Break-In

So my weekend basically sucked. Here are some notable details:

On Saturday afternoon, while we were out, some lovely individuals broke into our house. They shattered the window slats on our sunroom, cut the screen, and wandered through the house. They rummaged through drawers, and took my new 80 gig iPod. Bridgette was working an overnight shift, so I was alone to deal with the mess and call the police. After the cops left, I realized that they had also taken the spare keys to the house and to our Toyota Camry, along with an extra garage door opener. I called the police with this information, but they got annoyed and told me to call back on Monday so they could file it in the report.

Saturday night was an anxious time. Thankfully, Todd and Adam came over to keep me company, and after securing the house as much as I possibly could, I went over to Kevin’s to spend the night. It sucked, but I read the Bible a lot and talked on the phone to my wife pretty regularly. We were both exhausted from stress, crying, and fear.

I spent Sunday morning working on re-programming the garage door opener and calling around to get quotes on security systems. Around noon, as I was on the phone, I peered out my window and noticed that our garage was opened. Running out the door, I saw that the Camry was gone. In a blind panic, I called 911 and saw that two of my neighbors were already outside on the phone with the police, having watched the whole thing happen themselves. They said three 15 or 16 year old kids with oversized white t-shirts and black do-rags managed to get the garage door open and peel out of the driveway achieving heretofore unknown speeds down the alley with my 2001 Toyota. Stunned, I waited for the police to arrive and we all gave our reports.

(Incidentally, that police officer apologized profusely for taking 10 minutes to get there – he said he was working down near Plymouth and got called up to us because of how drastically undermanned they are. Thanks, Mayor Rybak.)

All things considered, the afternoon was actually pretty cool. My parents showed up, along with my brother, and together we put in new locks to the house, put in a new secure door between the kitchen and sunroom, and made a number of other helpful improvements. It seemed like our whole neighborhood was out and about, talking with us about what happened. I had a hugely encouraging phone conversation with Mark, the pastor at the Rock, who seemed to know just what to say.

Sunday evening around 9, just as we were trying to settle in for a routine evening, our doorbell rang. It was Maria, a 10 year old girl from our neighborhood to tell me that she had seen the three boys break into our house on Saturday and she asked them what they were doing, but they yelled at her, so she was too scared to do anything about it. The whole time we were talking, she was nervously looking over her shoulder down the block. Eventually, she told me that the kids with the oversized white t-shirts and black do-rags were playing basketball down the street. We thanked her, and called 911 again. They said they’d send out a squad car, and we figured that was it.

20 minutes later, the doorbell rang again, and this time it was a police officer. He told me that he had ID’d the three kids, but there wasn’t a ton to hold them on (Maria apparently clammed up in front of the police). He told me they’d get taken in for questioning that night, and that I should call the precinct every day to keep bugging them about my case – the squeaky wheel gets the grease. This didn’t seem very encouraging, so I asked him about the car. He said he’d read a report earlier in the evening that it had been recovered after a brief chase, but that the kids inside scattered. He didn’t know if it was trashed or not, but he didn’t seem particularly hopeful.

I went inside and hugged Bridgette, thankful that at least we were each safe and with one another. Also our cats had not been mutilated beyond recognition.

We’re each feeling a million things right now, and I think it will be a long while before we feel really comfortable about the situation. We know that God allowed this to happen, and we know that ultimately, a ton of people (including Mark) are going through much worse than the expenses and emotional craziness we went through over the last 48 hours. We know we’ll be okay, and that God is good.

Let’s just hope that those three punks in the oversized white t-shirts and black do-rags who like to play basketball at 5315 Fremont Avenue see justice. Maybe I’ve been reading Kevin’s blog too much, but I’m not very optimistic.

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27 Responses to Break-In

  1. Adam says:

    Damn. Sorry to hear that, man. I will come over there with my canoe and kick their asses.

  2. peter says:

    You should cripple them with an oar.

  3. scott says:

    dude, sorry to hear that. if i lived closer, i’d come over for some crippling with oars. hope the cops get their act together and beat confessions out of those punks!

  4. Thom says:

    That really sucks. Sorry I couldn’t hang out on Saturday. Breakins are frightening time.

    But I must note…this post was not remotely funny, Peter. I always expect you to find the grand humor in life’s tragedies. Instead, I found myself concerned and worried about friends.

  5. _steve says:

    Damn, I’m sorry man. If I were there, I’d TOTALLY be down on kicking the asses of those little bitches.

  6. Guy Incognito says:

    I think an appropriate response would be to rig all your doors with shotguns operated by strings tied to the door knobs and strung thru an elaborate system of pulleys.
    At least, that’s what I’d do.

  7. R.T. Rybak says:

    Never fear. In response to your incident, I have hired 38 lesbians to administrative posts within the city. Our community gardens will be better than ever!

  8. Tami says:

    I had to call Bridgette to see if your car was really stolen since it hadn’t been when I last talked to her. Nothing like kicking you when you’re down. I glared at every kid I drove by on the north side yesterday. I think nearly all of them were wearing over-sized white t-shirts and black do-rags. Must be the “in” thing.

  9. Ted says:

    The whole situation stinks. I am really sorry Peter. Please let Gina and I know if there is anything we can do. I have a sword. I don’t know if that helps but I thought you should know.

  10. kevin s. says:

    I think Ted should go to your house and stand outside shirtless with his sword.

  11. My trusty .45ACP and I can be there in 19 hours. Just say the word [and pay for my gas to drive to the Twin Cities].

  12. Roger says:

    I hear vigilante justice is also “in” right now.

  13. Vigilante justice is always “in”.

  14. Ted says:

    I recommend that we raise a militia to deal with the growing crime in the city. Charles, will you lead us?

  15. Sarah says:

    Huuray Militia. I’d like to do the thing guy incognito suggests with my car. it’s been broken into 4 times in the last 2 years….the last time right in my driveway while I was home.

    Sorry to hear the news Peter.

    I think most kids that wear do rags need a good oar slapping anyway.

  16. Ed says:

    I haven’t read this blog in forever, so what an unfortunate time to start reading it again! I am so so so sorry. That totally sucks. I live in the Frogtown neighborhood in St. Paul, and it seems like crime in this city is starting to get out of control. Just a few weeks ago, I bought a couple new bikes for me and my wife and they were stolen out of my garage within a week. I saw them ride off with them. I can’t drive by a teenage kid (with a big white t-shirt) on a bike without checking if it’s mine. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have my house broken into. A friend of mine came home to his broken-in house and found one of his butcher knives sitting on his bedroom dresser upstairs. It’s a good thing he wasn’t home.

  17. Ted says:

    Maybe you should just name you house Chuck Norris. Then nobody would bother it again. Although you would be required to get it a cowboy hat and some boots.

  18. tim hopps says:

    this sucks. a couple weeks ago the house next door to mine was broken into as well, and she was 99% sure she knew who did it… some punks who live in the rental house down the alley (the only things missing were video games). she saw them in the alley behind her house shooting baskets when she took her dog for a walk. 20 minutes later she comes back, the back gate is open, the kids are nowhere in sight, and her daughter’s video games are all gone. and the cops didn’t do a damn thing about it… no “evidence” that it was those kids. (aren’t the police the ones who are supposed to LOOK for evidence?) they wouldn’t even talk to them. i’m just waiting for my turn, which is a shitty way to live.

  19. tim hopps says:

    and i hope your cats got a good scolding for being home and not doing anything.

  20. Thom says:

    Ted…technically, the cowboy hat and boots would have to be worn by the house. Luckily, I happen to have a pair of giant cowboy boots and a giant cowboy hat.

  21. Thom says:

    Sarah….a friend of mine had a brother who got tired of getting his car stereo stolen. So he lined the stereo with an unseen accessory. When someone next tried to steal his car stereo, they instead sliced up their fingers on razor blades. The blood stains were fair compensation for getting to keep the stereo…

  22. scott says:

    wow, that’s like a Chuck Norris edition stereo.

    “what’s that red stuff?”
    “oh, just the blood of the person who tried to steal it”
    (wide eyed look)
    “yeah, you heard me”

  23. Guy Incognito says:

    Plus, then you’ve got DNA evidence. ;)

  24. kevin s. says:

    Tom,

    Wanna go gun shopping?

  25. Guy Incognito says:

    I do.
    Can I borrow some money? My wallet’s in the car.

  26. peter says:

    I will never, ever live that stupid comment down.

  27. Guy Incognito says:

    It would be different if you hadn’t pulled the same trick twice in a week.

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