Baltimore Sun Editor Eulogizes Black Thug Who Stole His Car in 2003 (he had prior arrests for attempted murder and drug charges)

"People of their status deserve to experience the next era of western civilization." 

- Bane, The Dark Knight Rises

The United States of America is irredeemable. As John Derbyshire noted, Europe seems to be much worse, as "the national institutions of the West are now fiercely protective of Muslims and hostile to the native ancestral populations."

But it's okay. 

Seriously. 

Relax. 

Breath. 

Please. 

In 2003, Baltimore Sun Senior Editor of Design of Adam Marton had his car stolen by a black criminal named Thelonious; in 2015, Thelonious was murdered in Baltimore, and Marton penned a lament to his life lived without the benefit of white privilege...

We were all born into a world of which prior events were beyond our hand in shaping or influencing, and as such, we can only survive the mistakes of those who came before us. 

For in the end, the tragedy of our time was once evidence began to accumulate that we were on the wrong path, those in power kept going down the same route with a ferocity bordering on the fanatical. 

But this suicidal action was necessary to provide the cataclysmic examples to finally shake enough people from their apathy. 

Adam Marton, the senior editor of interactive design at The Baltimore Sun, has just penned a column serving as the fitting epitaph to an era I'm becoming increasingly convinced is coming to an end. 

He has helped define the mindset that has worked to crack the foundations of a truly once noble civilization, but one whose leaders and those who they promote have ensured is nearly its finality. [Homicide victim 212 and my stolen car, Baltimore Sun, 1-8-16]:

Last week, one of my colleagues at The Sun tweeted out the names of all of Baltimore's 344 homicide victims in 2015, and Thelonious Monk — No. 212 by most counts — caught my eye. 

Thelonious was a young black male killed by gunfire, placing him among the vast majority of the people killed here last year. He died on Aug. 26 after being shot in the chest at least once in Southwest Baltimore; he was 28. 

In August of 2003, a prosecutor had called to tell me that my stolen car had been recovered and that the perpetrator was a juvenile by that name. I can't be certain it was the same person, though he was the right age — just 16 at the time. 

My car was stolen one summer night after someone fished my keys out of the night drop of an auto shop on Howard Street. I felt victimized and was worried about my car and car loan, which I was still paying off. But everyone in Baltimore has a crime story, and many are much more catastrophic and scarring than a stolen Nissan Altima. 

In the end it was barely an inconvenience, such is my solidly middle-class life. My car insurance quickly covered a loaner car. My wife and I went on a long beach vacation as we had planned. My parents offered to lend me a car, I took the train to work, and I rode my bike around town. I had a network, savings, family support and a backup plan. 

I received a call a few weeks later that my car had been found and was at the Baltimore City impound lot, a sprawling complex of junked cars and confiscated dirt bikes. A prosecutor said a boy named Thelonious Monk was arrested while driving my car and explained that while he likely wouldn't be charged with this crime, the young man was in serious trouble with the law and wouldn't see the streets for some time. This seemed fine to me. 

I went to the impound lot, recovered my car and drove to Lake Roland — what I considered a peaceful spot — to assess the damage. I saw that the thief had cut my steering wheel and lightly smashed my bumper. I also saw that he had installed a baby seat and a subwoofer and that the car was strewn with job applications from Pizza Hut and other fast food restaurants. 

It was, and remains, one of the most heartbreaking scenes of my life. Our lives crossed, however oddly and briefly, and I can't help but think that he probably never had a chance — a chance to escape or a chance to succeed. He likely never had the opportunities I have always enjoyed: a safe neighborhood, good schools, a non-negotiable college education and easy entrance into the job market as a result. 

I originally published a shorter version of this essay on social media last week, and since then I have heard from many people who knew the Thelonious who was killed this year, including his sister, cousin, the mother of his child and a Baltimore City public defender. 

The Maryland Judiciary Case Search database shows that Thelonious Monk had been arrested many times in his short life for theft, assault, attempted murder and drug charges and served time at Jessup Correctional Institute and the Cecil County Detention Center. But many of those who reached out stated that he was trying to get his life back on track despite bad choices in the past and that his loss has affected his family deeply. He has a newborn child he will never meet. It is obvious from these messages how these murders of young men take a particularly personal toll on those who have maintained hope and tried to help along the way. 

After publishing the story on The Sun's website, Thelonious' mother called and insisted that her son had not stolen my car, but because juvenile records are sealed and I was told he wouldn't be charged with the theft anyway, I have no way to know for sure. 

But I can't help but wonder, if he was the one who took my car, was he trying to make a break for it? I wish he had made it. 

Rest in peace, young man, I will never forget you.

In a sane world, the state would have executed Thelonious in front of his peers as reminder that punishment must be unusual or it will serve no purpose (as it did toward the end of the great experiment in black empowerment during the terminal stages of democracy), and his mother would have been flogged in public as well. 

Thelonious Monk engaged in theft, assault, attempted murder, peddled drugs and stole Mr. Marton's car, for which he casually lamented represented his Baltimore crime story. In what type of society should wee become accustomed to being victims and then publish screeds as to how they feel sorry for the perpetrator of the violence making Baltimore a city proving all those white racist predictions from 100-150 years correct? 

So some black 16-year-old stole your car in 2003 and put a baby seat in the back, and you consider this the most heartbreaking moment of your life? 

I consider what blacks have done to the civilization white people long ago built and tried to maintain with restrictive covenants and residential segregation, only to be overturned by weepy eyed white weasels committed to suicidal egalitarianism a far more heartbreaking scenario than a few unfilled applications to Pizza Hut. 

The world where Adam Marton, Tricia Bishop or Marin Alsop are allowed to have any hand in policy or decision making is coming to an end. 

For in their world, people like Thelonious Monk or Freddie Gray were celebrated, with the latter even having a youth empowerment named after him. 

If you don't get how irredeemable the situation is, you probably find the sight of a Pizza Hut application in the back of Marton's stolen car a heartbreaking image as well. 

But it's okay. 

Seriously. 

It is my greatest hope that people like Marton, Bishop, Alsop, and the leaders of the national institutions of West live long enough to see the next era of Western Civilization.