Thu 2 Oct 2008
Mr. W and I went to take care of some business with our rental property manager Tom on Tuesday after work. We somehow got on the topic of being unfairly pulled over by the police, and Tom told us that when his son was 17, the son had borrowed the grandparents’ van, picked up some friends, and went to a local 18+ club. His son is the very responsible sort and always returned home before his midnight weekend curfew. This day, however, it was about 1:30 a.m. when Tom was woken up by his worried wife. The son hadn’t come home. As this was before the age of the ubiquitous cell phone, the parents made phone calls to each of the son’s friends’ homes, only learn from other frantic parents that none of those kids had returned home, either. So now at 2 a.m., our manager was out trolling the streets, even passing another of the kids’ fathers doing the same thing. Not seeing any accidents or oddities, Tom returned home at 2:30 a.m. to see that the van was now in the driveway and the son was inside talking to his mother.
Turned out that as soon as the son drove out of the club’s parking lot, they were pulled over by local sheriffs who, without telling the kids what they did wrong, had all of them out, searched, sat them on the curb, and then searched the van. Eventually, not finding anything, the sheriffs allowed the kids back in the van to go home. Tom was furious at this violation of the kids’ civil rights and drove his son over to the sheriff’s station the next morning. He ranted and raved to the sergeant in charge, saying that the officer did not have good cause to pull over the kids but did so anyway and detained them for hours for nothing. The sergeant called in the sheriff who pulled the kids over, and the sheriff explained that it’s often the case that when kids come out of that club, they have just purchased or sold drugs, and that the pull-over was to make sure that the kids in the van were not hiding drugs. There was still the civil liberty, no-good-cause stop issue, so Tom demanded a written apology from the sheriff to each of the kids who were in the van, saying these were good kids who don’t do drugs and don’t even drink. And the sheriff did it. Tom was obviously a hero to the other parents, until the next day.
The next day, before returning the van to his own parents, Tom decided to wash and clean the vehicle. He stuck the vacuum hose extension into one of the handle slots in the back, and heard a clink. Reaching in, to his utter horror, he pulled out a glass marijuana pipe.
This time, he was furious at his son and drove immediately to the son’s friend’s house, where they were hanging out. The son and his friend had no idea the pipe was in there, but they speculated that it must’ve been a particular kid who’s the friend of another friend they’d invited along, and described where in the van the kid sat. That was indeed where Tom found the pipe, although he never told that to the boys. (Tom also knew that if his son had known about the drug paraphernalia, he never would’ve let Tom clean the car.) Tom said that because this discovery made him an ass for going to the cops demanding apologies for something the kids actually WERE guilty of, he was now going to rectify the situation by bringing the kids to the police station to MAKE an apology. None of the other kids would go, but Tom’s son went, scared the whole time he was going to get arrested. Tom reassured his son that nothing bad would happen to him, but that for the sake of decency, morality, and fairness, this had to be done.
The son went to the same sergeant, explained about the pipe and how he had no idea it was there, that it didn’t belong to him or his friends, and that had he known of its existence, he would never have allowed that acquaintance kid into his car. He swore up and down he would be more careful with his company and that this would never happen again. And he gave a written apology to the sheriff who’d pulled them over, whom they’d made write apologies to the other kids. And Tom’s kid didn’t get in trouble.
As I was listening to this story unfold, when Tom got to the part about how he found the pipe, my immediate mental reaction was, “Whew, that was close! Good thing the cops didn’t find that, and how funny/ironic that they had just made the cop apologize for something he was right about! They got lucky!” So of course I was shocked that although I had thought how great it was they’d gotten away with it, Tom did not let his kid get away with it. I said incredulously, “You made him go back and tell the police what you found, even tho you guys were done scott free and going back made you look like an ass?”
He was like, *blink blink*, “Of COURSE! What kind of parent would I be, what kind of example would I be setting, if I made the sheriff do something for the sake of righteousness and apologize, and when the shoe’s on the other foot, I don’t do the same thing on the other end?!”
I’d like to think that although I fantasize about doing wrong things more often than I’d like to admit, that when it really came to decision/action time, I would normally take the high road. But now I don’t know what to think of myself that my instantaneous reaction was to sheepishly skulk off knowing I’d narrowly gotten away with something. Maybe I’d be an unfit parent.
I think I would have had mixed reactions, but first would have thought the same as you.
“phew!” but then followed by something similar to what Tom did.
I’m curious as to what wrong things you fantasize about. Smoking pot?
I probably wouldn’t have made my kid go back. I would have been too scared it would back fire somehow. I’m just really paranoid right now tho.
Jordan – I was hoping I’d be the same way. I was thinking that because my thought process was cut off after just a few seconds, that was why I stopped at “whew,” but that given enough time to mull over the situation, I would’ve eventually landed on the right thing, too.
Flat Coke – no, more like revenge things. When I was little (elementary school), the typical angry fantasy would be, let’s say I got mad at you. I’d imagine that the earth opened up and this giant monster popped out of the ground, grabbed you in an enormous clawed hand, grabbed my typical mortal enemy in another, and asked me, “Which one would you like me to eat?” And that’d be my scale as to whether I hated you that day more than I hated my typical mortal enemy. (Yes, she was a specific person.)
Gotcha!!! Whew…remind me not to get on your bad side!!
otay! Hee hee.