The weekend before last, my friend Sam and I decided to head out of the city. We grabbed our… The weekend before last, my friend Sam and I decided to head out of the city. We grabbed our pipes, some tobacco, made a few tuna sandwiches, and were on our way to Beam’s Rock, an old high school retreat of mine on Laurel Mountain, about ninety minutes east of Oakland.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Here is a tale of thievery and vengeance in which the law should have played no part.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ The drive was good. In the stretches past Ligonier, the trees bowed over the road, creating a canopy that’s especially beautiful in the fall. Once on the rocks, we relaxed for a while but when we heard the friends who were supposed to meet us would be about an hour late, we decided to hike around for a bit to pass the time.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ We stuffed all that we had into Sam’s fairly nice backpack: a jar of mayonnaise, some bread, my journal, my pipes and my keys. We then hid the bag in some bushes and went to explore the area. We climbed around, then returned to find a family on the main face. We talked with them about Pitt and then went to grab the bag, which was gone.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ There had been a couple on the rock when the family arrived. When they left, the family said, the man — a tall, blonde guy with camouflage pants on — walked into the bushes and grabbed a bag. They had assumed it was his. This wasn’t too long ago, so Sam and I ran down the trail after them.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ On the way, we passed our friends, who had just seen the couple leave. When we got to the parking area, they were gone, but they were nice/stupid enough to leave my keys on a rock by my car. Sam and I jumped in and sped after them, leaving skid marks in the gravel lot. It only took a few minutes, going 70 mph on windy, gravel roads, to catch up with a car holding a couple. The man matched the description given to us by the family.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ I swung my car in front of them to cut them off. We got out, walked up to their window and explained that someone had stolen our bag. We asked if they could pop their trunk to prove that it wasn’t them. The man would later claim to be frightened and confused at this point. He said, ‘No,’ he didn’t know what we were talking about, and began to roll up his window. I put my hands on top of the window. As he began to drive away, I yelled at him and pulled down on the window. It shattered. Glass flew everywhere, and blood began to trickle down my hands.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ We got back into the car and began to trail them. I called 911 and read them the license plate number. They said they’d send an officer to the scene. Just before the main road, I flew around and cut them off once again, better this time. Sam said, ‘I just want my bag back,’ and the man, a bit flustered, replied, ‘All right, I did find a bag.’ And, sure enough, there in the trunk was Sam’s bag.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Things should have ended there. They stole from us; we got back what was stolen. Things were basically resolved. We could have climbed around for longer, and I wouldn’t have had to be late for work. But, they called the police over the broken window, and our officer was already on his way.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ What followed was the mundane tediousness of formalities. We needed two officers, seeing as the theft occurred in the woods and the property damage on the road. They were separate offenses. One officer bandaged my hands, and the other explained that a refusal to pay for the window on my part would lead to a criminal mischief charge and a $380 fine. And as cool as it would be to be officially mischievous, I didn’t need that. Were Sam to counter with the theft charge, then we would all have to come back out there to work it out in court.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ One of the officers complained of us calling him out towards the end of his shift, and when I expressed my confusion over being threatened with a charge, considering the circumstances, he explained that it was I who called him to look at my trouble. He didn’t volunteer to be there.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ Eventually, I agreed to pay half the cost of the window. The officer explained that Sam had two years to file the theft charge but added that any attempt to do so at so late a date would make him mad, and he would find every possible charge to throw at us.

‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ I’m not going to say that cops suck. In general, I think we’d all agree, they’re pretty useful. But, it should be remembered that, when it comes down to it, they act more like people than instruments of the law. They, like most members of bureaucracies, are more likely to act or not act due to boredom or frustration than due to the grand principles they’re supposed to enforce. And because of this, more often than not, they bring more confusion than resolution.

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