Jorgen was, in a sense, in his element. His mind whirred, not literally like his limbs, as he considered his options. He couldn't keep going for long, fighting was out of the question (that was the point of undercutting Lucille) so either he found a really good hiding place for his large frame or he stopped.
Thing is, his shotgun would be confiscated. He was pretty sure he didn't have any permits, not existing and all, so some thing had to be done.
He formulated a crude plan in the little time he had left. In a cheap tack, he selected a building, memorising its height in relation to the others and, instead of jumping clear over it, slammed into the wall besides a window. As he did, he rammed the duffel bag holding his illegal weapon, and essentials, into the room through the window, trying to disguise the movement in the impact.
Now he was only guilty of destruction of property which he'd blame on being scared by the police. Totally fool proof, right?
Jorgen fell down to the pavement, landing with a "whoof" and putting his hands behind his head, waiting for apprehension.