still involved in contractor fraud, stiffing suppliers and writing bad checks to banks.

"They just committed crimes as they came," he said. "They were opportunistic."

The Lucks eventually pleaded guilty to charges of theft and fraud totaling about $30,000. In early 2004, they were each sentenced to about a year in the Dane County Jail, probation and restitution.

Pertzborn thought he was done with the Lucks.

"Borrowing" a life's savings

What Pertzborn, Sayles and even those closest to Craig Luck didn't know was that Luck had developed a serious gambling addiction that had led to online betting on sports, $3,000 to $4,000 a week.

And they didn't know Luck had been "borrowing" hundreds of thousands of dollars from the two elderly women to cover his lifestyle, bills and losses. The State Journal agreed not to name the women to protect their privacy.

The gambling "kind of took control of my life," Luck said.

In 1999 and 2000, four years before he went to jail, Luck took about $120,000 from a great-aunt who had helped raise him and taught him religion and piano as a youth.

Sometimes meeting in a church parking lot, he convinced the great-aunt, now 90, to write a series of checks — often $10,000 to $20,000 — promising to repay the money. After exhausting her savings, he convinced her to take a bank loan.

The great-aunt eventually sued him, but she initially didn't pursue criminal charges. She has recovered little and told police she blames herself for what happened.

Like a grandson

Meanwhile, Luck was looking for more money.

By chance, he found his other elderly victim, a gentle widow living in a simple ranch house with a photo of Pope John Paul II on the fireplace mantel, 13-inch television in the living room and a picture window facing a busy street in her native Sun Prairie.

The woman, now 91, had contacted Luck after seeing his snow removal ad in a newspaper.

Luck made a good impression. He shoveled her snow. He did other tasks, often for free. He'd bring his daughter to visit.

"This meant something to me," said the woman, whose son lived up north. "I needed somebody to do things and he'd do it."

Then, Luck began to ask for money — lots of it. As with his great-aunt, it was always for his business or another seemingly legitimate reason, and he always promised repayment.

"I believed him," said the woman. "I kind of looked at him as a grandson. I still do."

Luck's 'big day'

Law enforcement might never have known about the women's huge losses if it weren't for Craig Luck himself.

Luck, serving his sentence on the lower-level theft and fraud charges, decided to try to get out early. In a jail work-release program in 2004 but eager to be free, Luck delivered to his probation agent a $7,500 check for restitution to an earlier scam victim — making himself eligible for an early release.

Suspicious about where the money came from, Sayles subpoenaed records, including the $7,500 check, which had an unfamiliar signature. She asked Pertzborn to attend the court hearing on Luck's probation.

"This was his big day," Pertzborn recalled. "He was going to get out."

At the Dec. 17, 2004, hearing, Sayles questioned Luck about the check — Pertzborn sat in the back, his eyes glued on Luck.

"He went white as a sheet in a matter of seconds," Pertzborn said.

Luck, who alone knew the check could reveal his bigger swindles, began sweating profusely. He asked the judge for permission to get water. He rose and fainted, dropping face first to the floor. Pertzborn rushed to his aid. The hearing ended.

Winning her trust

Within 24 hours, Pertzborn was at the door of the modest Sun Prairie home where the frugal, elderly woman who had signed the $7,500 check has lived for 55 years.

Initially, she was cool to Pertzborn. Luck had phoned to warn of a devious detective hounding him.

But slowly, after hours of chat and even shoveling her snow until he could find a reputable contractor for her, Pertzborn won her trust.

Luck's stealing, Pertzborn found, had been so callous that, after exhausting her savings, he persuaded the woman to take a $30,000 second mortgage on her home. She is still repaying that loan.

Pertzborn was incensed. "How could you take one penny from this lady?" he asked.

Pertzborn and Sayles now had the victim's account of what happened, but she was reluctant to go to court. "I couldn't do it," the woman said. "I knew I'd break down."

But Pertzborn kept talking to her, and the bond between them grew. One day she mentioned a diary, showing him pages of handwritten notes that documented every date, every dollar — every cent — loaned, every unsuccessful attempt to contact Luck about repayment.

"It was the absolute smoking gun," said Pertzborn, who still gets a thrill recalling the moment.

The woman, still sharp and articulate, explained: "I realized I was getting older. My memory was not as good as it used to be. I've got to write this down."

As Luck's lies unraveled, the woman feared more than breaking down in court. "One of the hardest things for me," she said, "was having to tell my son ... that he would find out he had a mother who was so stupid. He'd say, 'You dumb old coot.' "

It didn't happen that way. When she told him about it, her son wrapped her in his arms and hugged her.

Victim comes forward

After allegations against Luck were reported in the media, the other victim — his great-aunt — stepped forward, and all charges were wrapped into one case.

In 2005, Luck pleaded guilty to three felony theft by false representation charges, was sentenced to 10 years in state prison and ordered to pay a net $243,000 in restitution.

Pertzborn, supported by DeForest Police Chief Robert Henze, had spent more than a year on a case that crossed many jurisdictions. The perpetrator and main victim lived in another community.

"Without Jim, Craig Luck would have had all the money and nothing would have happened, nothing at all," Sayles said.

'Want to believe'

The case, Pertzborn and Sayles said, shows the need for families to communicate to elders about finances, to keep records, for banks to report suspicious transactions, and police and prosecutors to be unrelenting.

The aged "are not idiots," Pertzborn said. "They did not get to this age and place by being idiots. But they are so trusting. They want to believe."

Luck, now divorced, his house for sale, and living behind razor wire and guard towers, will remain in prison until at least November 2014.

"I'm trying to take ownership of this," he said as he recounted events, politely but without emotion. "It was my doing. Nobody made me call a bet in or spend this money.

"I know I've ruined people's lives," he said. "I want to tell them how sorry I am, tell them how sorry I am that I let them down. I'm going to have to re-establish people's trust."

Pertzborn and Sayles, however, aren't persuaded by innocent-faced inmate 00460614.

"He's arrogant. He's a charming, smart guy," Pertzborn said, calling him a confident man who believed he could talk his way out of anything. Pertzborn has vowed to testify against an early release.

When he does get out, Pertzborn said, "I think he'll commit again."