A Dorchester crime that will remind you of the old joke about the woman carrying a bag of dog poop, only with a less satisfying ending

I come from a large family. I enjoy mentioning my family when I teach developmental psych or family systems because, well, we are all high-IQ folks with an easy temperament. Oh, and we seem to get either absolutely no common sense or a standard amount. Nothing in between. People in my family either are successful in our careers and leaders in our communities, or we're dead and/or in jail at any given time. Like, we have plenty of cases where we have kids raised in the same family, close in age, with the same two parents, and the family might have two of each, um, style.

So one time, my cousin's bag somehow ended up the police station via a bar. Not just left at a bar, but apparently someone at a bar stole it, someone else stole it from that person or blackmailed them for it or however that sort of thing is handled among ne'er-do-wells, then it eventually ended up at a police station. If you know my cousin, this doesn't seem at all unusual, except maybe the part about her managing to have lived somewhere long enough she could be easily located. (This was in the early '90s). So, officer friendly asks her to come down to the station, asks her if it's her bag. She says, yes, that's mine. Officer points to some items on the table, including a wallet, some toiletry items, and a bag of crack. Asks if she'll identify all of those as hers. Rather than doing what any other rational human would do, and saying she didn't recognize one particularly item in the array, my cousin instead said that, yes, those were all her items. She was then booked for possession, was assisted in making arrangements for someone to get her vehicle and her things, then when said person arrived, she apparently expressed surprise that not all of the personal items were going to be turned over to the individual.