The Day I Became An Informant For The Police
By on August 23, 2017
His cell phone line was dead. As a car dealer, a disconnected phone is always the first sign that one of your automotive “investments” has gone south.
By 2:00 PM I was at the house. My truck wasn’t there. A loud noise from inside told me that his associate, DJ Jazzy Boombox, was working on a lifelong tinnitus condition. Knocked on the door . . . doorbell . . . knock . . . doorbell . .
DJ emerges from his stupor and staggers to the door. His eyes are barely open. Then again, maybe not. “Do you know where Darrin is?” “Um . . . no, sir.” Sir? I’m younger than you buddy! I kept that thought in my mind and instead uttered my usual response.
“Let him know that the dealership needs their payment.”
When I was starting out in the business I made house calls. Then again, this was back in 2009 when you would sometimes see a vacant house and some miscellaneous furnishings on the curb instead of a customer and your car.
There were sections of Atlanta that looked like they had been neutron bombed. Where buildings still stood, but the people were all gone along with any lawn or yard maintenance. Vast stretches of subdivisions that were little more than empty shells with young trees and two year old weeds.
I went back to the dealership, met a few nice folks with little to no money, and went home. Then at 10:00 P.M., my Bronx temper exploded with a name and face I saw on the computer screen. Yep. It was that guy. My words, to paraphrase the cussing was, “Oh Mother OF GOD!!!!”
Darrin was on the front page of Paulding.com. The police wanted him for a rash of vehicle break-ins and burglaries. Lucky for me and the police, I had a GPS on the truck.
I guess McDonalds was as good of a place as any to find a car you own that was used for criminal activity. The cops led him away in handcuffs, and I wondered if they would let him keep his McDonalds uniform. He was arrested where he worked. Yes, worked. And there it was. My car.
Unfortunately, so was his highly decorated sister. I informed the seven body piercings surrounding her face that I was repo’ing the car. The police would arrive shortly to inspect the vehicle for any stolen merchandise. She left immediately. Then I ordered a hauler since I had trouble diasbling the immobilizer that came with the GPS.
I figured I would have the police inspect it tomorrow. If they recover someone else’s belongings, the heat will jerk his chain. Or not. Those TV guys might be able to lift a print from a discarded Tic-Tac, but real life cops are more likely to throw everything into a garbage bag.
I had only two repos during tax season. Both were referrals who were too young and dumb for their own good. From now on I was going to put my faith in ageism. I wouldn’t finance a “referral” under 25. If you didn’t like my policy, too bad. It was my property. So sue me.
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