Smashed

When I was attending criminal justice classes on the G.I. Bill, I worked part-time security. Late one evening, I noticed a black Firebird across the street in a mini-mall parking lot. It was moving slowly forward, without lights, towards the buildings. Suddenly it crashed into the front glass windows of a closed business. Almost half of the car was in the building when a bell alarm stated going off. It attracted patrons of the local corner pizza parlor, the only thing open at that time.

The car started to back up, slowly turned and still without lights, went through the parking lot and onto the adjoining street. I came out to the sidewalk and saw it disappear down the street. Immediately afterwards, a two-man sheriff's car careened around the corner and came to a stop in the middle of the street. I stepped forward and said, "The vehicle you want is right in front of you on this street". As if on cue, the Firebird's brake lights came on, over a quarter of a mile ahead, just enough to alert the deputies, who pursued it up the road. A minute later, another two-man sheriff's car arrived, looking for the first deputies on the scene. Again, I stepped out and explained that they'd pursued the Firebird that had run into the building.

A few minutes later, a third sheriff's car showed up, but thankfully they went straight to the store to secure the scene. They were shortly followed by a highway patrol car and the first deputies on the scene. I went over to see what was happening, and saw that the highway patrol officers had two guys handcuffed, slumped down in the back seat. The four deputies had done a felony car stop on them, but they were so drunk, they didn't respond and had to be forcefully removed from the Firebird! It turned out they were friends of some of the pizza parlor patrons, who had seen me talking to the deputies earlier. I simply kept my distance, made a few observations and inquiries and went home feeling good about the part I played that night.