So, today had me headed to the Brunswick County Courthouse. Several months ago, the next door neighbor handed me a business card and told me the police had arrested two boys at my house. When I called, the officer told me they had received a call that two boys were trying to break in and had been arrested. I thanked the officer and said that was great, they should have been arrested for that.
A couple days later I got a call giving me two names I didn’t recognize, and I think at that time I said I would cooperate in pursuing the matter. Well, come to find out, I did know one of the boys. He’d been in my home several times (and has been several times since). But he goes by his middle name, and that’s the only one I know.
I’d been troubled over what to do since I found out who the one boy was. But time went by, and I didn’t hear anything, so I stopped fretting. Then right before Christmas, I got a subpoena from the state to appear today. I still didn’t know last night what I could say except that I wasn’t home so I didn’t see anything, and that all the teens who hang out at my house have blanket permission to come by any time. And this is the truth.
But when I woke up this morning, I had another thought. What about the second boy, the one I didn’t know? I haven’t heard another word about him. Not one. So, once I found the young man I was called to testify against, I asked him about his compatriot. No, he wasn’t there, and had not been charged with attempted breaking and entering. So then I leaned over and asked the thing that had really been behind most of my thoughts all morning. “What color is he?” I asked “White,” was the answer, and it was what I had expected.
I ended up signing papers to dismiss the charges against the brown kid I do know, but I sure am curious why the white kid I don’t know wasn’t charged. I did find out tonight that he was charged with public drunkenness. But that’s not quite the same as attempted B&E is it? Especially when the neighbor who gave me the policeman’s card told me “the big guy, the dark one, he just sat on the steps.”
Anyway, after court I knew I needed to do something about the truly awful shimmy in my van. I figured I needed an alignment and a couple of tires, although the tires weren’t pressing, as three of them only have 30,000 miles on them. I stopped at Wal-Mart, because I needed to do some other shopping, but they don’t do alignments. So, I went to a local place that does do alignments, and when the mechanic walked out he said “there’s your problem right there,” and pointed to my front driver side tire. It was bulging and wires from the busted radial were poking through the (plenty of) tread. And they don’t actually have the tires there, they have to order them. They’d be here tomorrow. Yes, I could make it back to Wal-Mart, “but take care, you know.”
Back at Wal-Mart, I asked for two front tires and an oil change. That went well until they got ready to change the tire my daughter had replaced a few months ago. That tire, which she and her boyfriend got from the local pick and pull, was the wrong size rim. We tried for a while to find one locally. The dealership offered to sell me a rim for $399 and some change. Hahahahaahhaah, NO. In the end, Wal-Mart ordered one for me for less than $70, and it should be here tomorrow, at which time I can go back for the second front tire. The rims won’t match, but they haven’t matched for months, so whatever. The odd-sized tire will become the spare. The tread is still fine, and it’s better than a doughnut, right?
This is a cautionary tale. Both my daughter and I assumed the problems were coming from the used replacement tire. We’d each checked it. Neither of us even thought to check the other tires.
So, today’s morals are: arrest everybody and check allllllllll the tires.
I hope you did the right thing. the boys who broke in my mama’s house and who I suspect trashed mine had been frequent guests. they ate at my table many times. just because you know them doesn’t mean you really know them.
I hope so, too. If I had been home, it might have gone differently. But all I would have been able to say is “yes, that’s my house,” “I wasn’t home,” and “I had told him he was welcome to come by anytime, and my daughter told me he was waiting on her to get home.”
It was the selective prosecution that really pissed me off.