Wanted man

 Photo by Loren Javier

4:15 a.m.: A state trooper comes into the store and asks if I'd seen an out-of-breath man come in. Someone who wasn't driving a car.

When I say I hadn't, the trooper calls me out to his squad car and shows me a mug shot of a white man in his early 30s with stringy, dark brown hair and a pudgy face.

"No, I haven't seen him," I tell the trooper.

"Well, if you do, be sure to give us a call," the trooper answers.

"What did he do?" I ask.

"He ran away from something," he answers in the way that the authorities answer questions without answering.

About 15 minutes later, a city police officer comes in, asking the same questions.

Again, I say I hadn't seen the man. I tell him a trooper had also just been in.

"What did he do?" I ask.

"He fled from an incident," the officer answers without really answering.

The next morning, three different police officers come in for their free coffee.

"Hey, did you guys catch the fella you were looking for last night?" I ask.

"No, we quit looking for him," one of the officers replies.

"Gave you the slip?"

"No. We found out that he owned the property that he destroyed," the same officer says. "There's no law against wrecking your own shit."

"Why did he run?" I ask.

"He's on probation," one of the other officers answers, as if that constitutes actual cause and effect.

"I guess it's his prerogative to break his own stuff," I say.

"That's what happens when you mix drunk and stupid," one of the officers says. "But I bet he's regretting it this morning."