By Sarah Green

A story that played out late this summer could have been lifted from just about any comic book in existence: a crime, an investigation, a coalition of unlikely heroes, an appeal to human nature, and then — justice.

The fact that the story itself is about comic books is almost stranger than fiction.

In late July, Daniel Pewewardy took a box of comic books left over from a recent convention to the Lazer City Vintage booth at the Paramount Marketplace in East Wichita. Pewewardy’s microshop, Lazer City Comics, occupies a spinner rack and several shelves and boxes in the booth, which he shares with his brother and a cousin. 

Pewewardy, a librarian at the Wichita Public Library, a comedian and a community activist, is a longtime reader of comics and graphic novels. He purchased enough collections and single issues during and after the COVID-19 pandemic that he decided to resell them on online platforms as a side hustle. About a year ago, he said, a financial analysis convinced him to move toward local options for selling and marketing, including Facebook Marketplace and his brick-and-mortar location at Paramount.

“I'm just selling comics and I don't have any expectations” for financial success, Pewewardy said. “It has just been like something to do, some extra income. It's something I enjoy.” 

He visited his booth one day in early August to drop off some issues for sale when he noticed that one of his higher-priced issues was missing. 

At first, he wasn’t concerned. Shoppers often pick up items from one booth and move them to another. The antique mall has a layaway program where they set aside merchandise for buyers to pay over time. He asked the business’ sales clerks to keep an eye out for it.

A week or so later, he noticed that there were as many as 10 missing comic books, some in protective plastic cases known as “slabs,” which, all together, he had valued at almost $1,100. None of those books had been placed on layaway, nor could they be found in other locations.

That’s when he called for help.

‘Instant bridge to friendship’

Wichita has at least three shops dedicated to selling comics — four, including Pewewardy’s Lazer City Comics booth, which he jokingly describes as “Wichita’s fourth-best comic book shop.”

“We’re all friends,” said Don Woodworth, a comic book lover who, along with his wife, recently bought Wichita’s venerable Prairie Dog Comics store on West Maple. “We see each other at conventions. We see each other everywhere.”

Bam Hunter, owner of Wizard’s Alley downtown, agreed. 

“The shops aren’t enemies, because this is getting to be a thing that’s smaller and smaller,” he said. “And, really, we all love the same thing. There’s no reason to be hateful or mean to someone else.”

Woodworth and Hunter describe comic enthusiasts in Wichita as multi-generational, spanning socio-economic classes and descriptors. Customers at their stores range from kids to people in their 60s and 70s. 

“I have retired old ladies that come in once a week and buy books. I have guys and professionals out at Koch that buy books, and all of them have something they are into,” Hunter said. “Lately, it's been kind of cool to see that we've got late teens and young adults that are picking up comic books because I think there's a movement out there for physical media.” 

New comic books are released on Wednesdays. Both Wizard’s Alley and Prairie Dog have regular customers who stop by to pick up the latest copies of their favorite series, and, over time, have formed their own communities.

“We have people that come in on Wednesdays and just hang out and talk,” Woodworth said. “They buy their comics. They meet their friends, they sit around and talk about comics, or whatever. It’s kind of a gathering place. And over time, they get to know each other, and start asking, Hey, did you see the game last night?” It’s a community where you can talk about whatever’s on your mind.”

“There’s almost an instant bridge to friendship sometimes when you discover somebody else is into comic books,” Hunter said. 

A network responds

It was this constellation of fellow comic book lovers to whom Pewewardy first appealed for help. Once he determined that his missing items had been stolen, he made a social media post with names and images of the missing merchandise.

“If you see any of these books, figures, or slabs pop up locally — Marketplace, shops, shows, reseller groups, etc. — shoot us a message,” he wrote. 

Comic book enthusiasts are often highly organized and detailed. They know the exact differences between volume numbers and issue numbers, about artists and publishing companies in addition to the story lines of the series they follow. They may be what Woodworth described as “completists” who will buy multiple versions of the same issue, all with different covers. They know what’s rare and what’s common.

So the uniqueness of the collection of stolen items alerted both Woodworth and Hunter, who sent direct messages to Pewewardy on Facebook. A seller had recently approached Woodworth about buying the collection and declined his offer for all but two issues. The same person then contacted Hunter and emailed him photos of the remaining items missing from the list.

The combination of security footage from Prairie Dog and the email from Wizard’s Alley yielded enough details for Pewewardy to identify the person of interest. 

And from there he went to work, using social media and friends of friends to track down the person and others who were close to them. 

Pewewardy reached out to one of those close contacts and asked that they return the stolen items that hadn’t been resold to Wizard’s Alley – a neutral location – and for a sum of money to compensate his small business for the items that he knew had already been resold. Otherwise, he said, he was prepared to make a public call-out post that would identify them.

By 5 p.m. the next day, he had the money and the comic books, along with several volumes he hadn’t yet realized were missing from his booth. 

“I got my shit back!” Pewewardy posted on Facebook.

Human nature wins the day

Pewewardy declined to identify the people involved in the theft for this story.

“When it was over, I sent them a message and said, We’re done here.” he said. “I didn’t identify them. I got financial restitution, I got a bunch of comic books back.”

Pewewardy said that spending time in rural communities in Oklahoma as a young person gave him insight into de-escalating difficult situations. In those areas, he said, it’s more common to address issues first with confidential conversations before involving law enforcement. He said he has used social networks to find packages taken from porches and other stolen items, including his car, using that approach.

“I just think you can get a lot more done in DMs than you can in public posts and comment sections,” he said. “But being a victim sucks. Beating these guys up isn’t going to get your stuff back, and it’s not going to make you feel better. Getting retribution against them isn’t worth it if there’s some kind of moral cost.” 

For his part, Pewewardy is now a little more cautious about what he shares about his inventory online. He said he had also worked with Paramount Marketplace to step up security measures in and around his booth. Paramount staff did not respond to repeated requests for an interview for this story.

Bam Hunter, who is retired from a career in the military and in law enforcement, helped Pewewardy facilitate the return of the stolen property. He has also experienced theft and loss that has influenced his own store’s security measures. 

Yet he continues to believe that people will do the right thing, if they’re given a chance.

“If most people, even people who are probably less than savory, are treated with respect and communication, most of them are kind and will reply the same way,” he said. “And sometimes if people are given an out of a bad situation in a peaceful way, they'll take it. I like to still have some faith in humanity, even the bad ones.”

Sarah Green is a writer, editor and consultant based in Wichita. She is the Managing Director of Prairie Meadowlark, a Co-Creator of Rock Paper Feather Press, and the Curator of the Perennial Zine Collection.

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