Theft of S.U.V. Becomes Accidental Kidnapping Andrew Hawkins was 36 and, to strangers, probably looked fine. Articulate, living with his girlfriend in an Upper East Side apartment, he was a freelance investor and budding day trader. But it was 2008. "I had lost a ton of money in an investment I made for my parents and myself," he said. He couldn't sleep. "I think I'm an insomniac," he said. He went to Starbucks three times a day, each time ordering seven shots of espresso in a big cup, he said. One day, he and his girlfriend had been talking about grabbing a bite at the Asia de Cuba restaurant in the Morgans Hotel when, he said, he looked up at the television and saw, in the news crawl along the bottom of the screen, something about the Morgans Hotel. Oh, no, he thought. They're watching me. There was another item, in the crawl, about Sally Hansen Cosmetics, but that's not the name he saw. He said he saw his sister's name instead. He went to her and told her she was in danger. He thought: I have to run. "I ran around changing my clothes," he said. He left his apartment. He found, on East 104th Street, a sport utility vehicle idling outside a store. It was unlocked. He got in and drove away. He said he did not remember if he was surprised that afternoon when, before long, a head appeared in the rearview mirror. There was an old man in the back seat. "My daughter," the man said, in Spanish. The way Mr. Hawkins remembers it, he asked if the man was warm and turned up the air conditioner. They rode in silence. "I really can't explain it; it's all just like a dream to me," Mr. Hawkins said this week, four years later. The old man's silence "added to the whole surrealism of the whole experience," he said. The man's name was Pablo, age 72, and what Mr. Hawkins might have noticed, had he been thinking clearly, is that he suffered from dementia. His son had parked the S.U.V. for a quick run into a store. Mr. Hawkins crossed over into New Jersey and stopped at a Harley-Davidson dealership in Rochelle Park. He grabbed a Harley T-shirt. "Before I got a chance to pay for the T-shirt, I was arrested for shoplifting," he said. He told the police, "I just needed a shirt." And, according to court documents, he added: "There was an old man in the car. He got out at the dealership. The police found Pablo four hours later. He had walked a few miles away. Mr. Hawkins was charged with theft and, more seriously, kidnapping. "He was seeing devils in the trash cans," his mother, Kathy Hawkins, said. As the months dragged into years, Mr. Hawkins's pleas for leniency were offset by his erratic behavior. He was released from jail on bond, and moved to California to stay with a brother. "I missed a court date," he said. He said he had been frustrated by delays in the case. In January, a judge issued a warrant for his arrest, but set it aside for a short period to give him a chance to come back to New York on his own, which he did. Mr. Hawkins's next court date is Nov. 7. A psychiatrist hired by his defense lawyer, Hershel Katz, found that he had suffered a break from reality during the incident. But a prosecutors" psychologist found otherwise, saying Mr. Hawkins should have been able to appreciate the wrongfulness of his conduct. Since January, he has been locked up, mostly at Kirby Forensic Psychiatric Center. He has access to a telephone, which he used for an interview this week. He takes medicine, which he said helps - a little - with his insomnia. He stole a vehicle, yes. He admits that. But, he said, "I most certainly didn't intend to kidnap him." Then why, after realizing the man was in the back seat, did he not pull over and let him out? Mr. Hawkins said the idea had never occurred to him. If Pablo had asked to be let out, Mr. Hawkins likes to think he would have complied. His lawyer, Mr. Katz, said he hoped there was some way the case could move from criminal court into Manhattan Mental Health Court. But that court is designated for nonviolent crimes, not kidnapping. Prosecutors declined to comment while the case was pending. Mr. Hawkins, now 41, thinks back to that day. "You can go nuts with no sleep," he said. E-mail: crimescene@nytimes.com