“Sorry, Dave!”
And the party would continue.
And that’s if the person survived
the carjacking. Often they didn’t.
People were getting shot for their
cars all the time. Not only could I
not prove I hadn’t stolen the car, I
couldn’t prove I hadn’t murdered
someone for it, either. The cops
were grilling me. “You kill anyone
to get that car, boy? Eh? You a
killer?”
I was in deep, deep trouble. I
had only one lifeline: my parents.
One call would have fixed
everything. “This is my stepfather.
He’s a mechanic. I borrowed his car