MAE JULIAN
A Burglary or a Robbery?
“I’ve been robbed,” I told the dispatcher.
“Was it a burglary or a robbery?” calmly asked the woman.
“Uh…what’s the difference?”
It wasn’t my intention to call this calamity in to wrestle with semantics.
“Well,” she said coolly, “Were you there when it happened?”
“No. If I had been home, it wouldn’t have happened. I would have been calling in a shooting!”
“Well, let’s see, now. When did it happen?”
“It happened when I was gone. How do I know when it happened? I’ve got valuable stuff missing.”
So, she sighed, and said that she would send a policeman over. I was surprised when he got here about two hours later. The burglary was confusing to begin with, and he had trouble keeping his wits about him because his wife called on his cell phone whilst he was interviewing us. He began a fierce argument with her and told her she knew better than to call him while he was on an investigation. To tell you the truth, Barney Fife had nothing on this guy.
My grandson was here, and he then began talking to him. Justin told him whom he suspected (some rotten kid who had been part of past burglaries). Juss answered all his questions but the cop treated him like he was a criminal. It made me mad. Juss may not keep his room clean, but he does not steal. I told the cop that neither Juss or any of my grandchildren or children even knew of the possession of a wedding set that was in a locked lock box in the bottom of our closet. In fact, after he left, I discovered exactly how it could be seen. This was because the crook had used our bathroom leading off our bedroom and the commode was full of exactly what you might think. From that vantage point the lockbox is visible. I had an appraisal from 1985 that was in the lockbox which described the rings in minute detail. The cop was so agitated that he had to copy the sheet, muttering and carrying on that “no one in his right mind would be able to decipher all that foreign stuff”. My husband offered to copy it and give him a copy, which he did. He left in a huff after the finger printer came and fingerprinted everything including doorknobs and the lockbox. The cop told us we should never have touched anything. He was obnoxious. Then he took it upon himself to go through the lockbox and put his prints on everything. My eyeballs were rolled up, and I was lamenting the theft which was no small matter. When he left, he said a detective would be following up. I called a few days later and the detective said that Barney Fife had no reason to promise anything, that he was busy and would get to it when he could. He also said Barney had named Justin the suspect!
It has become rather obvious that the antique platinum and diamond ring set is of no interest to them. Nor are the kid’s piggy banks or anything else. So I went to an appraiser to get an updated appraisal and I guess the next step is the insurance company. Things are not like CSI. Indifference and ineptitude seem to be the way of things now. I wish I were back in Waynedale. This problem would have been solved. We have the names of the suspected perps, but ole Barney told us that they can’t question kids that are 15 or 16. How did things get in this state of affairs?
I guess I will set upon whatever pawn shops I can find in the area. I’ve never been in a pawn shop, and the woman who I took the appraisal to said not to bother. “They will just lie to you,” she said.
What is this world coming to?
All I know is that we are getting new deadbolts and considering an alarm system.
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