This is the pitch I submitted to This American Life

It's the story of a found laptop and two womens' three year adventure trying to get the laptop back to the previous owner. In the process, the two women learn about the Mann (Lucas Mann) and develop a kind of remote bond with him through the data on his laptop. Ultimately, after years of near-psychotic stalking, Lucas Mann was unearthed through the miracle of the retelling of the story and the revival of a Google search.

This is our story: The Lucas Mannhunt

In late December of 2003, I was bringing chicken noodle soup to my best friend, Vanessa. She had come down with a flu I had so helpfully given her. I felt guilty and like doing a good deed.

In the road was a black case. It hovered and dropped as I drove up. It called to me.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I called Vanessa and asked if I should leave it or take it.

She confirmed: it would also call to the myriad homeless people in the area and, being an honest person, I knew I could trust myself to find the owner and get it back to him. Surely there was a business card in the case. I could find the owner quickly and return his case. But there was no business card. There was no immediate identification. I opened the case and it was a Smithsonian-ready laptop. The thing was old, but loved.

I shoved the laptop in my car for amateur forensic hour later.

At home, I opened the laptop with all the excitement of a child discovering a time capsule. There was no password protection so I immediately dove into his email in search of an address.

I mailed. It bounced.

I found a resume on the desktop and called all the contact numbers. They were disconnected.

On the phone with Vanessa, she walked me through looking through the history (I have to talk with Lucas about whether he wants to talk about the contents on the air, so this will have to remain a mystery). There was nothing to identify him. I did a Google search and couldn't find the Lucas we were looking for.

It looked like we had just accidentally stolen a laptop.

And then, on the desktop, I noticed a folder titled "Lucas and Alanis." Thinking it must be some Photoshopped fantasy of the owner and Alanis Morrissette, I opened it and started opening the photos. It was the ACTUAL Alanis Morrissette and Lucas, looking fun-loving and charming. They were horsing around. I started liking him. He looked fun. She was painting his toenails in one photo. In another, she was playfully punching him in the jaw. In yet another, she was giving him a wedgie, a look of staged surprise on his face.

I was hooked.

I started reading the essays saved on the computer. I started reading his emails.

I invited Vanessa over. Before we opened the laptop together, we watched the French film, Amelie. We knew we were going to embark on a journey to find Lucas and this journey could turn ugly. We could take the data in the computer brain and use it for good or for evil.

This wasn't going to be an evil journey as long as we were on watch. Not on our watch. Not for Lucas.

But these things can quickly veer off the track of what we want and into the track of psychotic stalker stumbling.

Vanessa and I are part of a huge community of friends in Los Angeles and we put the word out: Look for Lucas Mann. Look for Lou Mann (Lucas's father). Look for any connection possible.

We got back Lou's cell phone number almost immediately. He had worked at House of Blues headquarters and my friend's roommate had the number. I called and left the shadiest, most cryptic message ever: "I have something of your son's. He needs it back. Please call me or have him call me as soon as possible." I left my number and waited.

Our little radio station, Theory Radio (www.theoryradio.org), seemed like a good venue to publicize our desperate search. We shared the Lucas story, including personal information and some emails, with the radio listeners (only about 12 listeners, but hey). Through technical difficulties, much of our broadcast was lost, but our listeners were equally dedicated to the search.

Other information started coming in slowly (I won't break down the semi-legal methods of acquisition): someone had an address and a phone number.

We started planning a poster campaign and a parade. We wanted to make this really special for Lucas. He was our friend. I kind of wanted to date Lucas. This had to be REALLY special. We arranged for the "mayor" of our community to give the laptop to Lucas.

Unfortunately, he had recently moved and his phone number was, again, disconnected.

We had to shelve the project. It was becoming an obsession. Unhealthy.

Vanessa put away the laptop and we stopped the mad hunt. I was really sad to see Lucas go, but we had real lives to deal with. Things happen. Hobbies fade.

A week ago, I was recounting the story to a guy I'm dating. He's weird and I thought he might appreciate the story. He said there was absolutely no way that I couldn't find Lucas. There must be some Google trail.

So I searched the next morning and HEY! There was the Mann! I found him!

I emailed the support address of his website and told him the story. He was touched. This is the part where Lucas has to tell the rest of the story.

Separately.