I CAUGHT A THIEF TRYING TO STEAL MY CAR & CAME UP WITH A BETTER PUNISHMENT FOR HIM THAN CALLING THE COPS

I live alone, and the other night, I was startled awake by the sound of clanging metal coming from my garage. Now, I’ve been around long enough not to scare easily, so I grabbed my old bat and made my way to the garage as quietly as I could. My heart was racing, but I kept steady. I flipped on the light and shouted, “Hey! Get outta here!”

What happened next took me completely off guard. A group of young guys in black hoodies scattered like startled cats, all gathered around my 1970 Plymouth Barracuda—my pride and joy, the car I’ve cared for most of my life. Two of them bolted so fast I couldn’t get a good look, but one of them wasn’t so lucky. He tripped and went down hard.

I grabbed his arm to pull him up, and as his hood fell back, I froze. I couldn’t believe it. I knew this kid—not just a random face. I knew him. I had to act fast! “