satire

Local Magazine Publisher Arrested After Attempted Bank Robbery in Salt Lake City

A Utah magazine publisher was arrested after attempting to rob a bank in a desperate move to save his financially failing publication.

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Bob Dankquist, Utah magazine publisher arrested after attempted bank robbery

Bob Dankquist, 67, once the proud publisher of Utah Now & Then, was arrested Friday afternoon after attempting — and spectacularly failing — to rob a High Desert Bank branch on Wasatch Boulevard. His motive? To save the free local magazine he had dedicated his life to, and which, despite its popularity, was financially strangled by a generation addicted to “free content” and influencer marketing.

“I just wanted to keep it going,” Bob reportedly told police. “Thirty years of building something Utahns loved — and I couldn’t even get a dollar out of them.”

For decades, Utah Now & Then had been a beloved fixture on coffee shop counters and dentist office tables, filled with stories celebrating Utah’s quirky history, local artists, and mom-and-pop shops. Dankquist received daily emails from readers praising the publication as “a gem” and “the only magazine I actually read.”

But when he emailed these same readers asking if they’d pay even $1 for an issue, the support dried up faster than the Great Salt Lake. “I love your work, but I really think it should stay free,” one reader replied while waiting for his $7 latte at Starbucks drive-through.

Local businesses were no better. They all were reaching out to be written about. “Every time we featured a small business, their sales went up. I’d ask if they wanted to advertise, help cover printing costs. They’d say, ‘Oh, we already spent our budget for this year on social media influencers.’ People who take selfies with sandwiches!” Bob said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“And the worst of all were the PR people. They all wanted free promotion, like I should work for nothing while they get paid. And when they pretended to be content providers offering to ‘help’ my website — oh, that really made my blood boil,” Bob said.

Bob was frequently asked, “Have you ever considered going non-profit? Applying for grants might be a great way to get funding.” 

Bob’s “journalistic integrity” always prevented him from begging Utah’s billionaires for money when he knew they would likely want to slant the journalism in their favor. “You can’t have a working-class magazine if you are getting paid by the elites,” he maintained.

As his magazine’s finances crumbled, Bob remortgaged his house to cover the wages of his two loyal employees, who had stuck with him since the ‘90s. His wife, fed up with the mounting debt, left. She took their dog, Rascal, and, in a final act of poetic cruelty, flung Bob’s grandmother’s heirloom ring at him as she walked out the door.

Alone, broke, and edging toward homelessness, Bob decided there was only one option left. “I binge-watched Ocean’s Eleven, Heat, Inside Man and The Town as well as a few episodes of America’s Dumbest Criminals for balance. I figured I could pull this off.”

He pawned his grandmother’s ring, bought a battered handgun from a shady secondhand dealer, and masked up. With trembling hands and a heart full of misplaced resolve, he stormed into the bank only to find no tellers, no lines, just one glass encased office where a young man in a BYU t-shirt was enjoying Casual Friday as he scrolled through TikTok at his desk.

“Hands up! Give me all your cash!” Bob yelled, trying to sound tough. 

The banker glanced up and laughed. “Is this, like, a hidden camera thing?”

Humiliated and frustrated, Bob waved the gun in the air but fumbled with its safety, realizing too late he didn’t actually know how to use it. The banker’s smirk pushed him over the edge. Bob hurled the gun at him. It missed, shattering the glass office wall.

The banker calmly dialed 911. “Yeah, I’ve got a senior citizen here trying to rob the place. No, no one’s hurt. Just … confused.”

When police arrived, they found Bob seated on the floor, weeping.

“At least in prison I’ll get a bed and a hot meal,” he sobbed. “Maybe I can start a prison paper. Cellblock Chronicle or something.”

The incident has since gone viral on social media, where influencers posted reactions like, “OMG, this would’ve been a killer reel!” and “He should’ve live-streamed it — missed opportunity.” 

A spokesperson for High Desert Bank declined to comment, except to say, “We encourage everyone to explore lawful financial options.”

Meanwhile, loyal readers of Utah Now & Then have started an online petition to “Keep Bob’s magazine alive.” So far donations amount to $12.43.

To donate go HERE.

*Photo by Daria Trofimova on Unsplash

*Editor’s Note: This article is a work of satire and is intended for entertainment and commentary purposes only. While it may reference real places or echo real events, the characters and situations are fictionalized for humor and reflection. At Utah Stories, we believe that sometimes the absurd reveals more truth than the facts alone.

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