Sean Valjean Part 2

While we were enjoying our holiday in California, Sean noticed that we weren't coming out to ask him to turn down our music every day. He asked Kat, our friend who was watching the house for us, where we were, and she vaguely replied that we'd be back in a couple of days. He must have been watching her whereabouts pretty closely because he realized she wasn't actually in the house Wednesday night, so he decided to bring a friend and crowbar our back window open. He stole all of our change (about £20), our VCR/DVD player, our cable box, our phone handset (but not the base), Tim's work keys, and my mobile phone. He broke the lock on the window, one of the slats on the blind, and our wooden structure in the back garden. We assumed when we found out that it was Sean, but we couldn't prove it. The police dusted for prints with no luck. On Thursday Tim pulled off a list of numbers that had been called on my phone since it was stolen and he called some of them asking if they'd seen Sean. Sean had called the police, his doctor, and a friend who confirmed that he knew Sean but hadn't seen him in a while. Tim stopped calling when he got to the sex lines that had run down my minutes. We handed the list over to the police for further investigation.

Later that day Tim went to say hello to Sean, who was standing in his doorway. He treated Tim with total distain, which is unusual. Sean's usually quite friendly with us. When Tim said, "did you hear someone broke into our house?" Sean said, "Yeah, and you automatically assume it was me, right? I didn't do nuffin." Tim said, "I don't know who it was. What makes you think I think it was you? I didn't say anything like that." Sean replied "Well, you're treating me like I did it." Tim said, "I came over to say hello. How have I treated you?" It's amazing what guilt can do to perception.

The police had canvassed the neighborhood asking for witnesses, so everyone knew we'd been burgled, and later that night Sean's mum, Laura, came by to ask what had been stolen. We watched her get increasingly agitated as we described all the missing pieces. We weren't surprised when 20 minutes later she came back to tell us that it was Sean who had robbed our house--she'd seen some of our stuff pass through her house, but he had lied about where it came from. What did surprise us was her total loss of composure as she cried and told us how ashamed she was that her son could do something like this to the people who had been so kind to her. Her whole body shook with sobs as she counted off the ways we had served her and told us that she didn't know how we could even let her into our home. Tim and I didn't know what to do. We were so touched by her obvious care for us, but also so sorry that she felt such guilt and shame over something that was out of her control. We tried to reassure her that we felt no malice toward her (or Sean for that matter) but she was not easy to console. I did get to pray for her before she left, but I didn't see any obvious relief from that.

While she was there, I went to speak to Sean to ask him for Tim's keys. He said "My mom's over there talking shit. I didn't do nuffin." To which I replied, "Sean, don't bother lying to me, I know it was you. Please just give me the keys back, and if you don't want to give them back now because you're too embarrassed to admit you did it, would you please slip them through the letter box by morning? Tim needs them to go to work." He just rolled his eyes and muttered something about "bustin up this street."

Laura left at about 10:00, and Tim and I went to bed only to be disturbed about 15 minutes later by a knock at the door. I went down to find Laura asking me to come to her house so she could show me something. I went over and found her mother sitting there. She told me she had my cable box. Sean had given it to her and told her it was a way to get free tv. He made up some story which she believed, but she was so very apologetic and offered to get it for me. I told her thanks but I had to get to bed and I'd come by in the morning for it. Laura then handed me my handset, and I turned to Sean and said, "Now can I have the keys." He told me he'd thrown them in a bush and would have to get them for me in the morning. I told him I'd be there at 7 am and he better be ready or I'd come get him out of bed. As it was, Tim went to get him and he was ready buy couldn't find the keys.

We've called the police and have decided to press charges since this is now the third time Sean has stolen from us or damaged our property (the car window, my bike and now the burglary) but the officer on our case won't be available until Tuesday. So Sean is taunting us from across the street, blaring his music, smoking his pot, and generally being a pain in my butt. The weird thing is, I really love this kid. I feel sorry for him. I see the pain in his eyes and the total lack of direction in his path. I want to help him, but he has no interest in helping himself. I've had a couple of serious conversations with him about my shock at his total disregard for me and Tim and our children. I've told him I want good things for him, but I can't help him if he continues to make such bad choices. He can't even look me in the eyes.

I could go on in detail about our conversations and my feelings, but this is the real dilemma: What do forgiveness and justice look like in a situation where there is no remorse? How can I be reconciled to Sean, who I can't trust? And what is the best thing for Sean...is it prison or is it chance after chance after chance? I want to do what's right for Sean. I just wish I knew what that is.