Looking back on when I was a little nappy headed boy…
…there was this mean old lady that lived across the street. She used to always tell us kids to be quiet. None of us liked her. So we were all glad when she moved.
One summer afternoon, Daryl (who lived in the townhouse next door to her), Bill, and I were hanging out in Daryl’s backyard. Bored and curious, we decide to go to the mean old lady’s old house and peak through the window. Why? Because it’s summer. And we were 13. Duh!
As we approach the sliding glass door, I tugged on the handle just to see if it’s unlocked. And low-and-behold…the door just slides open.
Daryl stops…he looks scared. Bill has a gleeful look of exploration about him. I’m down for whatever.
So we do what 13 year olds do. We roll up in there with the quickness. We explore the empty house. No lights. No A/C. It’s hot. But who cares? We have a summertime clubhouse we can claim as our own.
We get some board games from Daryl’s house and set up camp in the basement because it’s cooler. But it’s dark because there are no windows. No problem. My mother has some candles she never uses. I’ll go get them and some matches.
So now we’re walking around the basement with candles…dripping wax on the carpet. Bill thought it would be interesting to make patterns. Okay…so did I…but not as many as Bill.
Daryl started getting nervous. So did I. I was concerned that we’d burn the house down. So we talked Bill into leaving. After a couple of days, we stopped going to the house because we were board with it.
Being 13, we were grossly unfamiliar with real estate investment strategies. We thought, if you move from the house, then you’re obviously not coming back. Unbeknownst to us was the notion that you could move out a house and still own it.
So when the mean old lady came back to the house one night. She was infuriated to find wax drippings throughout her basement, burn marks on the carpet, and board-game pieces scattered about.
She marches next door to Daryl’s house and confronted Daryl’s mother. Daryl’s mother confronted him. All Daryl had to do was what an average 13 year old would do when confronted with potentially getting in big trouble and being on punishment for the rest of the summer…lie.
But what did Daryl do? He snitched! He ratted out me and Bill.
So the mean old lady walks across the street to my house. She confronts my mom. My mom confronts me. I thought about trying to lie my way out of it. But she told me Daryl already dropped-dime on the both of us and told the whole story.
Now I’m in a 13 year old quandary: try to lie my way out of it and risk forfeiting the rest of my summer. Or I can come clean…take my whippin’ like a man…and salvage the remaining days of my summer. So I fess up and blamed all the damage on Bill. WHAT?
But a whippin’ I did not receive. The mean old lady did something worse. She called the cops and reported a breaking and entering and vandalism.
The next day…I’m hanging out with my friends by the pool. Five-O rolls through a goes up the street and around the corner. I figure he was going to my house. Not wanting to be embarrassed…but knowing the inevitability of my pending arrest, I take this opportunity to earn some street cred. “They’re looking for me.” I said with this cool bad-boy smirk.
“No they’re not!” some friends chimed.
“Yes they are…watch.”
Two minutes later, the cruiser slowly drives by and stops. “Do any of you know a Heath Wiggins?”
“That’s me.” I said proudly. All my friends gasp.
The cop motions with his head to get in the car. Without looking at my friends, I pimp around the cop car and get in the passenger seat. He pulls off.
“Do you know where Bill lives?”
“Yeah, right over here.” He parks the car. We head towards Bills door.
Having been over Bill’s house thousands of times, I can tell when there’s movement in the house based on the shadows the lighting makes.
As we’re approach his house, I see movement in the windows flanking the door. Bill apparently sees me approaching with the cop because he hides himself against the interior door. I can see his shadow on the floor through the window. But the cop is behind me and doesn’t see any of this movement.
The cop knocks on the door. I’m standing behind him staring at Bill’s shadow on the floor. He’s nervous because he’s fidgeting…and I can see his shadow moving. The cop looks down…looks up…and knocks again.
Since Daryl ratted me out and I’m going down, I felt it’s only fair that Bill go down with us as well. The cop turns to me. “Do you know if he’s home?” I shrug my shoulders. I couldn’t give up my friend. Plus, I figured they’d come back and get him later.
We turn and leave Bills house and head down to the station.
At the station…they charged me with breaking and entering, took my mug shot, finger printed me, put me in lockup, and handcuffed me to the bench. But I wasn’t scared. Why? Because my mom already knew. I was more afraid of what my mom would do to me than some cop. And since she already knew…and I didn’t get a whippin’…I was good!
About 30 minutes later, I was taken into the sergeant’s office. He sternly lectured me about why what I did was wrong. I tried to explain that because the door was unlocked…I technically wasn’t breaking…I was just entering. That defense didn’t fly.
The sergeant ended his stern lecture with a plea deal. “If you write me a 5 page essay on what breaking and entering is and why you should never do it again, then I’ll drop all the charges.”
“Deal!”
One week later, I took my 5 page essay to the sergeant. When I gave it to him, he glanced at it, propped one leg up and sat on the corner of his desk. He scanned the essay. Looking down at me, he asked me what it was about. I gave him a 30 second summary.
He tossed my well crafted essay in a pile of paper on his desk …stood up, “Well Heath…” extending his hand, “I hope I don’t ever see you again.”
“Me too!”, I responded with an exasperated relief
As I was on my way back to my mom’s car, I realized that I was never officially arrested…and this was a scare tactic conjured up by some calculating adults meant to teach us a lesson.
Lesson learned!
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