To Catch a Thief

I have an extraordinary amount of symmetry in my life: I had a flat tire on the 101 freeway and met the first love of my life.  Check. I snuck into 20th Century Fox studios and walked off the lot with a job on my favorite television show (“Moonlighting”), kicking off my entire career. Check.  Years ago, I walked into a job interview and walked out a Jew. Check. 

I also came to realize that symmetry is a two-way street – it can inexplicably intertwine with someone else’s life with equally dramatic results. There’s a reason why “It’s A Wonderful Life” is one of my favorite films. 

If you’re like me, you have a mental “Shabbos to do list” every Thursday. I’m such a perfectionist that I dropped my car off at the mechanics so I could pick it up Friday morning while my challah was rising. Even my car was ready for Shabbos.  

True to form, the mechanic calls at 10:30 AM, “I replaced your fuel filter and I want to run it for a couple of minutes to make sure there is no more gas leaking. You can pick it up in a half of an hour.” 

Ten minutes later at exactly 10:40, I get another call from the mechanic.

“I’m so sorry to tell you this but your car was just stolen. I’ve already called the police.”

“Are you kidding me? I mean, you’re kidding me, right? “

He wasn’t kidding. 

I went about the rest of my day the best I could.  I’d mutter to myself, It’s just a thing, right? I’ll survive. No one was hurt. It’s a thing. 

When I ran across the street to get something from the market, a homeless woman was sitting right in front of the door. I was two steps past her when I turned around and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. Don’t judge me too harshly, but my first thought was if I do this mitzvah, maybe G-d will give me my car back. 

Five minutes before Shabbos rolls in, I get a call from a detective in L.A. County. It turns out that shopping malls scan your license plate for stolen vehicles. My crackerjack car thief wasn’t so crackerjack.  They arrested him sitting in my car. Hallelujah! 

When I picked up my car from impound, I perused the arrest report and noticed the name of the perp who stole my car. Like any self-respecting victim, I googled him. 

I picked up the phone immediately and called Detective Dan, who was assigned to my case. 

“Did y’all know that the guy who stole my car is wanted for questioning in the murder of a cop? You know this, right? I’m just double checking.” 

“I don’t think it’s the same guy. My entire computer screen would light up like a Christmas tree if there was a warrant out for him,” he said.

“I defer to you, but I want to point out that every detail fits – his name, his age and hometown.”

“I really don’t think it’s him,” he said. 

About one month later I get a call erev Shabbos.

“This is Detective Dan. Do you remember me?”

“Of course, I remember you.”

“I just called to thank you,” he said.

“For what?” I asked. 

“The man who stole your car was indeed the same man we were looking for in connection to the murder of a police officer. When I hung up with you, I wondered, could she be right? I did some digging and over the course of the last four weeks, we got the evidence to convict him. He is going away for life. We also notified the victim’s longtime partner on the police force. He teared up when we told him that the murderer was in custody. “

“I’m Jewish. We believe everything happens for a reason, Detective Dan,” I said.

It’s as if G-d whispered, “I’m going to borrow your car for the weekend and we’re going to catch a killer.” You know what? Anytime Hashem. Anytime.

It’s as if G-d whispered, “I’m going to borrow your car for the weekend and we’re going to catch a killer.”

You know what? Anytime Hashem. Anytime.

Christine Sheaks is a Film Producer and currently finishing her memoir, “A Wandering Shiksa.”