Special Report/Breaking News: Cops and Robbers

by Xavier Halliwell

It’s 3:00am. I intended to have an early night tonight. This is the story of why I am still (very) awake. It’s going to be long – so let me get your interest from the outset by giving you the main points in the story:

1. 1. I got robbed
2. 2. The guy who robbed me was very dumb, very drunk, and therefore extremely strange
3. 3. It has a (mostly) happy ending

It is hideously long just because I want to get it all written out while it’s fresh in mind – not because I like the sound of my own... fingers on the keyboard... or something...

OK. Here we go...

It was time to go to bed. I was very tired, having not slept particularly well on any of the nights I’ve been here – mostly because the sun comes up at 4:30am making my brain think it must be time to be awake. I took my clothes to go and get changed in the bathroom. I went into one of the toilet cubicles, got changed for bed and returned to my room. I went so far as to switch off the light and climb into bed before reaching for my mobile phone – but it was not to be found. Not in my pockets, not among the pile of clothes I had brought from the bathroom. Nor was my wallet. Perhaps I had not had it with me then. Is it in my bag? Maybe I left them in the common room while I was using the internet earlier.

No – I remember – I had taken them out of my pockets to get changed and left them on a shelf in the toilet cubicle. It had only been a couple of minutes, so I returned to the bathroom to get them, but found someone using the cubicle I had been in.

I waited. Just a minute or two, a young guy emerged and left the bathroom. If I hadn’t been so tired I would have realised that I should have asked him then and there if he had seen my stuff in there. But I didn’t. I instead simply had a look into the cubicle, saw nothing – no wallet, no phone – and left the bathroom again. Maybe I hadn’t left them there after all. I was pretty tired. Maybe I didn’t look properly in my room.

I returned to the room for another look, and again found nothing. I really was very tired – I considered leaving it until the morning to worry about. I quickly decided that was silly. I couldn’t find my wallet – not something one should “leave until the morning” when you’re staying in a youth hostel. So I left my room again.

At the far end of the hallway, I spotted the young guy I had seen coming out of the toilet. So I went down and asked him if he had seen my stuff while he was in the bathroom. A wallet? A mobile phone? He paused, as if thinking what to say, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple of bank notes. An Australian $5 note, and a Japanese 10,000 yen. Clearly these had come from my wallet – not many other people would be wandering around in Oxford with those two currencies on them.

For a moment I was confused – was this all he had found? Or had he actually found everything else as well?

He reached into his pocket again, and pulled out a wallet. My wallet. My empty wallet! No cash, no cards, no coins, not even my Boost Juice card or my 10-Pin-Bowling vouchers!

“What about the rest?” I asked, not really sure if I was accusing him of taking the rest or just asking if he had seen the rest. “What about a phone?” I decided to ask. Again, he went into his pocket and pulled out a phone – this time it was not my phone. It was far too new to be my phone J

So I questioned him some more – asked him if there had been anything else with this stuff. After asking him only a few questions, it became clear to me that this guy had taken my stuff. He avoided answering – I began asking him direct Yes-or-No questions, like
“Was there any more money with it?”
“Are you sure there was no phone with it?”
“Have you seen my credit card?”

and he replied with things like:
“Why would I take your money, I have my own”
“Here, what about this phone?”

There was a girl sitting in the corridor as well, who evidently knew this guy. Once she worked out what was going on, she immediately stepped in, clearly highly suspicious of this guy. She asked him why she had seen him hurrying back into his room a few minutes ago, why he had been in such a rush, and had he been going to hide stuff in his room.

As the conversation went on, he got more defensive, she started speaking to him like she was his mother, and both of us became more and more convinced that he had taken my things.

Then it got weird – he started trying to give me his passport. I have no idea why, but he seemed to be claiming that he wouldn’t be doing it if he was guilty. As if my knowing exactly who he was, and having his passport in my possession would mean that I could find him again if it turned out he was guilty... or something.

“Take it. Why would I be doing this if I had stolen your stuff?” he would say
“What am I going to do with your passport? I want my own stuff, not yours!” was the general crux of my replies.

We continued to ask questions, speaking to him as if it was a well known fact that he had my stuff, and eventually the girl suggested we go and see whoever was the boss at the hostel at the moment – again, she spoke as if she knew this person, calling him by name, and telling me she would take me to him. Our suspect stepped up his defensiveness another notch at this point, even mentioning the police.

“No, we’re just going to report that there has been a theft.” But even when we weren’t actually accusing him of anything, he felt the need to defend himself.

Things now moved out into the common room. I told my story to a few people who obviously had some kind of authority at the Hostel. Just the facts – I never said that this guy had stolen my stuff, just that I had seen him come out of the toilet where I had left it, and that he had had the empty wallet in his possession.

It wasn’t long before a small crowd had gathered to watch proceedings. The accused was sitting on a couch on one side of the room, myself on another, with other people randomly scattered around. He stepped up his strangeness by throwing his passport on the ground at my feet – still convinced that it was some kind of peace offering that would make me leave him alone.

And then up another notch. He called the police. By this point, I was (and I’m sure everyone else in the room was also) absolutely certain that he had been the thief. But he called the police.

We tried calling my mobile, but it was “unavailable” – presumably turned off.

A Swiss guy soon arrived and took some kind of control. He also seemed to know the suspect, and after hearing my story, immediately jumped to the conclusion that this guy was guilty. The discussion went on for probably 20 minutes more. On our side there was a lot of:
“Just give him his stuff back – he’s travelling, and needs his ID and cards to get on with his holiday. Keep the cash, just give us the rest of it”
“No, I’m not interested in the police, they’ll just have a situation of statement against statement, and won’t be able to do anything.”
“You only called the police because you know you’ll get away with it one they show up – they won’t be able to prove you’ve got the stuff”

From him there were things like:
“If I did it, why would I call the police?”
“Here, have my passport!”
“This is just between me and him. Come and talk to me yourself and we’ll sort it out. I’m still not sure what you want me to do for you”
“The police aren’t coming – they said they’re not interested”
Then he called the police a second time

Through it all, he never said straight out that he didn’t have my stuff. Never said straight out that the wallet had been empty when he found it. Never said straight out that he didn’t know where my stuff was.

The icing on the cake was when he flat out refused to empty his pockets when someone pointed out that “there sounds like a fair bit of cash in there, and I reckon anything more that about 20 quid total is not yours!”

Next thing, a police officer arrived. I think most people in the room were quite surprised, as most of us had assumed that he had only pretended to make the call.

The first thing our young robber did was request a private chat with the officer. The hostel people showed them into the office behind the service desk, and after a few minutes, the policeman emerged.

And here’s the best bit of weird behaviour... he had confessed, and handed over a wad of cash to the police. The officer told me that the guy had confessed, and given him what he believed was my money. As for the rest of the stuff, the guy had apparently dumped it. But he “couldn’t remember where”. In the bathroom certainly – maybe down the toilet.

The officer accompanied us into the bathroom, but the thief clearly had no idea what he was talking about anymore, and less idea of what he had done with my stuff. A short search yielded nothing, and we concluded that he had indeed flushed the things. Including my phone.

The thief then pulled a final bit of whackiness by holding out his hands, wrists together, and asked “Are you going to handcuff me now?” When he was told “Not yet”, he stood there with his hands in the same position, just waiting.

While I finished looking in the bathroom, the officer took him away. Apparently “not just regular handcuffs with a little chain between them, these were big chunky things!” A pity I didn’t get to see them!

Ten minutes later, another pair of police arrived to take a statement from me and collect the guy’s bags. So I told them the details of the story, what I had had in my wallet, what my phone looked like. I believe they were also going to later check his bags to see if there was more stolen property in there.

So I signed a statement, and the police gave me my cash back and left just after 2:30am. At which point I still had to call to cancel my bank cards, and of course, write this tale while it is still fresh in my memory.

Wow. So it’s now 4:20am – yep, really early night for me!

In conclusion I would like to say:

• · This was quite easily one of the most un-nerving experiences of my life. It takes a hell of a lot to get me on edge, but sitting there with my empty wallet in hand in a room full of people who are focussing their attention on the guy that everyone knows has stolen my stuff, but who is avoiding being found out by being a complete nutcase – all magnified by how tired I was before this even began – well and truly got me there! The point at which the first officer said the guy had confessed was bliss!!!!
• · The thief was young – very early twenties, maybe even only 19 – short, mildly pudge, with very short (possibly shaved) hair. He didn’t have the face of a theif, it was too young looking. He perhaps looked a bit derro/bogan/lower-class/mild trouble-maker, but not steal-someone’s-wallet material.
• · It is quite amusing that Owen missed this entire thing. He was in bed before it ever began. A cracking tale to tell him tomorrow.
• · To all you people who tell me I need a new phone – you will get your wish. (Apparently it’s best to get a cheap temporary one for the rest of the trip)
• · Although my cards and stuff being gone is an inconvenience, I still have my passport, and the only out-of-pocket expense I have is... a new phone J
• · This is the second consecutive overseas trip for me where someone (either me, or travelling with me) has been robbed
• · Now that I’ve finished writing, I am really really tired