“Hey look,” I said to Jadey as we waited in the Chipotle drive-thru. “You did awesome at Starbucks – you really helped that girl, but this is the kind of situation where things can get stupid and out of control quick. If you’re going to be with me – I need you to do exactly what I say. That might mean waiting in the car – even if it’s boring, ok?”

Jadey didn’t agree right away but also didn’t protest right away like she was prone to.

Before I could add on, the kid at the window leaned out and handed me our bag of food.

“At least for the cost you can feel the heft in it,” I said as I passed the bag over to Jadey.

She quickly extracted her burrito bowl and popped off the lid, digging in.

“You’re not going to prep my burrito for me?” I protested.

“Dad,” Jadey replied through a mouthful of rice and shredded beef, “you can’t eat a Chipotle burrito while you drive. They’re huge.”

She used two hands to extract the foil-wrapped behemoth from the bag to show me.

“Why would they make it that big?” I laughed. “At least I got my money’s worth?”

She dropped it back into the bag and placed it at her feet, then returned to her food.

“We’re heading right down the street here,” I said as I pulled into traffic. “Hold onto your food.”

We pulled up to the tire warehouse right at 12:30. There were several patrol cars stationed about. One cop was out directing traffic to continue creeping forward. The others were standing in the shade, talking to a warehouse employee.

“Alright, kid,” I said to Jadey as I put the car in park, “stay here and work on that burrito bowl. I’m just going to talk to those cops right there.”

I got out of the car and situated myself as I approached. The heat was still obnoxious, but I could feel the relief as soon as I stepped into the shadow of the building.

“Hey, detective,” one of the officers said as I walked up. “This is Antonio. He runs the warehouse here.”

I shook hands with the man named Antonio. He looked overheated and tired.

“Exciting day, eh?” I offered.

He shook his head.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said dryly. “As soon as we send out a truck, there’s a call for another. I only sell to tire shops. I don’t do retail directly to customers or nothing. But that hasn’t kept people from asking. One guy even walked off with one in each arm before you all showed up. I told him – I said, ‘You gonna mount ‘em yourself?’ But I let him leave.”

“Best thing to do on a day like this,” I said. “No use getting hurt over a couple tires. Was he armed?”

Antonio shrugged. “He said he was, but I didn’t see anything.”

I nodded, then turned to the nearest officer.

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked. “Jake sent me over here – said you guys needed help.”

“Well, we’re gonna help Antonio here secure the place so that he can keep getting tires out,” the officer replied. “These other guys showed up since I called in for help, so I think we’re good on presence. We’ve been hearing things have been stupid at the parking garage all morning though. And since the news started spreading, it’s getting worse. The copycats – everything.”

“What?” I shot back. “I thought we told the local channels to keep quiet for now. When did that start?”

“No, man,” the officer said. “Social media and stuff. Didn’t you see the video of the guys with the spears? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been lugging my kid around all morning,” I shot back.

The officer sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Here, look,” he said, turning shoulder to shoulder with me.

His Instagram feed showed a video from inside the parking garage. The person recording was crouched behind a car, peeking around the back. A team of men, dressed in mismatched mechanic-style coveralls, walked through the garage. Their faces were obscured by masks. Each carried a long metal spear. The weapons looked sleek and modern with a long but stout tip. As they walked, they took turns systematically piercing all four tires on each car.

“They spread out after the garage,” the officer said. “They left most of the spears behind. But obviously you don’t need something that heavy to slash a tire. That whole end of town is a gnarled mess though. We’ve got dozens of patrol cars over there, and now they can’t get out. These guys keep moving in behind and causing more chaos.”

“Where else can we pull back-up from?” I asked.

“They already pulled a bunch from the volleyball tournament across town,” he replied.

“Security at the convention center is crap though,” I said, shaking my head.

“I know,” he laughed. “That’s why they were there in the first place. But we need everyone we can get.”

“We’ve got to find these guys – or start thinning them out,” I said, watching the video on his phone loop again.

Suddenly, we heard shouting behind us. The cop who was out directing traffic had his taser drawn and was barking orders at two people on foot. An older man was holding a teenage boy by the collar and shaking his fist in his face. A couple of the officers and I started walking over – calm but deliberate. I passed my car as I walked toward the street. Jadey was turned around in her seat on her knees and watching the spectacle unfold. She looked at me as I passed her window.

“You want your burrito?” she mouthed silently.

I shook my head no.

“Stay in the car,” I mouthed back.

I could hear the car doors lock as I approached the commotion.

Matt Hebert is an engineer and self-published author. His dopamine-fueled creative pursuits have spanned from chicken keeping, sand sculpture, acting, and public speaking, but writing is nearest and dearest to his heart. He lives in Bellevue with his wife and two daughters. You can find him on Instagram at @jerkofalltradeshebert or email him at matt.hebert.books@gmail.com

Opinions expressed by columnists in The Daily Record are not necessarily those of its management or staff, and do not constitute an endorsement or recommendation. Any errors or omissions should be called to our attention so that they may be corrected. Contact us at news@omahadailyrecord.com.