Living in South Asia, I wasn't that surprised when my car was stolen from the school where I worked. By evening I had resigned myself to the fact that my car was probably being smuggled into Taliban territory in thousands of pieces. You can imagine my shock when I looked out my window the next morning and there was my car.
Not really knowing what to do, I called the police to see if they had recovered it and dropped it off during the night for some reason. They hadn't. The disturbing thing was that the car had been stolen from my workplace and dropped at my residence. It was either the work of a miracle or a stalker. I asked the police to come check the car and make sure it was safe, since there could have been explosives or something attached to it. Who knows, especially with another major attack on foreigners at the Danish Embassy just one-day prior.
Knowing the police were probably not good with direction, as not many people seem to be around here, I went outside to try to flag them down. I felt as if my heart had leapt into my throat as I passed by the car, wondering if it would blow up. The police and my landlord's family came outside. I guess I really overestimated the local police because I thought they'd have some way to check the car for explosives. Instead they asked, "Have you opened it yet?" We said no. "Ok then open it and check it." The police wanted us to check it ourselves! They didn't have any way to check the car. No dogs, no sensors, nothing. No wonder the evidence in important cases like Benazir Bhutto's assassination is fumbled. My landlord opened the car and we checked it out. Everything was there. Stereo, flash drive, owner's manual, everything. Nice rims and tires still on the car. The only things I couldn't find were my laundry slip, some personal papers, and my precious Lonely Planet Pakistan wit hundreds of handwritten travel notes in the margins.
The locks had not been struggled with and there was no evidence of hot wiring. The seat was pulled back about a foot further than I usually have it, so it must have been driver by someone tall. A few things that were in the backseat, window covers etc., were moved to the trunk so I'm guessing that there were at least three people on the joyride. License plates were still the same. The handbrake was pulled up, and I didn't realize until later that whoever stole it had driven around without disengaging it. We had just replaced the brakes a week before the theft, and the pedal was going to the floor. This type of reckless driving made me suspect that the culprit was students from the school.
"You should be very happy. You must oblige us for this work," said the policeman. I'm thinkin', "What work, whoever took the car brought it straight back to me and it wasn't actually found by the police." Well that didn't prevent them from getting a little chai-pani' (tea and water) of out my friend. With my own eyes and ears I watched him open his wallet to give a 1000 note to the policeman, and the policeman said "Oh, give 500 more." It was all in the local language, but I understood. Then when we thought everything was finished with, another policeman showed up, not in uniform, saying that now he should take the car to the station and we needed to pay a duty to get it out! Not only that, but he said we'd have to go to court to clear the claim that we put in yesterday. Unreal. The policeman said that I should give him the key and he would drive it to the station himself. I just refused. I suggested that me and the landlord's son should go with him in the car. I didn't want to give my car keys to anyone, especially now that I had the car back in perfect condition. And why should I pay a duty when the thief so courteously dropped the car off at my doorstep?
At this point I was getting worried. The police were not concerned that someone was stalking me. Not concerned to check out if the car might blow up, and they wanted to take it for a spin themselves and then charge me to get it back! That is certainly not how it happens in the states. Well after another 1000 given to the inspector not in uniform, they agreed to let us keep the car inside the locked gate at our house. By this time more and more police were showing up, likely trying to find ways they could get their own tips'. Then the inspector man started a new ploy (likely to get more money), saying that the car was not registered in my name and so only the registered owner could go to court and clear the claim so that I can drive the car again. Ugh! Foreigners have a lot of trouble registering cars in their own names if they don't own property over here.
We needed to get the theft report cleared as soon as possible. Apparently if there's a report out for a stolen car the police can seize it, even if it's been returned to the owner. I'd heard that if the police take the car only half of it would come back.
Getting the car back at my doorstep turned out to be a lot easier than recovering it from the authority of the police. In short this incident cost us about 50,000 rupees ($833), one week without being able to drive, and two of our friends two and half full working days in the court. The money went towards court fees, police charges, lawyers' fees, a new brake job, and increased security for the car. Our friends were told at the court, "It's easier for a murderer to go on bail than for you to clear this car theft case."
My advice for anyone would be to take all precautions possible to avoid having your car stolen in the first place. Car theft is much more common here in South Asia than back in the states. A steering lock, security system, and car insurance are essential. We still don't know who took a joyride in our car, but we know that they were certainly neither thieves nor experienced drivers. Likely it was some naughty school kids who thought it would be their summer fun to pull a prank on their teachers. It would be nice if they would return my Lonely Planet and drop 50,000 rupees ($833) at my front door as well.