say_sowhat
New member
I got broked into last night. For those of you keeping track at home (and why would you be because I haven't mentioned it before), that makes a total of four: Two successful, two attempted.
First time: Successful. October 2007, a Wednesday while I was at school. Smashed in the back door, got my handgun
sad, my laptop, my PS2, and handfuls of cheap silver jewelry. (Wtf?) Police came, didn't care, didn't take fingerprints, are useless. Perhaps if I was in the least bit forceful and hysterical they might have, but I'm unfortunately polite. Maintenance showed up (eventually, after calling a billion times, because they are useless fucking scumbags) and nailed a clipboard to the door where the broken pane of glass was. Came back the next day to fix it, but rather than putting up a new door he just glued in some new framing. Didn't notice the broken window by the door where they'd tried getting in through that before kicking the door in so didn't bother to fix it. Finding this unsatisfactory, I bought heavy-duty padlocks and padlocked up the fucker, which is obviously against the lease rules but the apartment management has broken them themselves so many times I obviously don't give a fuck.
Second time: Failed. The following Wednesday while I was at school. (Obviously know my schedule or my car.) I knew instantly when I opened the door that something had happened because the cats were all gone (hiding) rather than wandering over to greet us and now I always check for the cats before going all the way in. They'd broken through the clipboard and pried off the wood the maintenance guy had nailed up only to find the padlock by the handle, then managed to pry that one off and kick the door in slightly, but failed to get the door open because of the bottom padlock and the top one. Maintenance came again, finally, and put a "temporary" piece of wood over the door to nail it shut. Rather than, like, a new door.
Cops came, pressed them to take fingerprints this time which they did, couldn't find anything because "the door isn't good for leaving prints." Sigh.
Third time: Failed. More than a year later on the Sunday after Christmas just last year. This attempt did not succeed for any one or a combination of the following reasons:
1. The door was still barricaded.
2. It was the middle of the day.
3. On a Sunday.
4. We were fucking HOME. WITH MY CAR PARKED OUT FRONT. :tard:
We (boyfriend and I) were upstairs at 2pm on this sunny Sunday afternoon when we heard a crash downstairs in the kitchen where the back break-in door is. Having four cats, I thought it could be one of them but it sounded more sinister. We run down to see this fucking chud's big arm sticking through the hole where the window and then the clipboard had once been, reaching around to try to unlock the door. (Which needs a key even from the inside.) Neil grabs one of my wooden swords and chucks it at the arm. It doesn't hit but hits the wall next to it, the arm retreats and the guy runs off. Of course if I still had my gun, this story would have a much more satisfying ending - with brains splattered all over the place. (Big long story about why I couldn't replace the gun since then, but in a nutshell they mixed me up with someone else and denied me a permit and additionally gave me that person's restraining order which is now on my record until I take a nearly 700-mile trip to where I used to live and get proof it's not me. Even though I didn't live there anymore, I lived here, when the crime was committed. Cop fucking assholes.) He wanted to stab the guy's hand/arm but we weren't sure if it was the guy who got our gun last time and didn't want him killing us with our own gun. Although it seems maybe unlikely since these people didn't know my schedule or my car or the fact that I was HOME.
So I'm putting on my clothes (because I don't dress if I don't have to) to go out to a phone and call the police, and I'm doing it in the kitchen because these people are stupid and might walk by again, and what do they do? They walk fucking by. This black guy in a white shirt comes lumbering up, peering in, but the blinds are still down so I can sort of see him while he can't see me. And I think, "No, surely they're not THAT stupid. Maybe this is a different guy who just heard the ruckus." But they are. He wanders off and another black guy comes over, this one in a black jacket, peering in. (I think it was black jacket who had his arm in.) He's all hunching over, trying to see in, probably thinking that maybe something just fell down and no, no one's home, why would they be? It's only two in the afternoon on a Sunday and their car's out front. Then he must've seen my silhouette because he made an exclamation and they ran off.
What do they even think we HAVE? Nazi gold? Is it because we're the only white people in a poor neighborhood? Wouldn't we not be if we had more money??
Called the cops who came and got descriptions, didn't get the fingerprints off the barricade (which is a different material than the non-fingerprintable door) that he had his bare hands all over, didn't even do a brief drive-through of the neighborhood or neighboring scum businesses even though it was just a few minutes ago, and said "We'll catch the guys." What? How's that? With wishes? You've got no fingerprints, vague descriptions, and can't catch them with our stuff in their possession because they didn't get in. What. The. Fuck.
In between time: The apartment flooded and maintenance let it because they're shit-eating asswipes and didn't bother to come for a full 24 hours. Lots of stuff ruined, blah de blah, I'd obviously been looking for new apartments but put my looking into overdrive with this new development. I found a place that's incredibly nice, like really really really nice, and is running a desperate, depression-era special so that it actually costs LESS than the shit-hole I'm living in now. Currently trying to get in there, long story, dicking around, blah blah, should have an answer tomorrow maybe.
Fourth time: Successful. Last night, a Sunday again, only this time we were actually gone. We came home and the cats seemed fine and Neil went into the kitchen to make his tea (fucking English people and their tea) and didn't notice anything amiss with the back door but then I said, "Uhh... why's Logan out?" Logan's the one cat the other three beat up on, so now she stays up in the bedroom behind a closed door. There's no reason she should be out. So Neil goes and glances upstairs, sees the open bedroom door and another door open to this storage room we never go in, and tells me to get out of the apartment because they could still be up there. He checks the back door and sees now the clipboard has been wrenched off (it had been hidden behind the blinds) but that the door's still barricaded, then we leave to call the cops.
We tell them that the robbery is possibly still in progress, that the thugs could still be in the apartment, that we cannot go back alone and will be waiting in our car. However, since we are polite and calm, we sound unterrified, so they take thirty minutes to show up. (Seriously, I'm just going to start screaming and acting like an asshole because apparently that's the only way to get anything done.) I didn't think they were still in the place, on account of the cats being out so it had probably been several hours to give them a chance to not be scared and come out, but of course I'm freaked out and paranoid. I figure my computer's gone, which is the only thing I care about (apart from the cats, and the ferret was fine), which has all my stories and some other things I can't replace, but I decide not to panic and cry until I knew for sure.
The cops show and go in with guns drawn. They check the bedroom but not the closet, don't look in the bathroom, don't check the spare room, leave the apartment to stand outside and talk about it. Neil goes upstairs and says my computer's gone, I cried like a little bitch and I'm not ashamed. Then he says, "Oh wait it's not gone! They tried to take it, got the monitor, but the computer's still there." I cannot stress enough: Phew. I would have seriously considered suicide. (Though I'd need a gun for that and being denied.) They furthermore got more of my cheap silver jewelry (wtf?) and, strangely, a small, cheap, wooden jewelry box. Are they just stealing stuff for their girlfriends now? They also took my wireless keyboard and mouse AND the receiver for it, which means they had to know what it was and unplug it, which means... why don't they know that that sort of thing is completely and utterly worthless??
He finds that the upstairs bathroom window is all smashed and that's how they'd gotten in. They'd climbed this back shed-thingie and came through that way when they found they couldn't get in through the back door. I think the thugs came in the top intending to get out the back door and when the found the back door so impenetrably unable-to-get-out-of, just took the monitor and some small shit and went back out the bathroom window. Thus they didn't want to risk grabbing my computer, thank Jebus. Strange that they have the complete crazy willingness to go at people in the middle of the day, and climb in through people's second-story windows but don't have the crazy willingness to go right out the front door. I mean it's a shitty neighborhood and no one would notice, and whoever would notice wouldn't care because it's probably the neighbors anyway.
So Neil goes down to tell the cops about how they got in, who are surprised (although why I don't know, since they didn't bother to do any detective work at all) and go around back to look up at the window. They don't take any fingerprints (of course), don't check the area, don't ask neighbors (whatever happened to being a beat cop and knowing people and asking around?) and don't even bother to enter the apartment a second time to do a more thorough search. What they DO do, though, is be major pricks and tell us that if we don't clean up the apartment, the management will probably not give us our security deposit back. Fucking cocksuckers. Luckily they shut the fuck up after I told them that the mess is a result of the flooding that management didn't bother to come fix with any promptness and, as a result, ruined all my shit. Oh and also fuck you, how about you care about what matters you shit-eating scum?
Neil asks them about fingerprints, which they don't want to bother with. "Maybe if there was some blood," they say, and then fuck off to go stand outside a grocery store somewhere providing a police presence. Oh but hey, they did get dispatch to call the apartment people to send out maintenance. Who never came. (Which I must say I find surprising.)
We go back inside to take stock of things and figure out how to rig something to barricade the window only to find blood on the blinds. Then I find blood in the bedroom on the door, blood all over the closet door, blood on my vibrator (which was on my desk by stuff they rifled through, haha), and blood downstairs on a plastic storage thingie. Of course the cops would have seen this, had they bothered to even glance or in any way do their jobs.
We go out AGAIN to call them back and they came back and took their DNA evidence, which they claim will pull up a match if the guy's ever been arrested before. Seems pretty likely that he has, but unlikely they'll actually bother to run it through. I suspect they'll store it away or send it to the lab for storing away until something else actually happens. Like one of us gets brutally killed.
And that's why I need a bear trap. For the bathtub. In case they come in again (since they're so persistently, crazily sure that we've got oodles of cash hidden somewhere and since it makes SO much sense for the poor to rob the poor in a poor neighborhood), they'll get a horrible, disfiguring surprise.
That monitor cost $200 or so. That jewelry was worthless but sentimental. That jewelry box was the first and only birthday present my brother ever got me, because he's a self-centered asshat. :sad:
First time: Successful. October 2007, a Wednesday while I was at school. Smashed in the back door, got my handgun
sad, my laptop, my PS2, and handfuls of cheap silver jewelry. (Wtf?) Police came, didn't care, didn't take fingerprints, are useless. Perhaps if I was in the least bit forceful and hysterical they might have, but I'm unfortunately polite. Maintenance showed up (eventually, after calling a billion times, because they are useless fucking scumbags) and nailed a clipboard to the door where the broken pane of glass was. Came back the next day to fix it, but rather than putting up a new door he just glued in some new framing. Didn't notice the broken window by the door where they'd tried getting in through that before kicking the door in so didn't bother to fix it. Finding this unsatisfactory, I bought heavy-duty padlocks and padlocked up the fucker, which is obviously against the lease rules but the apartment management has broken them themselves so many times I obviously don't give a fuck.Second time: Failed. The following Wednesday while I was at school. (Obviously know my schedule or my car.) I knew instantly when I opened the door that something had happened because the cats were all gone (hiding) rather than wandering over to greet us and now I always check for the cats before going all the way in. They'd broken through the clipboard and pried off the wood the maintenance guy had nailed up only to find the padlock by the handle, then managed to pry that one off and kick the door in slightly, but failed to get the door open because of the bottom padlock and the top one. Maintenance came again, finally, and put a "temporary" piece of wood over the door to nail it shut. Rather than, like, a new door.
Cops came, pressed them to take fingerprints this time which they did, couldn't find anything because "the door isn't good for leaving prints." Sigh.Third time: Failed. More than a year later on the Sunday after Christmas just last year. This attempt did not succeed for any one or a combination of the following reasons:
1. The door was still barricaded.
2. It was the middle of the day.
3. On a Sunday.
4. We were fucking HOME. WITH MY CAR PARKED OUT FRONT. :tard:
We (boyfriend and I) were upstairs at 2pm on this sunny Sunday afternoon when we heard a crash downstairs in the kitchen where the back break-in door is. Having four cats, I thought it could be one of them but it sounded more sinister. We run down to see this fucking chud's big arm sticking through the hole where the window and then the clipboard had once been, reaching around to try to unlock the door. (Which needs a key even from the inside.) Neil grabs one of my wooden swords and chucks it at the arm. It doesn't hit but hits the wall next to it, the arm retreats and the guy runs off. Of course if I still had my gun, this story would have a much more satisfying ending - with brains splattered all over the place. (Big long story about why I couldn't replace the gun since then, but in a nutshell they mixed me up with someone else and denied me a permit and additionally gave me that person's restraining order which is now on my record until I take a nearly 700-mile trip to where I used to live and get proof it's not me. Even though I didn't live there anymore, I lived here, when the crime was committed. Cop fucking assholes.) He wanted to stab the guy's hand/arm but we weren't sure if it was the guy who got our gun last time and didn't want him killing us with our own gun. Although it seems maybe unlikely since these people didn't know my schedule or my car or the fact that I was HOME.
So I'm putting on my clothes (because I don't dress if I don't have to) to go out to a phone and call the police, and I'm doing it in the kitchen because these people are stupid and might walk by again, and what do they do? They walk fucking by. This black guy in a white shirt comes lumbering up, peering in, but the blinds are still down so I can sort of see him while he can't see me. And I think, "No, surely they're not THAT stupid. Maybe this is a different guy who just heard the ruckus." But they are. He wanders off and another black guy comes over, this one in a black jacket, peering in. (I think it was black jacket who had his arm in.) He's all hunching over, trying to see in, probably thinking that maybe something just fell down and no, no one's home, why would they be? It's only two in the afternoon on a Sunday and their car's out front. Then he must've seen my silhouette because he made an exclamation and they ran off.
What do they even think we HAVE? Nazi gold? Is it because we're the only white people in a poor neighborhood? Wouldn't we not be if we had more money??
Called the cops who came and got descriptions, didn't get the fingerprints off the barricade (which is a different material than the non-fingerprintable door) that he had his bare hands all over, didn't even do a brief drive-through of the neighborhood or neighboring scum businesses even though it was just a few minutes ago, and said "We'll catch the guys." What? How's that? With wishes? You've got no fingerprints, vague descriptions, and can't catch them with our stuff in their possession because they didn't get in. What. The. Fuck.
In between time: The apartment flooded and maintenance let it because they're shit-eating asswipes and didn't bother to come for a full 24 hours. Lots of stuff ruined, blah de blah, I'd obviously been looking for new apartments but put my looking into overdrive with this new development. I found a place that's incredibly nice, like really really really nice, and is running a desperate, depression-era special so that it actually costs LESS than the shit-hole I'm living in now. Currently trying to get in there, long story, dicking around, blah blah, should have an answer tomorrow maybe.
Fourth time: Successful. Last night, a Sunday again, only this time we were actually gone. We came home and the cats seemed fine and Neil went into the kitchen to make his tea (fucking English people and their tea) and didn't notice anything amiss with the back door but then I said, "Uhh... why's Logan out?" Logan's the one cat the other three beat up on, so now she stays up in the bedroom behind a closed door. There's no reason she should be out. So Neil goes and glances upstairs, sees the open bedroom door and another door open to this storage room we never go in, and tells me to get out of the apartment because they could still be up there. He checks the back door and sees now the clipboard has been wrenched off (it had been hidden behind the blinds) but that the door's still barricaded, then we leave to call the cops.
We tell them that the robbery is possibly still in progress, that the thugs could still be in the apartment, that we cannot go back alone and will be waiting in our car. However, since we are polite and calm, we sound unterrified, so they take thirty minutes to show up. (Seriously, I'm just going to start screaming and acting like an asshole because apparently that's the only way to get anything done.) I didn't think they were still in the place, on account of the cats being out so it had probably been several hours to give them a chance to not be scared and come out, but of course I'm freaked out and paranoid. I figure my computer's gone, which is the only thing I care about (apart from the cats, and the ferret was fine), which has all my stories and some other things I can't replace, but I decide not to panic and cry until I knew for sure.
The cops show and go in with guns drawn. They check the bedroom but not the closet, don't look in the bathroom, don't check the spare room, leave the apartment to stand outside and talk about it. Neil goes upstairs and says my computer's gone, I cried like a little bitch and I'm not ashamed. Then he says, "Oh wait it's not gone! They tried to take it, got the monitor, but the computer's still there." I cannot stress enough: Phew. I would have seriously considered suicide. (Though I'd need a gun for that and being denied.) They furthermore got more of my cheap silver jewelry (wtf?) and, strangely, a small, cheap, wooden jewelry box. Are they just stealing stuff for their girlfriends now? They also took my wireless keyboard and mouse AND the receiver for it, which means they had to know what it was and unplug it, which means... why don't they know that that sort of thing is completely and utterly worthless??
He finds that the upstairs bathroom window is all smashed and that's how they'd gotten in. They'd climbed this back shed-thingie and came through that way when they found they couldn't get in through the back door. I think the thugs came in the top intending to get out the back door and when the found the back door so impenetrably unable-to-get-out-of, just took the monitor and some small shit and went back out the bathroom window. Thus they didn't want to risk grabbing my computer, thank Jebus. Strange that they have the complete crazy willingness to go at people in the middle of the day, and climb in through people's second-story windows but don't have the crazy willingness to go right out the front door. I mean it's a shitty neighborhood and no one would notice, and whoever would notice wouldn't care because it's probably the neighbors anyway.
So Neil goes down to tell the cops about how they got in, who are surprised (although why I don't know, since they didn't bother to do any detective work at all) and go around back to look up at the window. They don't take any fingerprints (of course), don't check the area, don't ask neighbors (whatever happened to being a beat cop and knowing people and asking around?) and don't even bother to enter the apartment a second time to do a more thorough search. What they DO do, though, is be major pricks and tell us that if we don't clean up the apartment, the management will probably not give us our security deposit back. Fucking cocksuckers. Luckily they shut the fuck up after I told them that the mess is a result of the flooding that management didn't bother to come fix with any promptness and, as a result, ruined all my shit. Oh and also fuck you, how about you care about what matters you shit-eating scum?
Neil asks them about fingerprints, which they don't want to bother with. "Maybe if there was some blood," they say, and then fuck off to go stand outside a grocery store somewhere providing a police presence. Oh but hey, they did get dispatch to call the apartment people to send out maintenance. Who never came. (Which I must say I find surprising.)
We go back inside to take stock of things and figure out how to rig something to barricade the window only to find blood on the blinds. Then I find blood in the bedroom on the door, blood all over the closet door, blood on my vibrator (which was on my desk by stuff they rifled through, haha), and blood downstairs on a plastic storage thingie. Of course the cops would have seen this, had they bothered to even glance or in any way do their jobs.
We go out AGAIN to call them back and they came back and took their DNA evidence, which they claim will pull up a match if the guy's ever been arrested before. Seems pretty likely that he has, but unlikely they'll actually bother to run it through. I suspect they'll store it away or send it to the lab for storing away until something else actually happens. Like one of us gets brutally killed.
And that's why I need a bear trap. For the bathtub. In case they come in again (since they're so persistently, crazily sure that we've got oodles of cash hidden somewhere and since it makes SO much sense for the poor to rob the poor in a poor neighborhood), they'll get a horrible, disfiguring surprise.
That monitor cost $200 or so. That jewelry was worthless but sentimental. That jewelry box was the first and only birthday present my brother ever got me, because he's a self-centered asshat. :sad:
