The Taj Mahal concert at Jazz Alley a couple of days before Thanksgiving seemed like a great idea to Seward Park resident Chris Beahler, until she exited the popular Belltown venue only to find her car gone. Having already had her inconspicuous 1990 Saturn stolen just two years prior, Beahler assumed it was nabbed, so imagine her surprise when she found that in fact the car had been impounded!
Furthermore, the police insisted she stay put until they could talk to her in person, to which, she replied, "I am an old woman, its dark and cold and I don't want to hang out here." She laughed while recounting this and added, "I felt very old that night!"
Like a good citizen Beahler dutifully waited and read the obvious shock on the face of the precinct officer who arrived. Grey haired librarian Beahler obviously did not look the part of a crafty chop-shop car-buyer. Apparently the cars vehicle identification number (VIN) on the windscreen of her Saturn did not match her license plates.
"Somehow you have stolen plates on your car," the officer stated.
Unfortunately once the process was under way, there was no stopping it. Following up the next day, Beahler was unable to pay to get her car out. They wouldn't even let her have access to her groceries that sat in the trunk, all the food she bought for her Thanksgiving meal! Bureaucracy was in motion.
The next six days were an infuriating labyrinth of numbers, extensions, and voice message machines. The big black hole of local government offices gobbled, with insatiable appetite, all that Beahler had to say, but her initial courteous and concerned tones rapidly plummeted to a testy attitude.
"If someone doesn't call me back soon, I am going to do something!" she exclaimed, not really knowing what it might be!
This prompted a call from an unsympathetic agent in the Seattle Police Department's auto theft division who bemoaned something to the effect of, "You may be disappointed, (at her lack of finding a live person to speak to), but if you were here and could see my work load, you would understand."
Three times he curtly asked where Beahler had bought her plates, looking to trip her up. She distinctly had the feeling that she was being scrutinized rather than helped as to how to navigate the process and provide the necessary information so that she might get her modest sedan, and spoiling groceries, back.
The eight days from the fateful evening, Beahler received a phone message from the auto theft department saying that her car would be released, it was all a misunderstanding and the city would pay the storage fees.
Whatever anger and frustration Beahler had been feeling was quickly put into perspective when picking up her old but beloved Saturn. The office was full of hard-luck stories. She watched as a family with young children in tow struggled with bare-bones English to get back their desperately needed car.
Beahler had felt outrage at her situation, but watching others less fortunate going through the process made her realize that many people are treated this way daily and that they actually expect it.
"It was a sobering experience," said Beahler.
As to why on a dark November night an innocuous and legally parked car became a source of attention to a precinct officer on his regular beat, and who certainly needed to turn on a flashlight to read a VIN number and call it in, remains a mystery. It was never explained.
Jacqui James may be reached via editor@sdistrictjournal.com.
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