Fiver interrupted his burgling (ever wonder what you'd do?)

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I was out scouting a trail for this weekend’s hash, then bought some groceries, then headed home. I know many of my friends hang out at Gravity Pub on Thursday nights, so I decided to stop by on my way home.

I pulled in to the parking lot behind Gravity and saw my friend David’s Miata (for those keeping score, this wasn’t my ex-roommate, but a different David) and David standing behind the car and rummaging in the back seat. I parked next to him, then got out.

Even as I opened my mouth to greet David, I realized two things: 1) Miatas don’t have a back seat, and you can’t “rummage” behind the front seat with the top up, and 2) this was a tall, slender black man, and David is neither tall nor black.

“Hey!” I shouted, “That’s not your car!” He ran away. I chased him as far as the corner, but when I got there he was nowhere in sight.

I went back to the cars and saw that David’s rear window was hanging loose. I don’t know Miatas well, so I didn’t know if it was something you could just unzip or if it was really damaged. David needs to be told, I thought, so I walked up the street and around the corner to Gravity Pub.

David was there. “I just chased off some guy breaking into your car,” I told him, and beckoned him to come back and take a look. He wasn’t very concerned, because he keeps nothing of value in his car, but he followed me back out.

We got back to the parking lot just in time to see the same guy with his head in the passenger-side window of my car! “Hey!” I shouted again, “Get away from there!” He fled, taking several of my grocery bags with him.

At this moment, I believe, my consciousness evaporated and I acted purely on instinct. If any thoughts at all passed through my head, they were he has my stuff and he can’t have my stuff! I ran after him.

“You fucking asshole!” I yelled. “Come back here!” He didn’t (surprise, surprise), but he did drop two of the three grocery bags.

He was faster than me and was soon out of sight (just like the first time). I have no idea what I’d have done if I’d caught him. Probably gotten the shit beaten out of me. The fact that I was bold enough to chase him, rather than cower in fear, gives me no comfort whatsoever. It just tells me that I’m likely to get myself killed if I’m ever in a similar situation where my adversary has a gun.

David and I collected the dropped groceries. He only got away with a bag of flour (79 cents) and a loaf of bread (less than $2). I was very very very relieved to find that the machete I’d been knocking down briars and weeds with was still on the front seat. That’s one potentially deadly weapon that’s still accounted for.

The damage to the window will probably be $300 or more for me, and David will likely have to replace his Miata’s entire rag to the tune of a grand or more (we both have high deductibles). God, people suck.

Of course we called the police and I described the ~6’2, ~180 lb. medium-dark-skinned black man wearing the red t-shirt and plaid shorts to them, but this is such a common occurrence in my neighborhood they didn’t even send an officer out. They gave me a case number, and I can get copies of the records next Wednesday at City Hall East. Whoop de fucking do.

Tell me of a place where this doesn’t happen. Mayberry? Hooterville? Chattanooga? I’ll move there.

2

[ul][li]Get the machette []hide in teh bushes next to your car[]hope he comes back…[/ul][/li]my $0.02

3

[ul][]ignore typos[]don’t drink and post[]damn that sucks[]high deductables blow (mine is $500, so I feel your pain)[/ul]

4

Come to Mechanicsburg, PA. Two little bastards came around slashing tires in town about 4 months ago. They got three of mine.

I got the last laugh, though. Around here punks like that are extraordinarily stupid. They cut up the town and then just trolled around town at 4 a.m. with the headlights off on their car! Like the cops wouldn’t notice or something.

Anyway, those little weasels got caught big time and are now liable to me for 250 big ones. I consider it to be a bonus, like a tax return. At least I’m getting paid, though.

My point is, if you like low crime and the probability of recompense when you are victimized, get the hell out of the city and move to Redneckville, USA.

My .02.

5

I’ve had to scare them away from burgling houses around me.
I don’t know if I would have charged a person, but standing there yelling at them gets their attention and encourages them to move on.

JPD (Jackson, MS) is very relaxed about any crime below murder. If it’s a mere robbery, forget it. Carjacking? Hope they give you back. Car stolen? Forget it, just replace the thing, JPD won’t get caught dead actually doing work to find it. They’ve had 12 police Chiefs in 10 years and it shows.

Oh, and the only reason they solve murders around here is 90% of the time it’s either Domestic (one spouse whacks the other one) or Gang/Drug, and everyone knows who the deceased ran with.

And while I feel sorry for the men and women who are stuck working in the Jackson Police Department, as a police force they suck, big time. About the only way you’re guaranteed a conviction or anything around here is pray it gets federal attention.

6

Actually, Fiver, I think acting out of instinct can be a GOOD thing. You probably didn’t realize that you assessed the situation, didn’t see a weapon, and felt it was appropriate to chase him off. He was already running away, right? Clearly a sign that he wasn’t up for a confrontation.

I don’t think this is any indication that if a different crime occurred, you would have taken on an armed, violent opponent. I think ya done good! Maybe this creep won’t be so bold next time, now that he knows that people WON’T just hand over their property without a struggle.

-L

7

That’s insane! Oh, and I’d like to officially second thinksnow’s suggestion. :wink:

8

Minot, North Dakota

The biggest crime here is when two local youths decided to vandalize a few trees in a rural part of town with some toilet paper. It made the papers. Woo . . .
Tripler
But I still pack heat.

9

My window is fixed. It was easier and cheaper than I’d guessed; I didn’t have to go to the dealership. Roving bands of auto-glass repairmen prowl the streets of the city, and one of them came right to my house and replaced the window for $175. He even vacuumed all the shards out.

I’m a little less angry and frustrated today. I knew this neighborhood was marginal when I moved here, and this is the only mischief I’ve suffered in over two years. Goes with the territory. It’s probably not worth it to move to Minot. Still…

Oh, I forgot to mention last night that Gravity Pub is a friendly Cheers-like community bar where everybody knows your name and every sort of person hangs out there…including big friendly bikers.

While David and I, and some other friends, were in the back lot talking to the police on a cellphone, a gangful of these guys on their hogs drove past us down the street.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“They’re going to look for the guy,” was the answer.

I set down the cellphone. “Red shirt! Red shirt!” I screamed after the receding motorcycles.

I didn’t see them again last night, but it comforts me to imagine they found him, dragged him to an abandoned house and smashed him through the drywall a few times.

10

That sucks, man. Sorry to hear it. Anyway, I was reading, and I misread this line:

I guess I would be the only one keeping score, but I was skimming what you wrote, and I thought you were saying it WAS your ex-roommate David. I called him to ask him how his car was. Then I realized that I F’ed up. Oh well.

Sorry to hear about your car. And I don’t think it’s bad that you chased him. I would glady beat someones ass who broke into my car, the only problem is that 99.6% of the earth’s population can outrun me.

11

mouthbreather:

You’re not the only one keeping score, but you’re the only one here (as far as I know) who knows my ex-roommate. I bet he was confused; I haven’t yet told him about my break-in.

Well, the problem for me in this case was that the perp looked bigger and stronger than me, and if I’d caught him he could’ve pushed me through a sheet of drywall. So chasing him was contraindicated. The race is not always to the swift…

12

We should go sit in the bushes next week and wait for him next week. Then when we catch him in the act, you go chase him. I’ll start chasing him also, and by the time you catch him, I should be there sooner or later. Say, about 5 or 6 minutes for every 50 feet that you have to chase him down. Then he can throw you through a couple sheets of drywall (what is it with you and this post and throwing people through drywall, anyway?) I should be there before you get seriously injured, and I’ll lay a righteous ass whipping on him.

Whaddya say? We could make this a weekly thing. Like low-rent guardian angels.

I’ll go call the beret company.

13

Thet can come in real handy. An afterthought, get all this info to the head honcho at Gravity. Or the Head Hog Man. The biggest rule of all is don’t mess with a biker’s bike, but there are always numbnuts who don’t know that rule. They may post a guard on a rotating basis to keep their iron horses safe, and even that fast mo’fo wouldn’t outrun Mr. 9mm.

Trip, I used to keep heat in the car when I was in GA, don’t have my CCW here in SoFla yet. It is now tucked into the bedframe next to me at night.

Fiver Very cool about the low cost replacement! God Bless unlicensed contractors!

14

mouthbreather:

Much as I hate to dampen your enthusiasm, I must confess reluctance to embrace any scenario that includes me plunging through even one sheet of drywall.

However, the concept of an Atlanta Dopefest or mini-Dopefest at Gravity has undeniable appeal. We can all park in front on the street (where the bikers put their hogs, UncleBill, and that’s why no one fucks with them), drink a couple of 420s, then walk back to my house, log on and write a group post.

Yes, you all read that right: I live within walking distance of Gravity Pub. I would never drive there or need to park under ordinary circumstances. That’s what makes this experience so frustrating.

15

I’m up for another night of beers, whenever.