A little, white VW lie

PETER BUFFA

Oh, boy. They are so grounded.

For two Costa Mesa brothers, Thursday started out bad and got

worse by the time it was done. Much worse.

Now that the real story of the lads’ excellent adventure has been

pieced together, I suspect the two brothers, who are 8 and 10 years

old, will be in their rooms, without phones, TVs, computers, Game

Boys or anything else that even vaguely resembles fun until they are

25, give or take a few months.

On Thursday, the older boy, who goes to Davis Elementary School,

and his younger brother, who goes to Paularino Elementary School,

missed their bus, which is when things started to go south. When the

younger boy realized he was going to miss a test, panic set in and

his big brother came up with an idea. Unfortunately, it was a really,

really bad idea.

When the brothers finally reached Paularino, they proceeded

directly to the office and announced that a man in a white Volkswagen

had accosted them and tried to pull the older brother into his car.

As one would expect, that news set some large wheels in motion.

One large wheel was Paularino Principal John Sanders, who called the

Costa Mesa police immediately and gave all the other kids a note to

take home that afternoon explaining exactly what happened, what was

being done about it, and what parents and kids should do if anything

like it ever happened to them.

The bad day for the two brothers got even worse when more large

wheels, from the Costa Mesa police, rolled up. The Costa Mesa police

officers, who are smart officers indeed, applied a basic principle of

police work: When two people claim something happened, separate them

and question each of them separately. If their stories differ, don’t

put out that all-points bulletin just yet.

Again, just as one would expect, it didn’t take long for the boys’

story to unravel, especially with one of them all of 8 years old.

The younger brother remembered very little of what happened, but

the police were impressed, and suspicious, of how much the older

brother remembered, down to the smallest detail.

When the police drove the older boy to the “crime scene,” he not

only told them the man had ripped one of the collar buttons from his

shirt, but he told them exactly where it should have fallen.

Incredibly, there it was, right where he said.

Good golly, Miss Molly, what are the chances of that happening?

Let’s see. The chances of that happening are, roughly, zero.

With some gentle prodding from the officers, the jig was up, the

game was over, and both boys were singing like Mario Lanza doing “Be

My Love.”

“The kids admitted they falsified the whole thing,” said Costa

Mesa Police Sgt. Marty Carver. “They were late for school because

they missed the bus; one of them had a test they missed.”

Everyone was stunned, but greatly relieved at the same time that

the boys were fine and there really was no bad guy in a white

Volkswagen. There will be consequences for the two boys, of course,

once their parents are able to speak again, which should be no later

than August.

This is usually where a weighty, terribly important moral point is

made about kids today, and how it’s all because of this or that, and

how we need to do this or that without fail, etc., but I can’t tell

you how familiar this all sounds.

I am a little puzzled by the 8-year-old’s panic over missing a

test, though, because I don’t remember a lot of tests in the second

grade, but that’s a minor detail.

First of all, those of us who worry about the difference between

the two types of cholesterol (HDL, good; LDL, bad) tend to forget how

hysterical kids can get over school and everything that goes on

there. I have no trouble whatsoever remembering that, however, having

spent 12 years in Catholic schools, being taught almost entirely by

nuns and priests from the Emerald Isle.

There is no modest way to say this, but I turned out more yarn at

that age than a textile factory in Lowell, Mass. I was really, really

good at it. If I thought a story would get me off the hook with

Sister Catherine Marie, not only would that story be told and told

well, but I would probably get a hug and a “you poor dear” out of it,

which would leave the other kids dumbfounded as I walked by them on

the way back to my desk.

In fact, other kids would pay me to go home with them and explain

to their parents why they were late or what happened to their school

bag or their bike or their little sister’s eye or why their dog was

painted orange.

My own sister, who is six years older than I am, wouldn’t have

dreamt of facing our parents after an adventure of her own without

pushing me in the room first. I was so good at it that sometimes even

I believed what I was saying.

I’m a little disappointed in the 10-year old and the collar-button

business, but then again, he’s still young.

So there you have it. Always, always tell the truth, no matter

what. Honesty is the best policy, without exception, unless you run

into Sister Catherine Marie, in which case you better be real clever,

or real fast, or both.

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at ptrb4@aol.com.