It's not a bad crime or anything, but it was illegal at the time.
So, in Germany, up until a few years ago, we still had a general draft for the army. And a generation ago it was very hard to get out of it.

My uncle was a hardcore pacifist, so going to the army wasn't an option for him. But being accepted as a conscientious objector at that time basically required you to be a devout Christian and use the bible as an argument for why you couldn't k**l another human. And my uncle was also atheist.

He couldn't realistically object, didn't want to go to the army and didn't want to go to jail, too. So he waited...

He got sent his draft notice, passed the physical and got a letter telling him to report to X company under sergeant Y.

He wrote back a reply, on rose-colored paper, scented with perfume, about how much he was looking forward to serving under the strong leadership of Y, promising to obey every one of his orders, and that he can't wait to experience life in the barracks together with so many strong and muscular men.

He was declared unfit for service shortly after.

So I am 32 years old. Husband and I rent out two rooms, one of which to a guy we have nicknamed "the ghost".

He pays a set fee, doesn't eat any food, does his laundry at 3am (other side of the house, sound insulated laundry room so we can't hear anything). He doesn't drive (ubers to work) so thus doesn't have a car. Never asks us for a thing. Just comes and goes as he pleases, pays his rent on time, and is quiet.

Occasionally you hear him as he is playing an online game and talking to some people. He has never had a person over, though occasionally leaves for a week to go to a convention. He has no family, no relationships, etc. He has been in the same call center job for the past 6 years. I occasionally check his room for bodies and general hygiene (no food trans piling up and molding kinda stuff). He is just your quiet, nerdy guy who is our ghost. We invite him out to dinner sometimes, he doesn't say much.

As I mentioned elsewhere my dad was a copper in the UK in the eighties.

A friend of my Dads (lets call him John) is sent out to investigate some suspicious activity in the Oxford area where he finds a house with a ladder against it, leading up to an ajar bedroom window.

Clearly a bit suspicious, but he can't see a van or any activity. He decides he had better investigate further.

So he proceeds to climb the ladder, remarking to himself how old and rickety it is.

As he reaches the top he briefly glimpses through the window a bedroom, with a cat sitting on the bed giving him a quizzical look.

I say 'briefly glimpses' because a second later there is a loud 'CRACK' as the rung he is standing on snaps cleanly through the middle. John plummets rapidly, each rung snapping cleanly as he hits them, like something out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. The sides of his hands gather a million splinters as they run down the sides of the ladder.

He hits the floor on his back and rolls away groaning, clutching his hands which are now 20% wood.

As he is laying there a car pulls up and a guy comes running over.

"What are you doing lying in my Garden mate? Are you alright?"

John slowly gets to his feet.

"I was checking your house, because there was a ladder going up to a window and someone reported it as suspicious!" John groaned.

"Oh no mate, that's just so my cat can get in, I haven't got a cat flap you see!" says the guy cheerfully.

"Are you not worried about getting burgled?" John whimpered.

"Nah" says the guy, "That's why I sawed half-way through each rung".