A Thief Unpunished

I witnessed a crime today -- and couldn't do anything. Frustration! A skinny youngish man ripped something away from a woman's stacked luggage at a bus stop -- I was in my car at a stoplight nearby watching it all.  The man suddenly sprinted away on Abercorn street towards the river. The woman was well-dressed, in high heels, with stacks of her belongings around her looking helpless -- and unable to pursue.

So I did. Slowly. In my car.

The man became aware of my "pursuit" almost immediately and kept sprinting. The outside temperature was about 85 degrees and humid -- early summer in Savannah!
I was still in my bright yellow tee shirt that I run in on really hot days. He kept running, stopping briefly at corners because of the traffic. He looked me straight in the eyes several times as  I periodically caught up with him. I  looked back and smiled. My instinct was to take his picture, but I realized my phone was at home being charged. So just kept following -- slowly. Yes, I thought about possibilities: "he might have a gun," "he might attack the car," so I mentally prepared myself for any such possibility. I am a seventy-year-old guy  so I wasn't about to jump from the car and tackle him. He saw me and I think realized that.

So I kept following -- and he kept running. One time I caught up and he was hunched over, hands on hips -- sweating profusely. I pulled up and smiled.

He suddenly veered off to his left and kept running this time up an "alley" (called a "lane" in Savannah). I rounded the turns of the square I had entered and took a left
I came up right behind him after about a block and again looked him straight in the face. He wasn't running very fast now. He grimaced and took off again.

After about two blocks he ran up between two government buildings and attempted  to lose me. I persisted -- crossing Martin Luther King Blvd at the corner (while he was crossing mid--block behind me).

I thought I knew where he could be going. I saw him run into the Urban Crisis Center complex. I realized my pursuit was now over -- except in my memory, and his aching
body.