Merry Crimemas, Kid
We used to live in a poorer area of the city. While it wasn’t the worst, we learned quickly what not to do to become a target or have our stuff stolen.
Even though we have moved, I’ve kept some of the mentality. My wife calls me paranoid, but I think there is no harm in being safe.
As such, at Christmas, we now put a wreath on the door, but I make sure to tie it to something on the inside with a few cords of strong ribbon.
Late one night, I hear a bang, swearing, and crying coming from outside.
I open the door to find my wreath, not on the hook, but hanging from the cord, and a teenager on the ground crying over his foot.
It’s clear what’s happened and I have zero sympathy.
Me: “That’s what you get from stealing from people.”
Teenager: *Sobbing* “You’re not going to tell my mum, are you?”
Me: “No, but the police will be here soon enough.”
He goes back to wailing and holding his foot. I call an ambulance and ask if an officer can attend. They arrive quickly and the policewoman talks to me about what happened.
Me: “Look, I don’t want him to get into any trouble, but perhaps he could be scared straight a bit.”
Policewoman: “We would have to look into it, but it would be hard to prove an offence had been committed unless there was some camera footage or witness testimony.”
Me: “Honestly, that’s fine. He looks like a wet blanket that just needs a lesson.”
After a while, the boy’s mother turned up. She was immediately on the defensive, but she was shut down quickly after the police told her that her son had admitted to trying to steal the wreath. I decided not to take it any further and they hobbled off into the night without a word.
I got a Christmas card through the door with an apology from the boy a few days later, something about a dare and how he wouldn’t do anything like that again. Hopefully, the lesson will last.
