Policicle

Police.
Icicle.
Policicle.

I rode in the back of a squad car on this winter morning.
They were taking me AWAY from jail. That's the way you want to go (if they give you the choice)

I had walked to the station to report a theft.
I had given my roommate rent to give to the landlord (not a theft yet), he didn't give it to the landlord (almost theft/theft adjacent), and then when I found this out and asked for it back, he refused (theft time!).

When I asked for the money back, he said it belonged to the landlord.
I said, "But you didn't it to the landlord. It's either mine or his. Why would you keep it?"
He said, "I'm the mini-landlord." (That's not a thing.)

So here's what you can do when dealing with a person who thinks they're a thing that's not a thing...
Walk to the police station, tell them a reasonable and true story, and then take a ride back home with two officers, who will have the same conversation with the roommate that you did previously, only with the authority of legal knowledge and guns to back it up.

Turns out, possession isn't even close to being 9/10 of the law.
It's more like, the truth and a receipt are 10/10 of the law.
As such, he didn't get to keep 9/10 of the money. Or even 1/10.
Possession turns out to be 0/10 of the law, if you're breaking it.
(Also, sometimes possession is AGAINST the law. But that's a story for another day.)

For now, big ups to the police. (And yes, big downs to me for using the phrase "big ups." Or at least medium downs.)
But that doesn't matter, because the situation is totally in order.

My finances are in order. The police are in order. This whole damn courtroom didn't even have to be in order because it was settled at home.

Hooray the law. And civilized society. And especially police officers who didn't want to walk through the cold and their cars and their problem-solving.

Copper.
Perfect.
Copperfect.