According to LA Observed, “There are 9,000 unsolved murders since 1960 on the books in Los Angeles.” That’s roughly one unsolved murder a day for this city. Is that good for a city this large? I guess it depends on who you talk to. My biggest frustration living in a metropolis is the inability of the Police to prevent or punish those engaged in non-violent or petty crime. They don’t have the resources of money, men, or minutes to expend on crime that doesn’t have any greater damage than the victim’s dented wallet. We’ve had two stereos stolen in two years and Steve’s ’64 Falcon was the victim of a hit and run that cost us $1500 to fix. Steve tried to fill out a police report for the Falcon, but they persuaded him not to since they wouldn’t do anything about it anyway. I’ve wondered if we should fill out police reports for every crime simply to have a record of it in case anyone runs statistics on unsolved petty crime. Maybe if the numbers were astronomical they would do more to prevent it. But then you think they haven’t solved 9,000 murders so why should I bother them with these petite crimes. There seems to be very little incentive to report, but a whole lot of incentive to live a life of minor thievery and dishonesty since the cost to do so is so low.

A few months ago Steve turned off Los Feliz Blvd to avoid traffic congestion and nearly ran over a large well-built black man without a shirt beating on a slim black woman. The man was punching the woman in the stomach and kicking her in the middle of the street while a “friend” sat on a low wall watching. We pulled over to call 911. The man ran off, the woman jumped into her car and immediately slammed into the side of a car slowly driving up the street. The car, now with a crumpled rear panel, stopped. The old man driving was obviously confused about what just happened. Meanwhile the woman took off. The old man continued driving. Steve and I tried to flag him down yelling for him to stop since we saw what happened. The old man never looked at us. The man who beat the woman would probably never get caught or if he did the woman would probably not press charges. The man whose car was now crap wouldn’t get her insurance to cover his damages.

I remember feeling so helpless. I remember thinking that this stuff happens all the time and the police will never arrive on time and will never have the resources to really do anything helpful. I hate injustice. I hate knowing that some criminals may never pay for their crimes or at least for particular crimes. I hate feeling that I have to accept the possibility of being a victim of a non-violent crime. I hate feeling that there’s virtually nothing I can do to prevent it. I hate being passive.