Name Redacted

The following is a transcript of the custodial interrogation of [Redacted]. The interview began at 16:07 23 12 2025 at the offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Suspect is held on charges of fraud, human trafficking, and racketeering.

[Redacted]: Are these cuffs really necessary? I already have a busted foot, so I’m not going anywhere fast.

You, over there, what’s your name? Agent? Is he Agent too? I get it, I like to keep my name to myself, too. I only got caught because that woman and her henchman followed me home one night. That’s where I slipped up.

They say pride cometh before a fall. I would have walked away with her first born if I wasn’t so goddamned cocky, dancing around the fire, shouting it for all to hear.

That’s what you’re holding me on, right? The kidnapping of the kid? Look around, Jack. I don’t see any kids anywhere. In fact, check with that lady. You’ll find she’s home and happy with her powerful husband and their precious brat. They’re rich, too— I made them rich.

That currency isn’t fraudulent. It’s one hundred percent gold, real and tradeable. Let the guys with the glasses and the neckties figure out what turning straw into gold does to the economy. That’s just my ability and I can’t help what I am.

I’m a kobold. We’re German household spirits of all shapes and abilities. Kind of like faeries, just not like those broody shirtless guys on the covers of books these days. Dunno though, I might be handsome enough. Most of us look like the guys in the red hats you can find in your garden.

On the whole, we’re a peaceful bunch. We understand the value of hard work and fairness. There are those of us that will help you finish your chores in exchange for our favorite foods, and others of us that will craft you beautiful pieces of handiwork in exchange for a trinket or two. My ability just happens to be metalwork.

I can change any organic object into any kind of metal. For most of my life, I lived comfortably in the home of a clockmaker. That guy did a great business crafting luxury watches, gigantic grandfather clocks, or whatever kind of timepiece you needed. He’d keep me supplied with spare jewels or anything that didn’t jive with a particular setting. In exchange, I’d change scraps around the house into the steel and brass he needed for the clockwork.

Then the computers came around and people didn’t need clocks anymore; they already had them in their pockets. Plus, the clockmaker was getting older and more eccentric with every turn of the hour hand. He got really into making cuckoo clocks, spending all his considerable talents crafting the little figurines and scenes that dance and sing every hour. He started trying to trade me for wooden ladies that didn't look quite appropriate enough for grandma’s sitting room, if you know what I mean.

It wasn’t what I really wanted, but a trade was a trade and his business was so slow I was hardly doing any work anyhow. I actually started worrying about the guy. That was my first mistake, really, not dancing around a fire shouting my name in the end. Caring about the human you make a deal with is always a bad idea. But I hadn’t learned that lesson yet.

The guy was getting skinny in that spindly way old guys do; shuffling around his shop like a vulture. I noticed his cupboard was bare on more than one occasion but he kept on making clocks nobody was gonna buy. So, one night while he slept I took some spare wood shavings and swapped them out for a few coins. Nothing extravagant, just something to buy him an extra loaf of bread or a bit of meat for his supper stew.

Wouldn’t you know it, the guy got a taste for beef. He started needing more and more money, so each week I’d round up his grocery budget a bit more. He looked a heck of a lot healthier, but still nobody was buying those damn clocks.

Needless to say, this caught the attention of another kobold. Like I said, we’re a peaceable bunch, mostly helping out around the home when a good deal comes our way. There are a few of us with an axe to grind, though. You humans call those guys poltergeists.

Poltergeists are also homebodies, but they are real spooky about it. Making tons of scary noises, dropping things, moving things. They’re usually just trying to send a message, but they don’t have the best communication skills. They’ll go away once they get what they want, just like the rest of us, but these guys are pretty angry and sometimes it’s hard to make your point when you’re angry.

This poltergeist in particular was so angry he didn’t know what he wanted. First, it was money. But he scared the woman who used to live in his house so bad that there was nobody around to give him any. He finds out about me, and then he’s all: make this grass into cash. This spoiled milk into moola. This bread into— dough? Well, you get the picture.

I’m not really supposed to help other kobolds, but this poltergeist threatened my life and the life of the old clockmaker. And I cared too much for the old fool so I did what I could for him on the side. Suddenly, it’s not enough. Now the poltergeist wants a human kid. I tried to tell him- metal’s my thing, and this guy I live with is ancient. Plus, kids usually come with women and there weren’t women lining up around the block to get cuckoo with the clock if you catch my drift.

As you might guess, the poltergeist didn’t take too well to being told no, so he started haunting my house. Gave the old guy a heart attack and scared me so bad I’m running though the streets. I had no idea where to go until I passed by a cellar grate and heard this lady just bawling her eyes out. A cellar seemed like a good enough place to hide and even the poltergeist wasn’t going to bother a lady who is already crying. He liked to make them do the crying.

She wasn’t expecting me. We fell into a conversation. Turned out, I was just what she needed. Her no-good father traded her to this greedy, powerful guy who asked her to spin straw into gold or he’ll kill her. He even locked her in the room with a huge pile of it like she’s some kind of pack animal.

I already told you I’m a nice guy with an eye for a deal. She offered me a ring and so I turned the straw into gold. Not to toot my own horn, but I didn’t even need the spinning wheel. Though that certainly added to the showmanship of the whole thing.

Needless to say, everybody was pleased with this deal at first. The lady got to stay alive, though weirdly she stayed with the guy who locked her up. The powerful guy got a bunch of gold, and I got a ring and a safe place to hide. Not a bad deal all around.

But of course that only lasted for all of five minutes because powerful guys who get rich pretty much always want to get richer. So the lady’s locked back up again and begging for help. I did my thing in exchange for a necklace— literally the last thing she had except the clothes on her back. Next thing I know, she’s married to the rich guy and yet there’s still more straw to spin. Ladies really have questionable judgement.

I started to realize I didn’t know how much longer I could hide out here before the poltergeist comes to find me. Questionable judgement aside, this lady was just trying to live her life and if she got to be a rich lady while doing it, who am I to judge? I didn’t want to spend my life supplying her with gold, so I needed a way out that wasn’t going to get her into trouble. A softie, I know.

Suddenly it hit me- I could get the poltergeist what he wanted and keep this lady comfortable. She had to spin this whole warehouse of straw into gold and I agreed to do it in exchange for her firstborn. The lady barely thinks about it before agreeing seeing as she didn’t have a kid yet.

Next thing you know, she’s knocked up and having second thoughts. A kid wasn’t worth much to me, but a deal is a deal. Believe me, I’m far less threatening than any poltergeist.

Me and my bleeding heart. I felt a little bit bad. I gave her an out. She had three days to guess my name and she tried her hardest, too— with no luck. On the third day, I’m dancing around the fire, promising the poltergeist his kid within the hour, really hyping myself up and trilling my name to the stars and anybody who’d hear it.

You know the rest of the story, Agent. You were there. I went to collect the kid, get the poltergeist off my back, and lo and behold? That’s my name in her mouth.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” she said, smug as anything.

I lost my temper, bust my foot, and you guys took me in for throwing off the value of gold.

So you see, it’s not me you want. None of this would have happened without that poltergeist. You want his name? Nah, you won’t catch me snitching. On the other hand, I’ve always had an eye for a deal. What will you give me if I tell you?