Lost and Found

In the Book of Luke, Chapter 15, Jesus tells a series of parables that describe the great lengths people will go to find something lost and the joy that follows when they do. He talks about a shepherd leaving a flock of ninety-nine to find a single sheep and a father who welcomes home a prodigal son after squandering half of the father's wealth. In Santa Barbara people don't generally lose sheep, but there are times when teenagers decide that the prodigal path looks better than life at home. Police officers find themselves in a unique position to find and reunite children with their families during times like this. It is an opportunity to start the healing process and rebuild families. Sometimes, we have the opportunity to be more than just the finder of a lost sheep.

Little Audrey's was an iconic diner in Santa Barbara. The restaurant was right in the middle of downtown and looked just like a place you might find along on Route 66 in the 1970's. For decades, Audrey served pancakes, BLT's, hamburgers and fries to thousands of customers. Cops paid $2.50 no matter what they ordered. Legend had it that a Police Chief once went down to the diner to confront Audrey about giving away discounted meals to cops. He ordered her stop. Audrey threw him out.

The diner was a family affair and Audrey's daughters and grandchildren worked at the restaurant with her. I ate at Audrey's two or three times a week. The rule of thumb was that when you paid for the meal, you left a tip that covered the cost of whatever you ordered. Over time, I got to know Audrey, her children and grandchildren. I would bring my family to the diner to eat. Audrey even held my oldest daughter as a baby and we still have her gift of an embroidered baby blanket.

One particular Sunday morning, I was working a patrol shift and went to Audrey’s early to grab some breakfast. I walked through the back door and could tell something was wrong. One of Audrey's daughters was in tears, Audrey was visibly shaken and the staff was oddly quiet as they went about their work. Audrey met me after I walked only a few steps into the business and told me that her 15 year old granddaughter, Brandy, ran away the night before. The family spent a sleepless night calling friends and driving through Santa Barbara looking for her. There were no such things as a cell phone, texting or e-mails. They were scared and worried. There was nothing more they could do. They had to open the business for the day.

I sat down to have breakfast and spent time talking with Audrey and Brandy’s mom about the circumstances leading up to that morning. Brandy’s mom was raising her daughter as a single parent. Over the previous months there was lots of arguing, disrespect and everyone in the family had opinions and expectations. It all ended with Brandy disappearing. That had not happened before. I finished eating, told them I would look for Brandy and left to go back to work.

It was typically quiet on Sunday mornings and I decided to drive around on the chance that I might spot Brandy out and about. The question was: Where would a 15 year old girl walk around on a Sunday morning after running away? Santa Barbara is 19 square miles with 100,000 people. I figured she would turn up in a few days and I would hear about it when I went back to the diner.

It occurred to me that five blocks away at the beach was a hotel that shared the same building with a local bar called Rocky’s. Rocky’s was a gathering place for 20 somethings. The staff was less than enthusiastic about checking ID’s and it was common to find under-aged kids in the business. The hotel was a place where teenagers would rent rooms and hold parties with minimal risk of the cops getting called out for loud music complaints. If you got denied access to Rocky’s, you could always go back up to your room for a shot and a beer.

I remember sitting in my police car and getting a sense that I should check there first. It sounds strange but it felt like the right place to go. I drove my police car out of the parking lot behind Audrey’s and travelled the five blocks or so towards the beach. As I drove past the front of the hotel, there stood a lone person. “Gee,” I thought, "That looks like Brandy.”

It was.

I did not believe it.

I pulled up to the curb. The look on her face not one of anger or fear but one asking for help. I pulled up to the curb and told her to get in so I could take her home. She accepted and climbed in the car. I did not ask her what she did or where she had been the previous night. I drove back to the restaurant.

Not ten minutes after I left the diner, I walked back in with Brandy right behind me. It was a very cool moment and there were looks of surprise on many faces in the diner. There was no yelling, no accusations, just relief as mother and daughter embraced. I spent a few minutes to make sure everything was ok. I left them sitting in a back booth of the diner quietly talking. It was a turning point for the family and I would watch Brandy grow into a young adult in the years that followed. I was blessed to see how my small role made a difference in a family’s life.

The following Sunday, I went back to the diner for breakfast. Audrey made me sit in the booth next to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat, hun?”

“Surprise me.” I said.

The next thing I know, Audrey went into the kitchen, told all the cooks to stand back and after a little while I got the following:

A plate (and I mean ½ a loaf) of sourdough toast.

A plate of sliced tomatoes.

A plate of bacon.

A plate of hash browns (Audrey style).

A plate with two steaks cooked medium rare (The way I like them).

A plate of fried eggs (I think there were four).

Coffee, orange juice and milk.

The food just kept coming. I felt bad now. There was no way I could eat all of this.

Then I got the bill…$2.50.