One August morning, I noticed an envelope with first-class postage — postal speak for Potentially Important — from a bank where I do not bank, sandwiched between bills and junk mail.
Inside, I discovered some potentially important news: I’d overpaid a credit card balance, closed the account and Citibank owed me.
All I needed to do was complete the enclosed form and wait for my windfall.
If they didn’t hear from me soon, they’d turn my assets over to the place where lost rebates, insurance company credits and errant paychecks go to live: the Unclaimed Property Division of the Nebraska State Treasurer’s Office.
Those assets Citibank owed me? Exactly enough to pay for the stamp to mail the claim back: 60 cents.
After I rolled my eyes and read the letter again, I decided to save my stamp, and instead find out more about the place set to receive my pittance.
The Unclaimed Property Division wants us to have our wayward money.
It calls it property, although it’s almost always cash.
“It’s a rebate you filed for,†says Meaghan Aguirre, division director. “A utility deposit you forgot about. It’s found money, even though it’s your money.â€
It’s big money from an insurance policy. It’s chump change from a banking error. It’s the treasure inside Grandma June’s abandoned safety deposit box.
Every state has a system to disperse property due its citizens, required by law. Businesses and banks report and transfer abandoned funds and Aguirre’s office publishes a list of names online and in the state’s biggest newspapers.
Every county is represented in the 2022 spring list. In Douglas County, 10 pages and thousands of names; in Arthur County, population 439, a single potential recipient. (Paging Mr. Cone, the treasurer’s office has your money.)
Alongside those names are auto repair shops, bakeries, jewelry stores, hair salons, political campaigns and volunteer fire departments.
The Shamrock Livestock Market. The Nebraska Trucking Association. The woman with the same name as my sister, who is (sadly) not my sister.
There’s Pete Ricketts for Governor Inc. There’s the Bellevue Chamber of Commerce.
There’s my best friend Susan, who now has a $60 check coming and is rewarding me with a coffee date.
Unclaimed Property is the Santa Claus of state agencies. It doesn’t raise your taxes or hassle you to license your car.
It’s not Powerball, but the odds of winning are much better.
The math: One in five Nebraskans.
Median payout: $95
“If you don’t have unclaimed property, you likely know someone who does,†Aguirre says. “It’s your money; we’re just the custodian.â€
Aguirre is in charge of seven employees in Lincoln and Omaha who verify claims, sleuth out heirs and share the good news with mail you should not toss.
The office has a success rate far better than Husker football: 75% if there’s a valid Social Security number.
This year, Nebraskans have already been reunited with nearly $13 million, thanks to a $5 million investment account reported as dormant by TD Ameritrade. The owner knew he had it, but hadn’t fiddled with it in years, leaving Potentially Important letters unanswered.
It takes a $50 payout to make the print version. The division’s online database —  — starts at $15. The couch cushion category ($14.99 and under) doesn’t show up, but stays in the system until it can be added to a bigger pot of cash from a future accounting blunder or misplaced inheritance from Great Uncle Al, who always loved you best.
Once you make the list, you stay on it for all eternity. Or until you, or an heir, finally claim what’s yours.
At this moment, $200 million of our money is waiting.
Get on it, Nebraska.
* * *
The Lincoln man had $65,000 coming to him.
He didn’t seem to care.
He ignored letters. He ignored phone calls.
“I couldn’t get him to claim it, couldn’t get him to claim it,†said Mary Jones, an unclaimed property research specialist.
For 18 months, she called every Thursday. Every Thursday, the man’s office manager said the same thing: She’d relay the message.
Crickets.
Then Jones noticed something new: The man and his wife were no longer registering vehicles together. The wife had a new Arizona address.
“I thought, ‘OK. I bet he’s ready to get the money now.’â€
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The newly divorced man was.
Jones is working on another reluctant recipient now, an Omahan owed $19,000 and a safety deposit box holding three silver bars.
“I’ve been trying to get him to come in for years. It’s just not a priority for him.â€
Those are the outliers, Jones says. Most people — when they realize this isn’t a scam — are happy to be reunited with money they didn’t know they’d lost.
Like the family who received $336,000 in life insurance benefits and investments after the death of their mother.
And the grown children who hauled their mother’s casket in the back of a pickup to the mortuary, but were able to pay off her funeral expenses when a claim showed up.
Jones loves her work — equal parts detective, paper-pusher and good fairy.
It’s the people, she says. Someone with a new baby or a crappy car, delighted to hear they have money coming their way.
It’s the Plattsmouth man who called last week to verify his claim — proceeds of a forgotten life insurance policy.
“He thanked us and said the check was going to come in time to pay for his new dentures.â€
* * *
Al Hagemeier had been on the list for years. “Somebody told me they saw me there once, but the paperwork seemed too complicated.â€
This year, with a little prompting from the Flatwater Free Press, the Garfield County retiree tried again. He made a phone call, his wife Donita said. Verifying it was easy as pie.
Hagemeier will soon be getting enough moolah for a new tractor blade. “He’s pretty excited.â€
Marcie Young was pretty excited when she found herself on the list several years back. She’d forgotten she’d once had a credit card that deposited a percentage of purchases into a never-used college fund.
“It was about $1,000,†the Lincoln financial adviser said. “I was thunderstruck.â€
Katherine Endacott came into some cash in the 1970s after discovering the father of a childhood friend had bought a racehorse and put her name on the title. Both the horse and the father died — and Endacott’s share made its way from Kentucky to Nebraska’s Unclaimed Property Division.
“I didn’t get rich,†the Pleasant Dale woman said. “But it makes a good cocktail party story.â€
The 2022 party includes: Chris Dinan, who snagged $286 from an unclaimed 2014 paycheck. Tina Dykes, due $342 from a dental work overpayment.
Monica Kruger, awaiting $20.44 from an unclaimed rebate. Her daughter will soon be $102 richer. “From the Y, where she used to be a lifeguard.â€
Kruger also discovered her mother-in-law, brother-in-law and two friends in the database.
“And I told them to check, too.â€
Julie Cook has done her share of checking. Years ago, the Lincolnite started scouring the list, looking for her name (never there). She looked for friends, relatives, clients of her cleaning business. Strangers.
“I called when I had a few extra minutes. I’d tell them my name and that it was a hobby. They all seemed pleasantly surprised.â€
Once an older man found out he was due an insurance payout.
If I get a million dollars, I’ll look you up, he said.
* * *
Since the division was created in 1969, it has reunited Nebraskans with $240 million. Many millions arrive each year then head back out to those who claim money, a revolving door that never dwindles to nothing.
Every October, the department deposits most of what’s left — roughly $48 million in the past four years — into Nebraska’s Permanent School Fund, for school maintenance.
The cycle starts all over again.
“We’re always getting in more than we’re transferring out,†Aguirre said.
Including my 60 cents.
Its fate?
If I insist, I can have it, Aguirre said.
But …
“We’d be spending more to send you that payment than it is worth.â€
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