Diane Smith, Pillar of Society

I’ve been given an assignment: commemorate Diane
With a poem of admiration, but I don’t know if I can.
When it comes to Smith, here, there’s not much good to say,
My offering of verse, I fear, must be an exposé.

Diane, she is a wily one; though she’s just seventeen,
She’s mastered a peculiar art: she knows to flee the scene.
When a fire’s been reported or a vandal can’t be found,
The officers are thwarted; Diane’s just not around.

When a car’s been broken into or a hefty sum is lost
Or a kitten has been eaten or a boundary’s been crossed,
It’s the strangest situation, for each and every time,
Diane is on vacation at the moment of the crime.

The bane of the police force, the terror of the town,
She'd likely steal the floorboards if they were not bolted down.
She’s a master of evasion and her treasons are concealed;
There’s been not one occasion when her con has been revealed.

Her mugshot won’t be posted on the walls of local shops;
She’s never on a wanted list; she’s never been on Cops.
Her guilt is never proven, but we all can take the hints
When Diane’s found removin’ traces of her fingerprints.

And here is your disclaimer: now, none of that was true.
It’s simply more exciting than the usual review.
I'm the first to be suggesting she’s a marvelous delight,
(But I'll bet she’s found digesting some poor kittens late at night).