This vignette is brought to you by the altered state of mind brought on by participation in a BarBri course.
Crimes of Intent
He felt as though he were sleepwalking. The armored van stood in front of him, a dull gray block, its back doors hanging open. The driver, he saw, was walking away, calling out to someone as he opened the bank door, a jovial greeting. The shotgun leaned against the side of the van, asking a pretty woman in green for a light, starting up a conversation. Social lekking. One of the most powerful, all-encompassing, insidious urges a human being is completely unaware of.
As he walked toward the van, his ears rang. His vision blurred and grayed. The only thing in focus was the large bag in the back of the van.
But he was not thinking of the bag. He forgot, for a moment, all the reasons he might need the money. Crushing student loans, no job prospects. Credit card debt mounting higher. That troublesome lump in his armpit that he had ignored all the way through school, when he actually had insurance, but that now had grown too large to ignore.
All he could think of was the ringing in his ears, and the way the sunlight had gone gray. He reached the back of the van, extended his arm toward the bag, feeling as though he were watching a movie. He was not in control of his body. It was moving of its own accord.
Through the silence in his brain, his professor's voice echoed: "Larceny is the taking and carrying away of tangible personal property of another by trespass with intent to permanently deprive the other of his interest in the property."
He thought, "This is stupid."
He lowered his arm.