When the Law wins....

Becoming a thief can shorten your days quicker than fires that burn out of control. At some point in time when you fight the Law, the Law always wins.


Jack was the best thief I knew. He was quick and crafty. He seemed to get away with anything. Somehow he could walk out of a convenience store not with just a pack a cigarettes, but literally a whole carton. I wanted to be a good thief like him. I started with candy, figured out magazine swiping, and eventually learned to walk out of several music stores with 3 or 4 tapes at a time. Once you get away with something small, something bigger seems to loom over you until you make your bold move.

I eventually got bold. I stole 2 shotguns out of a pick up one night. The next day I took them out hunting in the city limits. Within an hour I was busted. A police helicopter swept down to the open field my friend and I were walking through. We dropped the guns and held our hands up while two other squad cars rolled down announcing through the intercom, "keep your hands up." At age 15 I received my first felony charge, six months probation, and 50 hours community service. Those were the end of my days seeking to be a professional thief like Jack. Yet the story had one last chapter before my soul would venture a new path.


Jack took bold to another level. He could break into a vehicle and steal a stereo in less than a minute, sell it the next day, and have what he wanted in his hands in no time. One day he was not so lucky and found himself in the back of a police car. The authorities determined he needed immediate time in a juvenile detention center. But on the way to the squad car to be escorted there without hand cuffs, Jack stomped the foot of the officer and ran. They stormed after him, but he vanished. He robbed them of their dignity and patience and Jack became "wanted," marked as a dangerous fugitive.

That was about the time I got the call from Jack. He wanted to stay at my house and hide "until things blew over." I thought, "what a blast, of course!"

Jack stayed in my basement. It was a natural hiding place for a fugitive. There were piles of junk everywhere and it was hard to walk around without breaking an antique. I fed him meals from my Mom's fridge and gave him anything he needed. Like a new undomesticated pet, my goal was to keep him alive and out of harm's way. That would not last long.

Jack had connections to "gold," (marijuana laced with PCP). For the next week, we stole our way into the action. Every night we snuck out with my Mom's car and found some crazy party with dangerous people and dealers. We seemed to be dodging one bullet after another with close calls ranging from overdosing on drugs to Jack stirring up trouble with people we would have to run from.

Where was my Mom? Until this point she was oblivious, until she noticed cash disappearing from her purse and Jack. She noticed Jack was sneaking around and never going home. She found out Jack's mother's name, called her, and that was the end.

We were hanging out on a Friday afternoon in the basement when the FBI pounded on the front door. They crashed in as my sister stood by bewildered. They yelled, "FBI! We're coming for Jack." I raced Jack under the stairs and under a pile of junk. A mob of footsteps came pounding down the stairs sealing our doom. They barged through the basement door. I was standing, petrified with my hands up.
They shouted, "where's Jack?"
I said, "I don't know."
We have the right to arrest you if you are aiding a fugitive and concealing his whereabouts," they shot back.
I quickly shifted my eyes in the direction where Jack was hiding. He was arrested and this time carried away. I never saw Jack again after that day.

Many years later after God had caught up to me, similarly to how the FBI searched for Jack, I looked to find him again. I wanted to tell Jack my story. I wanted to give him rest for his soul. I wanted to provide him with the "gold" I know our souls ultimately longed for those reckless nights but had never found.  When I finally found someone who knew where Jack was, I was informed that he had passed away from alcohol poisoning the year prior.

Jack provided a window for me into a darkness I am fortunate to have missed. Yet It would prove to be a gateway for my soul's new journey further into the dark .