My piece of crap cousin Ken Ford Hudson has struck again. After serving most of a five year sentence in a state prison, he was released on parole late last fall. In August of last year, he wrote me a note about how he had “found the Lord” in prison. Apparently in prison the Lord taught Ken to resume his drug habits and jump right back into a life of crime, which is exactly what he did.
One of my relatives pulled some strings and got Ken a job at a local heat and air repair shop. My mom, who felt sorry for Ken and wanted to help him out, hired Ken to install an A/C unit into her rent house (where my sister lives). To repay them both back, Ken loaded up a work truck full of air conditioners and tools and ran off. Tuesday, he broke into my sister’s house and stole basically everything, including her computer, printer, monitor, digital camera, television, DVD player, VCR, etc. A judge might find the evidence circumstancial, but it’s pretty obvious, as the last thing stolen was the AIR CONDITIONER UNIT he installed the month before. Yes, he stole the big A/C unit that sits outside her house. Combine that with the fact that he broke into someone else’s house the same day who positively ID’ed him, a house that’s in the same neighborhood as my sister’s, and I’d say a pretty strong finger points to this guy.
The most disheartening part of the experience has been working with the police. Right off the bat, we were told that without serial numbers, retreival of the property would be impossible. Ok, that parts not their fault. But then, when we suggested that they might try to get some fingerprints, we were told that that would be pretty impossible too — DESPITE the fact that “whoever this mysterious thief was” left the hacksaw he used to cut off the a/c lines. I looked up Ken’s parole officer, who checked the computer system and said there weren’t even any charges filed against him. So quick summary, my cousin broke into my sister’s house, we told the police who did it and where he’s staying, and they won’t go pick him up. Ugh.
Thoughts of vigilante’ism cross one’s mind, but what can you do? You can’t shoot him, you can’t confront him, and hell, the parole officer told me that he’s not even wanted, so even if he ran smack dab into a police officer, they couldn’t arrest him. Extremely frustrating, all the way around.
Linda (my sister) and I have agreed to visit him once he’s in prison again and laugh at him.