Anyway, the cops came at some point to break up this party. Pretty standard in the suburbs. Meaning this is not the first time he'd been at a party that was being confronted by the local 5-0. In fact it wasn't the first time he'd personally been confronted by cops (more on this later). One of these coppers left his cruiser (the lone cruiser at this point) parked in front of the house, door ajar, engine running. This was noticed by at least one person who mentioned (who knows how casually...or not?):
Will remain nameless: I will give you a hundred dollars to hop in that cop-car.
This blog's about him: Sure.*
(At this point it would probably be pertinent to mention that his drinking and petty-drug use was by this time pretty much out of control. He was twenty. But he's not the only person who has been afflicted with this problem, so it only partly explains what happened next. Impulse control, methinks, plays a starring role. Again, more on all of this later).
Maybe there has been foreshadowing in this story? What happens next should be obvious: he gets in the cruiser. That could have been where this tale ends. The only people to notice at this point were the crowd of party-goers. He could have quickly gotten in, quickly gotten out, quickly be one-hundred dollars richer. The requirements of the dare had been fulfilled.
But remember, impulse control.
So he shuts the door, puts the cruiser in gear and takes off up the street. This went from a drunk kid being a a dick (a misdemeanor if he'd even been caught) to a felony robbery, among other charges, quickly.
Let's talk about why stealing a cop car is a bad idea for a moment. A list:
- Police cars are state property.
- Police cars are very expensive and have very expensive equipment, like computers, on board.
- Police cars often have weapons, like shotguns, on board.
- Police officers confront situations where weapons are known to be present much differently than almost any other situation
- Police officers are trained to be calm and unbiased in ever situation. However, there are situations that one cannot reasonable expect these qualities from an officer.
- Being drunk underage is a crime. Underage drunk driving is two crimes. Underage drunk driving a stolen car is three crimes. Drunk driving a stolen police car is *exponential* crimes.
- Stealing is bad.
A crime of opportunity is a crime no less. Not long after he began his joyride he started looking for places to bail. Probably not a bad idea. Not far from the house, and scene of the crime, and in the direction he was driving was a patch of woods. So he decided to ditch the car and run into the woods. One would have to assume that at this point the adrenaline was starting to wear off and panic was beginning to set in. But if you're impulsive enough to steal a cop car do you even know what panic is? So maybe it was common sense that started to set in. Or survival instincts. Or a sense of duty to get away in order to be able to tell an "You'll never believe with what I got away with" story. Whatever it was, he made the decision to ditch and run into the woods.**
If this story was being written as a novel the next chapter would be titled: Instant Karma. During the foot chase, and yes it is both ironic and funny that the official police report would have to describe it as such, the pursuing officers called for what is called back-up (in lamens terms, in police parlance it's probably some number combo). For a chase through the woods on foot more officers would be helpful, but not astronomically so. For a chase through the woods you need air-support, foxtrot: a helicopter. As embarrassing as this crime was for the officers involved one would assume they couldn't call for a helicopter.The crime just wasn't that great. But if there happen to be one already in the area; maybe one that had just finished supporting officers at a crime scene right around the corner at the local 7-11; asking for air-support in that situation would be warranted. That was indeed the situation.
Things start to get really weird for him at this point:
This blog's about him (inner thoughts, perhaps out-loud): A helicopter? Are those police dogs? They know I'm in the woods of course they want police dogs. It's got to be a news chopper. Where are my fucking shoes, shit. I'll ditch my shirt, throw off the dogs scent trail. Shit, which way was the house. Back, back the other way. Did I put the car in park?
Yes, somehow he lost both his shoes and his shirt (maybe or maybe not for the reasons speculated about above). He was shirtless and shoeless. At some point he was crawling. Eventually he finds his way to a backyard, not the backyard of the party-house however. Because of the tall fences and the fear of, ironically, looking sketchy, he doesn't start hopping fences in order to make it back to were he thinks the house it. He simply struts out to the sidewalk in front of the house and starts walking down the street. The police don't seem to notice him (he thinks) they being busy in the woods still. It's dark out and there are party-goers everywhere so he thinks he can blend in, shoelessness and shirtlessness aside. He calmly walks towards what he now knows is the party-house, what he thinks will be a safe-haven. The cops can't raid the house for him, and at this point he's prepared to hide for days. He's so close he starts to pick up his pace.
It doesn't come out until much later that the previously discussed police helicopter had spotted him soon after he emerged from the woods. As the distance from the woods to the house is not very far, he gets a significant head-start. It takes a few minutes for the police to coordinate and emerge from the woods themselves. He makes it to the house, but is now acutely aware of the heavy boots stomping behind him. The flashlights are swarming. For some reason he decides the back-door is the best option. He bolts for it and not a moment too soon because he knows he's been spotted, he's being chased. But they can't follow him into the house, he thinks.
The backdoor is locked.
The helicopter was instant-karma. The backdoor some other karmic debt.
The disappointment of the door being locked hadn't even worn off before the cops had him on the ground. Running again wasn't an option.
The cops were, understandably, pissed off. The Sargent that was now involved in the pursuit was apparently so angry he swiftly kicked the suspect (our protagonist) in the face, right above the left eye, leaving a gash that required several staples. In his mugshot he looks awful and the scar is still there today. But he was not, and is still not in a position to complain. Stealing a cop car is an absolutely fucking stupid thing to do. Not too mention it being completely fucking avoidable.
Obviously, he was arrested. The legal and family drama that ensued is a blog-post, or two, in themselves.
More on all of this later.
*This story is true. However, it has only been relayed to your dear storyteller by the person of interest in the story (who, to this point has been referred to as 'him' or 'he'). How he responded to the 'dare' has never actually been discussed and it is unlikely that it would ever be accurately remembered anyway. "Sure" will have to suffice.
**During his joy-ride, and he doesn't remember when or how, he breaks the on-board computer.
Expensive mistake.
