Margaret Johnson is devastated by the loss of Betsy.
Even days after giving that interview, the 64-year-old still cries in grief.
"Betsy's gotten me through a lot," Johnson said while wiping away tears. "She's real to me."
Betsy - as a Tulsa police officer learned after a few minutes of initial confusion - was Johnson's rusted blue 1987 Chevrolet van that cost $800 and took eight months to pay off. She's always referred to by name.
They were together for five years.
Betsy was Johnson's first major purchase as a single woman after splitting from her husband of 32 years.
On Sept. 3, between 7:35 and 9:30 a.m., Betsy was stolen from the Clairemont Apartments parking lot in the 2200 block of East 59th Street.
Johnson, who is disabled, is left with no transportation or means to get another car.
"They took my connection to the world, my independence," she said. "We've been through so much together. She was my safety net."
'She ... made me feel safe': Theft is the most frustrating of crimes.
It's premeditated. It's selfish. It's lazy. It's personal.
Not only is there the loss of a vehicle or items, there is a loss of a sense of safety.
"I feel violated," Johnson said. "Right now, if I could just get her back. I know she's hurting and crying somewhere."
Betsy wasn't a luxury ride.
She didn't have working air conditioning, the heater was often on the fritz, one side was smashed in, and a fender was a bit lopsided.
When she did break down, a friend of Johnson's would help out.
"She's like me - a little old and decrepit, but we're still here," Johnson said. "I babied her. She was a big ol' van and made me feel safe. She was mine."
Johnson doesn't venture far from her home.
She used to take Betsy out with her dog, Bailie, to Sonic and a nearby grocery store.
"People know us around the neighborhood," she said. "I don't want to go far in case I have to be towed."
Johnson has battled medical issues, including a diagnosis of Crohn's disease in her 20s, a pacemaker, arthritis and migraines.
And although she has friends who offer to take her to the doctor, she doesn't want to depend on them.
"The thieves made it so much harder for me," she said. "They turned a 15-minute trip to the doctor into a two-hour bus ride one way. I get by on very little a month and can't replace her. I don't have the ability to make money because of my health.
"The worse part is they took something they already had. They had a car. They just were taking her to steal for money or vandalism."
'Bring her back to me': Betsy is among 1,572 auto thefts reported in Tulsa so far this year.
It's been a problem in Johnson's neighborhood, with 93 automobiles taken within her ZIP code since January.
The same morning Betsy disappeared, a neighbor reported that the hubcaps had been stolen off her car.
After the destructive late July windstorm, a worker clearing the debris had a truck swiped from the street.
Johnson said nearby higher-crime apartment complexes have gated entrances, which forces those banned from visiting the properties into neighboring parking lots.
"It's a spillover," she said. "Our little community is good, but we have to deal with all that."
Still, Johnson holds out hope.
"To carry on, I have to forgive," she said. "If I don't, it will only make things worse on all of us. There has to be some goodness in the people who took Betsy. They can't all be bad.
"I'm just having to pray for them and hope they bring her back to me. They are young - they can make money legitimately, and they don't have to do this.
"No matter what though, I'm going to keep going. Until God makes his final decision, I have to keep going."
Original Print Headline: Theft not victimless crime
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The exercise is designed to create an environment in which Army and Air National Guard units work together with civilian agencies in response to a natural disaster.
The bus had two occupants, a driver and an 8-year-old girl. The driver had a suspended license, police said.
