One year ago, the 30th of January was a Saturday. Our oldest son had a basketball game, so Chris and I and the boys loaded up into his truck and started on our way. As we drove past our detached shop building (how we refer to the metal building that serves as a garage, workshop, and multi-purpose space), we noticed our wheelbarrow, lying tipped-over in the grass outside.
The wheelbarrow that is usually stored inside our shop.
We pulled up the driveway, opened the shop door, and peered inside.
We had been robbed.
Of course we did all the usual things: called the police and filed a report, called our insurance company and notified them, and felt infuriated and violated.
The first stage is shock, adrenaline, panic, and betrayal.
After taking a quick visual scan of the inside of the building, we stepped outside and shut the door, as not to disturb anything. We took our oldest to his basketball game, and arranged to meet the police detective at our shop shortly after the game was over.
The second stage is anger and anxiety.
Now, I can’t speak to my husband’s emotions here; this is purely my experience. And as I have recently mentioned, I do not handle unexpected crisis very well. For me, this was a huge deal.
I’m a very optimistic person. I’ve been blessed with a life mostly free of hardship and adversity and as such my coping mechanisms in the face of those two things are somewhat subpar. I attribute basic human goodness to most people and when they defy that – when someone (or several someones, in this case) – breaks my trust in the inherent goodness and kindness of people – it’s devestating.
I know these things happen. I know these people exist. But knowing and experiencing are two entirely different things.
Lots of events happened over the next several months. The county sheriff and a detective came out to investigate, take photographs and fingerprints, and get our statement. They never turned up anything and about six months later they closed our case, unsolved. We learned our insurance broker had done us a major disservice that ended up costing us thousands of dollars in stolen items that we would not receive compensation for from our insurance company. We learned – I guess- to not ever trust someone you’re paying to read the fine print to actually read the fine print or care about your best interests. You just have to look at those limits of liability and figure it out for yourself. (I might still be a little bitter about this part, if you can’t tell).
Our shop was locked, in case you were wondering, but we did not have cameras or a security system. The thieves jimmied open a window and crawled in that way. We learned, from neighbors’ security cameras, that they spent approximately 2 hours, from 2:30am to 4:40am, inside our shop with flashlights, hauling off everything they could get. We’re pretty sure they would have stolen more, but they ran out of room.
They filled our large, wheeled trash cans with power tools and other items and loaded them up. They dumped out a big tote of ratchet straps just so they could have more containers to put our stuff in and haul it off. They used our wheelbarrow to move heavier items to their vehicle. They used our ladder to take the TVs off the wall mounts and run away with them. They loaded up the kids’ dirt bike and 4-wheeler. They took tools and equipment that my husband has spent decades slowly building up for his projects. I’m sure that years from now we’ll still be discovering things that are missing.
We know they had accomplices. We’re pretty sure they cased the place ahead of time; its unclear whether there was one or two vehicles parked at our shop during the time of the theft. We do know there was a lookout, because we have security footage from a neighbor’s camera showing their truck – filled with our stuff and the boys’ 4-wheeler in the back – drive out of our cul-de-sac and flash its headlights at the lookout.
It took me a long time to pull out of that second stage of emotions. I’m no longer angry, and I’ve restored some of my faith in humanity, but I am still anxious. I still have nightmares, at least once a month, that we are being robbed again.
But it’s not all bad. Because here’s the thing: it’s just stuff.
At the time of the robbery, our little family was at home, asleep in our beds, completely unaware of what was happening 300 feet away. There is a part of us – and my husband especially – that wishes we had caught them in the act. Been able to see them captured and punished for taking things they haven’t earned.
But the other side of me is grateful that we didn’t. We slept safely in our beds.
Who knows how such a confrontation could have gone. Would they have had weapons? Would they have been high on drugs and made dangerous decisions with those weapons?
Thankfully, the only thing with true sentimental value – Chris’s grandfather’s 1949 Ford – was untouched. The rest – well, it was just stuff. It was a lot of stuff, that cost a lot of money, but all of it replaceable, even if it takes a while to be able to do so.
We now have a professionally installed and monitored alarm system on both our shop and our house. We have security cameras covering every inch of our property, also around both the house and shop. We won’t be caught unawares again. We are not so unguarded anymore, in all its best and worst ways.
It’s just stuff. But that doesn’t mean that people don’t really suck, sometimes.
