Living off the Victims
I was hitting the local pawnshops today, everyone within about 50 miles, looking for two of my guitars our favorite drug addict down the road stole from me. The island cops know who stole them, I know who stole them …. And apparently that’s enough for them. But it doesn’t really work for me.
The pawnshop I went to first knew my thief — even went to school with him. And yeah, he comes in fairly frequently, no doubt with half my neighbors’ goods. Looking around the shop, I realized that what we have here is a legal ‘fencing’ operation. You don’t have a serial number on that stereo or television set or rifle or jewelry, well, it’s just not possible to say definitively that item is yours, sir. You see our predicament.
Okay, I see someone’s predicament. I got cops who have caught my thief with stolen goods more than once, but don’t haul him in. I got pawnshops taking in those goods and reselling them. I got a guy in my neighborhood who needs money for heroin. I guess the predicament is all mine.
Two Toke Tom tells me I’m too materialistic, too hung up on my possessions. “You got nothing, you got nothing to lose,” he intones, smiling his Cheshire Cat grin.
“Won’t be long at this rate,” I reply, knowing I don’t have a whole lot worth stealing. Old TV, 50 year old stereo, lawnmower on its last legs, camera maybe, computer. Maybe I should just have a garage sale and save my burglar any further effort.
We’ve had more than a couple of addicts on the South End lately. 90% of the crime. I say give them their fix. Make it legal, dispense it at the clinic, provide clean syringes. The war on drugs? We lost it long ago. I’m running the white flag up the chimney. The cops already have. And yeah, sure, I’ll feel sorry for the pawn boys. But … you can see my predicament, can’t you?
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Glad you’re back and yes I do see your predicament. I haven’t been visited by the addicts since I lived in the central area and they stole all my (visiting) sister’s jewelry. Why she traveled with jewelry I don’t know.
Seems every time I left town and the place was left to my pot-head roomate the neighbors would break in through the window. Since I didn’t have anything to steal except maybe a jar of change, usually all I had to do when I got home was replace the windowpane.
But your story has gotten me a little paranoid. There’s a family on the corner who seem a little suspicious.
You have probably noticed by now — or will soon — the worst families live on the corners, I assume to give them easier access to the neighbors. Prey live in the middle of the block.