"I sprint towards him thinking, 'This is going to fucking hurt, goddamn he's big.' I hit him center mass with my best football tackle possible at the exact same time the other guard jumps onto his upper half. Timber. Subject falls down, and we all pile on top of him. He busts his face all over the rocks, is yelling and spitting blood all over us. We get him cuffed and bring his legs up like a hog tie. We hold him in the snow like that until PD shows up. He yells, cries, and tries to break out of the cuffs (that doesn't happen in real life, by the way). PD arrives and takes him in."
It wasn't nearly as kinky as it sounds.
Turns out the guy had been bluffing about the gun. But that doesn't really matter -- in the eyes of the law, it may as well be the same thing. In general, mall shoplifting is a way bigger deal than you think: If a thief ever lifts more than a couple spare sets of tube socks, chances are they're not just grabbing items for themselves. Instead, they're boosters for organized retail crime rings:
"Yes," says Bob, "there is an underground market for retail merchandise and groceries, as silly as that sounds. The front-line workers that do the shoplifting sell it to the distributors to make their crack money and support their habits."
A "fence" gives a "booster" a list of products, and the booster steals them and sells them to the fencer for 10 percent to 25 percent of the price tag. The industry is massive. Some estimates put it at $37 billion a year, on track with the entire American sports industry or all the art sold anywhere on Earth. The inevitable Godfather reboot should realistically be about the black-market Old Navy industry.
"I know you charged me 50 percent for those slacks, Fredo. You broke my heart."