🍗 Ten Wings, A Brick, And A $10K Meltdown: The DoorDash Delivery That Turned Into A Crime Scene 💥 Ten chicken wings, two phone apps, and a shattered windshield. If you think that sounds like the start of a bad joke, it is not. It is a real late-night delivery gone sideways in Milwaukee, and the fallout is the kind of story that makes you stare at your own food order confirmation and wonder how we got here.
.jpg "A DoorDash delivery in Milwaukee")
On July 11, Milwaukee driver Faith Morris picked up a “high-priced” late-night order, buckled her kids into the car, and headed out to deliver what should have been a routine ten-piece. Minutes later, her phone service cut off because of an overdue bill, her DoorDash app stopped loading, and the address refused to populate. She waited outside the customer’s home while trying to get service restored, then returned home to cancel and regroup. That is where the story should have ended. It did not.
According to reports, the customer, identified as 22-year-old Janiyah Jones, allegedly tracked Morris down and vandalized her car with a brick and tire iron, causing around $10,000 in damage. Prosecutors later filed felony-level property damage charges.
The timeline matters here because it separates inconvenience from criminality. The incident itself was July 11, while the quote that turned this case viral came on August 5, when Morris, still stunned, told local news, “She did this over a ten-piece chicken wing!” That single line captured the absurdity of the moment, but the case did not stay a meme. By mid-August, the story moved from a local oddity to a formal criminal complaint, with investigators saying they matched Ring doorbell video with prior bodycam footage to identify the suspect.
The jaw-dropper detail is the alleged tracking. Reports state the customer kept contacting Morris for roughly an hour after the failed order, then showed up at her home, where video captured the smashing of her SUV windows. DoorDash called the behavior “uncalled for, unacceptable, and disturbing,” permanently banned the customer, and emphasized that the company never shares workers’ home addresses. That last line is crucial because the fear of being found at home is every gig worker’s nightmare.
Legally, the stakes are not small. In Wisconsin, criminal damage to property over $2,500 can be a Class I felony, with up to three and a half years in prison plus fines. With damages estimated at $10,000, the charges fall squarely in felony territory.
Set the legalese aside for a second and look at the human picture. A driver takes a lucrative order on a late shift, with kids in the car because real life is messy and childcare does not follow app pings. The phone shuts off mid-run, which is brutal but relatable in a world where one billing slip can cut you off from your entire income stream. The driver tries to fix it, the customer gets angry, and instead of filing a complaint in the app or contacting support, someone allegedly grabs a brick. Glass rains down. A month of income evaporates while a 2024 SUV sits undrivable. Somewhere between a craving for hot wings and the dopamine hit of being right online, the line between consumer and vigilante gets crossed.
This is not just a Milwaukee story. It is a gig economy story. We have trained ourselves to expect instant everything, and when the instant breaks, people do too. Delivery apps flatten the relationship between customer and worker into a five-star scale that punishes delays and glitches. Drivers know one bad rating can tank their acceptance rate, their Top Dasher status, their earnings that week. Customers know that complaining can unlock refunds and credits fast. Now add late-night, a “high-priced” order, and the potent mix of hunger and suspicion that someone took your food. The app becomes the referee for a confrontation it cannot physically prevent and often cannot de-escalate. That is how a routine chicken wing run becomes a police report.
DoorDash’s statement matters beyond PR. When a platform says it does not share a home address, it is trying to reassure millions of people that accepting orders will not lead a stranger to their front door. But the reality is more complicated. Drivers’ routes, drop-off notes, and timing can create patterns anyone on the block can piece together. A determined person can follow a car from a restaurant. A furious caller can keep hammering a number that rang once. The fix has to be multi-layered: better privacy defaults, stronger in-app call masking, clearer protocol when a delivery fails mid-route, and faster live support when tempers spike. Local police, too, have to take stalking and vandalism seriously when they intersect with app-based work, because the physical consequences land on real people long after the viral clip scrolls away.
There is also the soft part of this story people do not like to say out loud. Food delivery has turned us into armchair managers of invisible labor. We track the little car on the map and curse when it stops at a red light like laws do not apply to our cravings. We assume the driver is an extension of the restaurant, and the restaurant is an extension of us. We forget there is a person whose phone plan has a due date, whose kids fell asleep in the back seat, whose gas tank is a budgeting choice, not a company benefit. When that person says the app died and they need to go home to Wi-Fi, the correct response is not to grab a tire iron. It is to accept that glitches happen and request a refund. The difference between civilized and criminal is sometimes as thin as a moment’s self-control.
Jones is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and courts will handle the facts. Still, the reporting paints a vivid picture of what investigators say happened and how they connected the dots. The law will decide where this conduct falls on the spectrum of property crimes. What we, the public, have to decide is whether our expectations of app workers are humane or impossible. When we outsource our errands to strangers, we inherit a duty to keep those interactions civil, even when the fries are getting cold.
There is a practical takeaway for drivers and customers. Drivers need the dull safety habits that never make headlines: never let a caller pull your home address from panic chatter, rely on in-app communication when possible, document everything the moment a delivery goes off-script, and report harassment immediately. Customers need a checklist of their own: message through the app, give a grace window, ask for support, and if the order falls apart, request a refund. People over pizzas. Safety over rage. Refunds over felony charges.
And because the internet loves a refrain, here it is again, straight from the person who lived it: “She did this over a ten-piece chicken wing.” The quote is ridiculous on its face. It is also a mirror. If a snack can turn into shattered glass, what else are we letting our tempers break?
.jpg "A DoorDash delivery in Milwaukee")
Here is the plot twist you did not order. The case will play out in court, the SUV will eventually get fixed, and the viral clip will fade. The hunger, the apps, and the pressure cooker we built around them are staying. So the next time your delivery map stalls, ask yourself one question before you act: do you want the wings, or do you want to be right? Choose wisely. The price tag is higher than $10,000.
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