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The BB gun vandalism spree over the weekend in Springfield is generating speculation that the 170 incidents of damage, mostly to cars, is a result of a group of youths driving around randomly shooting out windows for fun. That assessment is probably right but there are still some strange aspects to this story. Why for instance has absolutely no one seen anything? I realize it was late but it was over two nights over a sizeable portion of the city. No one saw anything even after the public was alerted after the first night?
The other strange aspect is the volume. Maybe things are different with the video game generation but I can’t imagine having the endurance for two solid nights of window blasting as a teen. And believe me, I had lots of “fun” with BB guns in my youth. But I can’t imagine not getting bored after the first 10 cars or so and wanting to do something else. This rash of incidents seems very focused and determined, something most bored teenagers out at 3:00 AM are not.
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3 comments:
Probably using those automatic pistols with the Carbon Dioxide Pistols.
Better than your average popgun.
Remember these kids have had years of practice using their skills on video games, and I just bet they're video recording the whole thing.
JP
I had a car window shot out on a Saturday night during a similar spree in 1991. The phone rings at 2:30 in the morning. "This is the Springfield Police Department. Don't be alarmed. There's a police officer on your porch and he just wants to talk to you." Alarmed? OMG! Turns out there were only about 40 windows shot out on the south and southeast end of town that night. Someone in my neighborhood witnessed it and the kids were caught. They were teenagers from Pawnee. After about a year's worth of delays, they got a talking to by the judge and were not ordered to pay any damages. The one kid has had his name in police beat several times since then.
When I was little, my brother had a BBgun (a Daisy I think). I went in the backyard with it and gunned down a sparrow with it one day. I went in and told my mom, and beat my ass with a wooden paddle and it hurt like a bitch to walk.
Long story short, I never played with a gun again, until ten years later when my brother (an officer in the navy) took me to a shooting range outside Honolulu. Needless to say, I truly accidentally shot one of the Japanese owner's chickens....
Perhaps what these punks need is a good ass-whoopin, the kind my mother (who was truly a loving woman, until it came time to metting out punishment) was good at delivering.
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