Archive of Past News of the Farm:
Crime Doesn't Pay July 31, 2011 |
Crime Doesn't Pay
July 31, 2011
Greetings Friends of the Farm,
...but it does cost, approximately $180 for lucky us, and an inestimable community cost to tax payers. And then there is the disappointing karmic cost to our belief in the goodness of man.... However, you might ask, what does the theft of a farmer's truck have to do with farming? In a way, almost everything....
Larry's taking Big Blanco, to a car wash. Like a rape victim, all he can think about is washing -- expunging -- any dab, any drizzle left behind by the thief who stole his truck. He wants to eradicate the smelly essence of spilled beer, adrenaline, drugs, soda pops. This may be possible as Blanco is a basic model...plastic seats and floor coverings, no carpeting, no frills of any kind. And no comprehensive insurance.
(The robber should have been able to see that Larry was in the office, eight feet from him...)
Suddenly,
Larry realized that the someone was driving HIS truck. The someone
accidentally turned on the ceiling light and 150 feet away Larry could
make out his profile....Back to the house he ran, instructed me to call
911, grabbed the Prius key and took off after the crook.
While I talked to the dispatcher, telling her to look for the two white vehicles, Larry returned, having lost someone past his turn onto Cherico St., but having been successful in flagging down a police officer (who actually had been to our farm) who alerted other patrolmen to join the search. Meanwhile neighbor Mark came over to commiserate on our misfortune, and police came to write up the report.
After those formalities, in proper frontier style, we also took to the streets, but failing to find someone, we returned home. Another friend came over to say that Mark was at a nearby convenience store, and our truck drove right by! Mark knew it was Larry's, as one of the defining features was the "Ron Paul"sticker on the back window. We were elated! (Oddly. At least the truck was staying in the hood and not already on the highway to Mexico, so there was hope.)
Mark gave chase, while at the same time, talking to the 911 dispatcher! The crook noticed Mark and took advantage of Blanco's ability to leap ahead at 60 MPH, like some sort of farm gazelle, down the narrow East Austin streets. But soon, a low rider cut in between them, insisting on riding the speed limit -- as you know, being low to the ground, he didn't want any bumps and bangs -- and so, not willing to pass him, Mark lost the trail.
So, we neighbors retired to have a Fireman 4 local beer to calm our nerves, and leave the truck's fate to the professionals, who now had a helicopter in the air plus multiple squad cars traversing the roads. We could only imagine that the police officers were pumped! As our son, their former comrade told us, "They LOVE stolen-car cases!!" Especially this one: the urban farm 400 feet from the East Austin police station, the sneaky criminal so comfortable in his actions, the fact that the farmer actually saw the theft and pursued, the neighbor who, having been previously robbed -- probably by this very suspect -- heroically joining the search while his wife waits anxiously at home...the community working together to solve the crime.
Retiring to our farm house,while the police were having a big time searching for the thief, we were asking ourselves all the appropriate questions: How was Larry to get to the other farm Monday? How would we afford a new truck when this is the worst agricultural year in 20? Would our truck have a Mexican vacation while we worked overtime to replace it? Was it already in a chop shop, being reduced pitifully to its parts? Was it just on a joy ride, with ample beer? We finally headed to bed at Midnight to continue the pondering. Who could sleep?
The phone call came at 12:30. Larry knew it was good news. Bad news usually comes at midnight, but we'd already gotten that, so this call had to be a good one! It was: The police had Blanco and the thief. Seeing the back window sticker (Ron Paul for President), they knew it was Larry's truck!
They'd caught the driver on a bathroom break (too much beer) at the Cesar Chavez/Tillery gas station. Of course he said we'd loaned him the truck. Fat chance thought the officers as they looked at his rap sheet detailing public intoxication and stealing vehicles..
As part of the procedure-- which seems a bit hard on the victim -- the truck would be towed to an impound shop and we could pick it up and pay the charges in the morning. No going just ten blocks and claiming our truck. Well, everyone has to make something out of our misfortune, right? The economy, you know.
We and the thief. Losers all. Turns out the thief was just doing his job. How in the world he came to walk down our long, dark driveway, or maybe even sneaking past neighbor Mark's back door and through our connecting bamboo-shrouded gate, in spite of our house lights being on, and zeroing in on our truck is a huge question. What chutzpa, what lack of regard for anyone, even himself. But the keys were in the ignition and so it was an easy take.
That will not happen again, Larry says. And accordingly, all the other neighbors are buttoning up their properties too. After a spell of peace, we are all on guard once again....
But kudos to Mark for daring to chase our truck, and to Larry for his quick response (and humble remorse over the key), and especially the East Austin Charlie-zone officers and dispatch! Maybe it was a slow night, but their response and determination to catch this local thief was excellent. The Ron Paul sticker was the key tip off; most thieves do not vote at all, and surely not for Ron Paul!
Larry has his truck back. And soon, it will come home clean as a whistle, perhaps with stained memories of its wild joy ride, but ready to go to the Gause farm Monday morning, to finish up the Smoke-dried Tomato smoking and make the land ready for fall planting.... And if the truck could vote, guess who it would vote for?
Carol Ann (no, not ME!)
Back ...but it does cost, approximately $180 for lucky us, and an inestimable community cost to tax payers. And then there is the disappointing karmic cost to our belief in the goodness of man.... However, you might ask, what does the theft of a farmer's truck have to do with farming? In a way, almost everything....
Larry's taking Big Blanco, to a car wash. Like a rape victim, all he can think about is washing -- expunging -- any dab, any drizzle left behind by the thief who stole his truck. He wants to eradicate the smelly essence of spilled beer, adrenaline, drugs, soda pops. This may be possible as Blanco is a basic model...plastic seats and floor coverings, no carpeting, no frills of any kind. And no comprehensive insurance.
(Big Blanco, our farm truck: who wouldn't like to joy ride in this manly fellow?)
Saturday
nights we usually stay up a bit past our 9 PM bedtime, as we don't have
to get up at 5 AM the next day. I was reading an agriculture magazine
in the living room and Larry was in the office researching saw mill
blades on the internet, when, at 9:30 PM, he heard engine noise not
eight feet away, outside the window. Heading towards the back door, he
calmly told me that something was going on and he ran quietly out into
the darkness. Someone was backing up out of the farm stand/house parking
area, and into the driveway, then going straight out to the street. (The robber should have been able to see that Larry was in the office, eight feet from him...)
While I talked to the dispatcher, telling her to look for the two white vehicles, Larry returned, having lost someone past his turn onto Cherico St., but having been successful in flagging down a police officer (who actually had been to our farm) who alerted other patrolmen to join the search. Meanwhile neighbor Mark came over to commiserate on our misfortune, and police came to write up the report.
After those formalities, in proper frontier style, we also took to the streets, but failing to find someone, we returned home. Another friend came over to say that Mark was at a nearby convenience store, and our truck drove right by! Mark knew it was Larry's, as one of the defining features was the "Ron Paul"sticker on the back window. We were elated! (Oddly. At least the truck was staying in the hood and not already on the highway to Mexico, so there was hope.)
Mark gave chase, while at the same time, talking to the 911 dispatcher! The crook noticed Mark and took advantage of Blanco's ability to leap ahead at 60 MPH, like some sort of farm gazelle, down the narrow East Austin streets. But soon, a low rider cut in between them, insisting on riding the speed limit -- as you know, being low to the ground, he didn't want any bumps and bangs -- and so, not willing to pass him, Mark lost the trail.
So, we neighbors retired to have a Fireman 4 local beer to calm our nerves, and leave the truck's fate to the professionals, who now had a helicopter in the air plus multiple squad cars traversing the roads. We could only imagine that the police officers were pumped! As our son, their former comrade told us, "They LOVE stolen-car cases!!" Especially this one: the urban farm 400 feet from the East Austin police station, the sneaky criminal so comfortable in his actions, the fact that the farmer actually saw the theft and pursued, the neighbor who, having been previously robbed -- probably by this very suspect -- heroically joining the search while his wife waits anxiously at home...the community working together to solve the crime.
Retiring to our farm house,while the police were having a big time searching for the thief, we were asking ourselves all the appropriate questions: How was Larry to get to the other farm Monday? How would we afford a new truck when this is the worst agricultural year in 20? Would our truck have a Mexican vacation while we worked overtime to replace it? Was it already in a chop shop, being reduced pitifully to its parts? Was it just on a joy ride, with ample beer? We finally headed to bed at Midnight to continue the pondering. Who could sleep?
The phone call came at 12:30. Larry knew it was good news. Bad news usually comes at midnight, but we'd already gotten that, so this call had to be a good one! It was: The police had Blanco and the thief. Seeing the back window sticker (Ron Paul for President), they knew it was Larry's truck!
They'd caught the driver on a bathroom break (too much beer) at the Cesar Chavez/Tillery gas station. Of course he said we'd loaned him the truck. Fat chance thought the officers as they looked at his rap sheet detailing public intoxication and stealing vehicles..
As part of the procedure-- which seems a bit hard on the victim -- the truck would be towed to an impound shop and we could pick it up and pay the charges in the morning. No going just ten blocks and claiming our truck. Well, everyone has to make something out of our misfortune, right? The economy, you know.
We and the thief. Losers all. Turns out the thief was just doing his job. How in the world he came to walk down our long, dark driveway, or maybe even sneaking past neighbor Mark's back door and through our connecting bamboo-shrouded gate, in spite of our house lights being on, and zeroing in on our truck is a huge question. What chutzpa, what lack of regard for anyone, even himself. But the keys were in the ignition and so it was an easy take.
That will not happen again, Larry says. And accordingly, all the other neighbors are buttoning up their properties too. After a spell of peace, we are all on guard once again....
But kudos to Mark for daring to chase our truck, and to Larry for his quick response (and humble remorse over the key), and especially the East Austin Charlie-zone officers and dispatch! Maybe it was a slow night, but their response and determination to catch this local thief was excellent. The Ron Paul sticker was the key tip off; most thieves do not vote at all, and surely not for Ron Paul!
Larry has his truck back. And soon, it will come home clean as a whistle, perhaps with stained memories of its wild joy ride, but ready to go to the Gause farm Monday morning, to finish up the Smoke-dried Tomato smoking and make the land ready for fall planting.... And if the truck could vote, guess who it would vote for?
Carol Ann (no, not ME!)