Landfill Liberation
So few institutions in government are more devoted to efficiency than two counties sharing one inmate. It is a fine arrangement, rather like neighbors borrowing each other's lawn mower, except this particular piece of borrowed property possessed the inconvenient habit of walking away.
Storey County had been entrusted with a Washoe County inmate assigned to a work crew at the Lockwood Landfill, and somewhere between civic duty and garbage collection, young Chase Orput apparently decided that the finest view in Nevada lay somewhere beyond the horizon. But one cannot help but admire the geography of this affair.
A Washoe County prisoner was laboring in Storey County, where he escaped from a landfill in Lockwood, prompting deputies from both counties to scramble across the sagebrush in pursuit of a fellow whose legal résumé consisted not of grand larceny or train robbery, but misdemeanor charges involving drug paraphernalia and failing to maintain proof of insurance. It seems Nevada has discovered that paperwork can inspire pursuits every bit as energetic as bank robbery once did.
The authorities responded with admirable enthusiasm. A shelter-in-place order descended upon the good people of Lockwood, who were instructed to remain indoors and not answer their doors unless greeted by law enforcement. There is something distinctly modern about a neighborhood being advised to barricade itself against a fellow whose greatest visible weapon was a striped uniform and an apparent appreciation for fresh air.
Now, that uniform deserves special attention. Officials thoughtfully informed the public that the black-and-white striped inmate clothing could be turned inside out, whereupon it would become gray.
The revelation transformed an ordinary prison uniform into something resembling political promises, one appearance on the outside, quite another within. A man wearing stripes might become a man wearing gray with nothing more than a bit of determined tailoring, proving once again that color is often a matter of perspective.
Deputies searched roads, fields, and the countryside stretching toward Canyon Way while patrol cars multiplied like jackrabbits after a spring rain. Residents witnessed enough flashing lights to believe that either a dignitary had arrived or the state had declared war upon tumbleweeds. The shelter-in-place order was finally lifted after more than seven hours, though the hunt itself continued, reminding everyone that bureaucracy may occasionally relax, but it rarely admits defeat.
Meanwhile, Secret Witness offered a $500 reward for information leading to Mr. Orput's arrest. It is comforting to know that liberty, at least temporary liberty, has an advertised market value. Somewhere, an accountant undoubtedly calculated that the reward represented an economical investment compared with the overtime required to chase one determined pedestrian across northern Nevada.
The entire episode leaves one pondering whether the landfill was truly the least desirable place in the arrangement. Perhaps Mr. Orput merely concluded that even the open desert offered better scenery than sorting refuse beneath the Nevada sun.
History has shown that men have crossed oceans in search of freedom. In this case, one crossed a work site and managed to keep two sheriff's offices thoroughly occupied.
The search continues, and anyone spotting Chase Orput is urged to call 911 immediately rather than attempt to settle the matter personally. After all, there are already two sheriff's offices involved, an army of patrol cars, and enough official attention to make a humble landfill the most closely watched patch of dirt in Nevada.
It is difficult to imagine that the garbage has ever received such distinguished company.
UPDATE:
A citizen recognized the wandering traveler near Interstate 80 and summoned the authorities, while deputies, Sparks police officers, and even a drone joined the chase. The adventure ended without fanfare as deputies safely returned him to custody after a medical evaluation. His original 90-day sentence has now been extended to include additional escape charges, serving as another reminder that the shortest distance between two bad decisions is usually a trip back to jail.
