The Bernal Heights Woman Who Stopped Car Thieves by Throwing Soup
A cheeky take on the subject of this article. Photo of Bernal Heights by Octoferret via Wikimedia Commons. Photo of the soup can by Robert Couse-Baker via pxphere.
After moving to the City in 2013, my husband and I settled in beautiful Bernal Heights. We loved everything about it. Everything, of course, except some of the neighbors. One time, we witnessed a yelling match between the people next to us and the people behind us about whether or not building a fence around a yard would inhibit the migratory patterns of birds. This set our expectations rather low for long-term neighborly relationships. But even still, we weren’t prepared for how the pandemic turned our neighborhood upside-down.
Things were going (relatively) fine until 2021, when more break-ins started happening on our street. Susan*, a Google employee, bore the brunt of it. That summer, Susan’s garage was broken into twice, and then her home was broken into by two armed robbers. So Susan started emailing the whole block, asking people to install security cameras outside of their houses. But there was one problem Susan failed to take into account in her relentless pursuit of justice: her neighbors.
“I would never put a security camera in front of my home! Surely you all realize that security cameras are discriminatory devices that unfairly target Black and brown people?!” This was neighbor Kate, toward the beginning of the meeting of a neighborhood-wide Zoom call scheduled in response to Susan’s emails. Though Kate attempted to express her misgivings calmly, the conversation went immediately sideways.
“How do cameras target Black and brown people?” asked another neighbor, Josh, when Kate stopped to take a breath. “It’s not like they make security cameras that only see Black and brown people.” For the record, facial recognition technology is more likely to misidentify people with darker skin tones. Though home-based security systems don’t have facial recognition systems, I think Kate was concerned about people sending footage from their cameras to the police, and the police using it to make wrongful convictions.
“And besides,” Josh continued, “I have young kids. If someone breaks into my house, I’m calling the cops, regardless of the color of their skin.”
“Why don’t we all give these folks the benefit of the doubt?” said Linda, who lived at the far end of the street. In the past, she’d sent emails encouraging people to leave their cars unlocked at night, in case anyone needed a place to sleep. “If I saw someone breaking into our house, I’d invite them in to use the bathroom, and then offer them some milk and cookies.”
Linda’s comment reminded me both of Les Miserables and of another of our old neighbors, James. James once mistook a robber for one of his housemate’s friends. So, when James came home to a stranger in his kitchen, he actually sat down with the thief and poured him a glass of wine. Only after the stranger’s departure did James discover his mistake, and his room ransacked.
“Milk and cookies?!” said Josh in undisguised shock. “You’ve got to be joking.”
“What?! It’s better than calling the cops!” Linda replied. “Do you really want to be responsible for someone getting arrested and sent headfirst into the abysmal American prison system?”
“Oh please,” said another neighbor, Mike. “We all know Boudin won’t prosecute, so it makes no difference. Not even a murderer goes to prison in San Francisco these days!” (For those who may have forgotten, the SF DA at the time was the contentious Chesa Boudin.)
A street in Bernal Heights. Photo by the author.
Susan remained quiet for most of the meeting. Kate and Susan were friends, and I could tell from Susan’s nervous demeanor on the Zoom stream that she was ready to concede in order to salvage their relationship. But now that everyone was arguing about what would happen if you gave a crook a cookie, it was probably too late.
“I, for one,” Kate continued, “think it’s important to hear from our older residents. Carl and Rhonda, do you have anything to say?”
Carl and Rhonda, who lived across from us, were the only long-time residents of the neighborhood on the call, and the only Black people who lived on our street. This was, ostensibly, not why Kate asked them to speak, but given her earlier remarks, it certainly looked as if she was trying to drum up support.
Carl leaned into his laptop to fumble with the mute button, then cleared his throat. “Hello everyone, I’m Carl. Rhonda and I have lived on this street since the 1980s. Many years ago, I decided to buy a whole-home security monitoring system. We have cameras at the front door, and motion sensors. If anything suspicious happens, an alarm will sound, and the police are automatically called.”
After the safety meeting, things in our neighborhood didn’t feel the same. To make matters worse, the neighborhood’s older residents didn’t know how to use reply-all, so email threads quickly descended into chaos. But then, one morning, I woke up to an email sent to our block’s email list from a neighbor named June.
Subject: 232 your catalytic converter was chopped but not stolen
Morning!
I’m a neighborhood car watch up here.
(My bedroom on the second floor overlooks the street.)
232 I just stopped guys from sawing off your converter on your blue prius. They didn’t get it but they may have cut it at one end. They were in a white sedan. I didn’t get the license plate. I was too busy throwing soup cans at them.
Jerry, thanks for the idea to throw cans of soup. This is the second time I’ve tried it, and it worked! I was also not naked this time, so I was able to act faster. Pajamas really helped! Sorry for the screaming and the split peas in the street. For those walking dogs this morning, there is a yummy treat.
If anyone has extra soup cans they will never use, put them outside my door.
Stay safe, folks! And remember, neighbor June is watching out.
Our corner of Bernal did not heal from all of its problems overnight, but when June threw the can of soup, everyone had a good laugh. June had found a way to prevent crime without installing cameras, and without calling the cops. Eventually, the crime management tension felt like a distant memory. So when it comes to bringing people together, I guess there’s nothing quite like a soup-er hero who sometimes wears pajamas.
*This is a true story, but names and some identifying details have been changed.
Howdy! My name is Katy Atchison and I'm an Associate Editor for Broke-Ass Stuart.
I want to take the time to say thank you for supporting independent news media by reading BrokeAssstuart.com. Supporting independent news sources like Broke-Ass Stuart is vital to supporting our community because it amplifies the voices of a wide variety of diverse opinions. You also help support small businesses and local artists by sharing stories from Broke-Ass Stuart.
Because you're one of our supporters, I wanted to send over a pro-tip.
Our bi-weekly newsletter is a great way to get round ups of Broke-Ass Stuart stories, learn about new businesses in The Bay Area, find out about fun local events and be first in line for giveaways.
If you’d like to get our newsletter, signup right here, it takes 5 seconds.
You Might Also Like
