Ahhh, youth. One school night when I was 15, 4 upper classmen (OMG! Seniors!) stopped by and asked if I wanted to go whack mailboxes. Me? Hells, yeah!
And we did. Every one got a turn in the front passenger seat with a baseball bat except me. Time ran out and I had to be home. I never did a thing.
Those knuckleheads though, went to the store, bought eggs, and went back to the same neighborhood we just left. Where the cops were waiting on them.:eek:
They went to jail, and one of more of them ratted me out, and the next day a Postal Inspector came to the house. Not a good meeting. The worst part was when my mom had me call my grandfather and tell him about it. The retired Postal Inspector.
Before court, we all went back and repaired or replaced all the boxes - about 4 bucks apiece back then. We got a few hours of community service, not a nickel in Joliet.
I’m glad for that, 'cause I can’t go to prison, man.
Years later, I laid it all out on my LEO app, and explained it, and it was no big deal.
I was in a detail assigned to guard Jesse Jackson back when he was a presidential candidate visiting Atlanta, and the Secret Service goes over everyone with a microscope, and they didn’t seem to care; I can’t imagine the bar is so concerned with youthful [del]felonies[/del] indiscretions, but I suppose I can understand…
I have laid open my past as a cautionary tale for my kids so they don’t do the stupid shit I did. My son’s goal is to work for the FBI, and so far he’s good!