Living life on the lam with WillThis happened last year when Sheree, my ex, phoned in a dither.
Sheree and I were married for 20 years and are still cordial. We speak to one another at least once or twice a week.
But, like I said, on this particular day, Sheree was upset.
“Will almost got arrested last night!” she wailed.
Will is the youngest of our two sons. He’s 19.
I was stunned. You’d have to know my son to appreciate the contradiction in the words “Will” and “arrested.”
Will has come out of his shell somewhat over the past few years, and isn’t as painfully shy as he once was. But he’s still very shy.
And he’s obedient almost to a fault. What he could possibly have done to run afoul of the law was beyond my comprehension.
Sheree explained the crime spree.
Will is a student at UNC-Greensboro where he lives. His cousin was visiting one evening.
As young men (the cousin is a year younger) are prone to do, they decided they wanted a beer. Will marched into a convenience store and tried to buy a six-pack (this in itself surprised me).
When he was carded, he retreated to the parking lot where he and his cousin plotted their next move. About this time, a homeless man wandered past.
The brain trust that is Will and his cousin went to work. They approached the homeless guy, who agreed to buy them a six-pack for $40.
The cousin forked over two $20 bills. The homeless guy went into the store and returned with the beer.
This is where it gets interesting. The UNCG cops had apparently been staking out the place looking for just such a transaction and immediately swarmed.
When confronted, all the guilty parties, of course, panicked and ran, each going in a different direction.
Will took a few steps, then heard one of the cops yell, “Stop or I’ll taser you!” Having no desire to see if this form of deterrent hurts as much as it appears, Will immediately halted.
The officers ran by, still chasing the cousin who was somewhat more fleet afoot. One cop told Will, “Stay here and we’ll be back,” as he sprinted past.
The cousin was apprehended not far away after running out of his flip-flops. Will stood (and I can’t help but chuckle at the image of this) for several minutes, awaiting the return of the cops and his trip to the Big House where he’d probably be forced to share a cell with Cool Hand Luke.
Or Pee-Wee Herman.
Finally, Will wandered alone back to his condo.
The cousin was charged with underage possession of alcohol and resisting arrest.
As best we can figure, the reason the officers never returned to arrest Will was that, technically, he couldn’t be charged.
The cousin handed the money to the homeless guy and the homeless guy presented the beer back to him.
Will was more or less a not-so-innocent bystander. So he couldn’t be apprehended.
I reminded Sheree that boys will be boys and all that, but promised to call Will to discuss the situation. He beat me to the punch, calling me first.
I think Will was expecting to be chastised. He wasn’t.
I’ve talked to both my sons about the dangers of alcohol, about the jobs they’ll be forever excluded from if they’re convicted of DWI. I’ve told them horror stories about the evil of drink and explained the difference between an occasional beer and hard liquor.
But, let’s be honest, when I was 19, I sure downed a brew or two.
Besides if an occasional beer was good enough for Ben Franklin (he of the, “Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy,” quote), it’s good enough for me.
When the case came to court, the charges against the cousin were dropped.
Will and his cousin split the $100 the attorney charged.
Lesson learned.
I did talk to Will once more about the potential perils of drink, admitting, however, that dear ol’ dad still enjoys his beer.
Consumed in moderation, of course.
And I told Will that the next time he had $40 to spend for a six-pack to please give me a call.