Black Boy, Part I

Our lawnmower got stolen a couple weeks ago, which is a problem since we live in the sort of neighborhood where if you don't cut your lawn regularly, your neighbors look at you funny as you walk from your car into the house. So I was relieved when two young boys (about 13 years old) stopped by and offered to cut the lawn at a reasonable rate. They did a good job and I tipped them happily, pleased to support young boys making honest wages. We made arrangements for them to come back in a week and I exchanged phone numbers with the boy who acted as the lead.

Three days later, my wife and I are sitting in the living room, reading at about 9pm, when we hear a bunch of voices in distress running at the side of our house. About five minutes after that, Jean, our neighbor from across the street, rings the bell and informs us that some young boys were in our yard. I go out back to check things out and when I get back to the front yard, Jean and my wife are chatting.

My wife updates me on their conversation and said that Ted, Jean's husband, had seen the boys walk through our front gate and head into the back yard and he had followed them and apparently scared them off. The boys hopped the back fence and ran off, leaving a pair of bolt cutters in their wake.

Although our neighborhood is quiet, tree lined and thoroughly middle class it sits right next to a neighborhood that is decidedly the opposite. Twenty blocks from where we live is a large public housing development, not one that has been redeveloped, but one of the old school, no grass, young men standing around with no shirt, teenage girls pushing baby strollers.

After joining in on the conversation I asked Jean where Ted was. "Oh he went after the boys." This had not finished registering on me when I saw three boys half a block away run through an alley across our street and continue on through the alley followed closely by Ted, his arms pumping after them.

Jean's response was a nonchalant, "there he goes," my wife issued, what in the legal profession is called and excited utterance, shouting, "What the fuck!" With mixed emotions I walked down the street toward the alley, with no desire to catch up with Ted. When I got to the alley, Ted was leading one of the boys back in a half nelson. The boy was all protest, shouting that he was no thief, he was simply on his way to his cousin, that he wanted to call his mother. I looked at Ted wondering how long had he been Batman.

He walked the boy back to the front of my house, my wife called the police and as is traditional in our neighborhood, whenever there is any excitement folks come out their houses to see what is going on. Ted had the boy sit on the ground between us while he continued to proclaim his innocence and make his case. Ted informed him that we had his hand print.

"On the bike?" the boy asked nervously.

Ted meant the bolt cutters, but the boy mentioning the bike reminded me that we had three bicycles chained up in the stairwell leading to the basement in the back of the house. So now everything became clear, the bolt cutters were to cut the chains off the bikes. The boy was getting more and more anxious and asked my wife for a phone so he could call his mother. I, frankly was concerned that his associates would retaliate against us in some way for getting their friend arrested.

I started talking to the boy, asking him which school he went to, what did he want to be when he grew up (football player and if that didn't work out, basketball player) when it occurred to me that this boy was one of the two boys who cut my lawn. But then I was not sure. I had dealt with just one of them who negotiated the price, who did the walk through with me after they finished cutting the lawn and who seemed like he was in charge of the enterprise. It made sense, while they were cutting the back yard they saw the bikes and alerted their friends to the possible booty.

The police arrived, took statements from Ted, Jean, my wife and I; interviewed the boy and informed us that they did not have enough to charge him. My wife being a criminal defense attorney was not surprised, but Ted was disappointed, after all he spent about twenty minutes running after kids not even a third his age. The police put the boy in their squad care and assured us they would give him a harsh talking to and take him home.

Folks started drifting back into their houses leaving Ted, Jean my wife and I standing outside our house. It was at this point I took the opportunity to tell Ted that he was crazy to run after them. He readily agreed. We ended up inviting them over for dinner on Sunday and made our way back inside.

"Well," my wife said, "we should get an alarm system." Re-starting a conversation that we had been having for about a year.

"Yeah," I replied, "I don't think this is over."