Thief Stopper Uncomfortable In The Limelight

We stopped the presses the other day, but not because of one of those late-breaking scoops like you see in the movies.

This was more like the print journalism equivalent of a 21-gun salute.

The honoree was a gregarious father of two and a journeyman pressman at The Spokesman-Review.

His name is Ken Coburn, 33. He’s a lean and fit guy who wears his blond hair in a crew cut and always seems to have a smile on his face.

Coburn has worked at The Spokesman-Review since 1988.

Talk about a spring-steel spine.

While walking to work one January morning, Coburn confronted a man he believed to be a burglar. When he wouldn’t identify himself, Coburn actually snatched papers containing the name out of the crook’s wallet.

Coburn gave the information to Spokane police, who later made the arrest.

“He should be very proud,” says a duly impressed Spokane Police Capt. Glenn Winkey. “That is above and beyond the call of what we would expect our citizens to be involved in.”

No kidding.

While the presses were silent, Police Chief Roger Bragdon presented the blue-collar hero with a citizen commendation. It was the second such award given in a workplace since Bragdon began the program after becoming chief a month ago.

“It’s hard for me to take a compliment,” admits Coburn, embarrassed by the attention. “I mean, what’s the difference between being brave and being stupid?

“When you think about it, it’s a fine line. So maybe it was just stupidity and I got away with it.”

Whatever he calls it, his decision to get involved could inspire others to do the right thing.

It happened near the intersection of Ash and Boone.

Coburn, who walks to work every day, passed a house with an open front door. He knew the owners had been slowly renovating the modest home, but an open door so early on a cold morning struck him as odd.

Coburn kept walking. He soon encountered a shifty character lugging a microwave oven on one shoulder and toting a shop vac with his other free hand.

You didn’t need Sherlock Holmes to do the addition.

“Doing a little Christmas shopping?” asked Coburn cheerily, edging into the man’s space. “Where’d you get it?”

The middle-aged guy, dressed in a shabby black jacket, stammered a bit. The items came from somebody down the street, he said.

“There’s nobody down there,” countered Coburn.

Nervous, the man changed his story. Now the items came out of a Dumpster, he claimed.

Coburn demanded ID. The guy said he didn’t have any.

Prove it, said Coburn. Unbelievably, this dimwit dug out his wallet and opened it.

When he moved his jacket back to grab the wallet, however, the man also revealed the blunt end of an ice pick stuck into some kind of holster.

“Better believe I kept my eyes on that,” says Coburn. “If he grabbed for it, I’d have been gone.”

With the wallet open, Coburn made his move. He grabbed about five receipts, three of which had the same name on it.

It was routine police work after that.

Officers contacted the homeowners. Sure enough, a burglary had taken place. The arrest was made.

A day or two later, Coburn was asked to pick the suspect’s face out of a photo lineup.

“That’s him,” declared Coburn, pointing.

Now if all that isn’t worth stopping the presses for, what is?

“People are telling me, `Oh, you’re a hero,’ but I don’t like to hear that,” says Coburn, humble to the end.

“I see the police and they’re risking their lives every day. They’re the heroes. What I did isn’t even on the same scale.”