In the morning, Chris woke up late to find himself still lying on top of the luggage stacked in the back of the truck. Outside, Mike built a tree house, as the gang assisted, ensuring that the bought wood was fixed on top. Chris walked over, yawning dramatically.

“What the hell is this?” Chris asked Nick and Max, who were standing nearby.

“We need a house Chris, could we steal one?” Elles answered him sarcastically.

“What the hell is with her?” Chris asked, eyeing his buddies drowsily.

“Oh, if it isn’t the great terminator!” Brian remarked affectionately, as he walked towards them.

“Hey guys, call me when this is all done, okay?” Chris scowled, heading back to the truck. “By the way, I could use a morning coffee!”

Later, in the shade of a tree, Chris was being guarded by his dog and relaxing in a folding camping chair, whilst sipping his drink and eating popcorn. The stereo was playing nearby.

Mike finished the floor and hammered the last plank into the roof. The boys moved the furniture inside after Elles kept trying to carry a huge load at once, breaking a dozen cups in the process.

“I need the fridge nearby so that we can all hear Chris stealing something from it,” Elles announced, worried by the big mouth who never seemed to stop eating.

They had three double beds, while Elles had a single bed, far from the rest. Soon, Chris had taken ownership of both the remote and the couch and he sat, changing channels for everyone whilst they sat on their beds. Again, he snacked from a huge bag of chips as Storm took up his guarding post nearby.

It wasn’t long before they were back in the local stores, breaking out with latest cell devices. Chris sat on top of the counter holding two cashiers at gunpoint.

“What’s inside the counter?” Chris asked. The cashiers offered no help until he fired a warning shot, causing them to hurriedly open up the cash drawers and fill the bag.

Storm barked at the door as the police arrived outside. By this point, every gang member had claimed a 9mm pistol and, taking cover, opened fire. They annihilated the police vehicles until some of the cops inside them were hit. The vehicles that were still able to drive sped off moments later, leaving officers down behind them.

Day after day, half of them would escape with the shopping bags, while the rest cleared the escape route. It soon became obvious that the cops hesitated to shoot back because they were just kids who also had socially active, well-known parents.

When they got back to the treehouse, speakers that they had wired across the trees like fashionable midgets, would blast out, as they celebrated their victory, playing the latest guitars and drums.

Meanwhile, the parents held a meeting at Emma’s house.

“Did anyone read the latest slurs about us on social media?” Jen asked as the women reviewed the website in question. The three men stood behind them, looking overwhelmed. “We’re being accused of being bad parents!” she bent towards the other ladies with her hands on her hips, showing her annoyance, then went quickly back to staring aimlessly into the backyard.

Emma bristled: “My innocent Elles would have never done such a thing if it wasn’t for your kid!” She reached for her cup of tea, clearly drained.

“We could very well be the reason that our kids got out of hand in the first place!” Julie added as she sat fanning herself in her seat.

“The parents of the kids should be jailed for their kid’s crime!” Grace read from her phone, holding her hot mug in the other hand. “Guys, the comments are hectic and they’ve launched a campaign against us!”

Jen, clearly worried about the ‘great escape’ escalating any further, asked: “Does anyone have any idea how are we going to find those kids before they burn down the city?”

The doorbell rang and Ivan went to see who it was. Detective Sam Copper had arrived. The officer of the law held out his badge and entered the room, even before Ivan had a chance to acknowledge his presence.

“Everyone, I’m detective Sam Copper. I am investigating this case involving your kids.” He walked a few steps, his hands reaching for his pockets.

“And it took you a week to respond to this case?” Jen asked, joining the others. “Already we have lost so much time with this case remaining unsolved, detective!”

“If you can give me time to explain myself, we can close this one within days,” Cooper responded, holding out his hands, palms open.

“Of course it’s not his kids out there, what do you expect?” Andrew asked, addressing Chris’s mother.

Jen rolled her eyes, frustrated: “Andrew, shut up, you’ve been silent throughout this meeting, so please don’t start causing trouble now!” Andrew rested his case and remained quiet in response.

Outside, Lion Street became every Journalist’s hunting ground. Mandy got ready for her live stream: “in 5, 4, 3, 2…” the cameraman rolled the tape.

“It’s been nine days since the kids of Lions Street escaped from home, and their case has now been awarded to detective Sam Copper, who promises to stop all the shooting and bring those kids safely back home!” She taped the report standing next to the detective’s code 5 black SUV.

In a two-hour drive, the news crew drove to the airport to interview Mike’s parents, Sarah and Jason Evans, who had just landed on a British airways flight. A few protesters who were holding placards containing slogans such as ‘No to bad parents!’ accompanied the news crew.

Mandy spoke into the camera: “Today we are here to hear from parents whose child is a gang member and operating among the kids of Lion Street.” They rushed towards the couple. “When did you hear about your child’s troublesome involvement with the young gang?” she ambushed them, thrusting microphones in their face the second that they had arrived via immigration.

Mr Evans answered: “We got the call from the police officers back in London and we flew here at once!” They lost the crowd of journalists, thanks to detective Copper who escorted them to his SUV and drove away fast.”

A security restrained, Gwen Harrison, from amongst the crowd, kept shouting: “Go back to where you have come from! You’ll never find your kid from here, you bad parents!”

From behind the tinted glass, Mrs Evans looked on, worn out.

***

Tell us: Do you think the media ‘helps’ or ‘hurts’ in situations like these?