Holy wow, you guys out there are ready to knock some teeth out. I can't believe the response I've gotten from so many people. Thanks for all of your offers of bikes, tools, fists and revenge.
I'll make a post on the side bar with the bike information. The craigslist.org post I made was pretty cathartic, and got some good responses from other kindhearted folk.
Part 2: The investigation.....
Philly cops. I don't know how I would feel if I had to clock into the mean streets of Philadelphia. Undermanned, disrespected and targeted. Can I really blame them for spending 50% of their time in my house commenting on how great it's going to be when done?
"Wow this is really big!" "It's gonna look great, holy crap that's a big backyard!"
me "Um yeah, I'm real fortunate."
"Sorry we can't really get any fingerprints, since it's so dusty in here."
me "oh, i should have vacuumed."
Actually I was surprised they even sent out a finger printer. I walked the first officer through the house, then the detective showed up, smoking a cigarette, and chewing gum at the same time. Trying to give a full layout of the house and explain why the back window was unlocked, made me feel like I was the guilty party. We went out to talk to my neighbor, who had seen the thieves pull their truck up on the sidewalk. As Leon was describing what he saw I kept looking a the detective, trying to read how he was processing this information. Every time I looked at him, was smoking his cigarette pinched between thumb and index, head cocked back. I imagine a detective to be sponge, someone who is soaking and computing every minutia of detail. I was looking to him for an eureka moment. An instant when it all came together.
As I tried to figure out what he was thinking I kept feeling like we were sitting at a table working on two different puzzles, with the pieces mixed into one pile.
The detective left after telling me the crime labs guy would show up later to take fingerprints. That left one officer sitting in her car on the front sidewalk, dozing off with the heat on.
As I said above, the finger printer walked in with his plastic bag of crime scene investigative tools. We walked through the house, and at every possible place the thieves might left a print he discarded the possibility due to the dust.
After he left all I had was a huge feeling of being alone and vulnerable. It was cold, my house seemed like a big block of swiss cheese, ready to be invaded by any mouse in the neighborhood, and I still had new heaters and new copper all over the place.
Anyone who has ever been robbed must know this feeling of insecurity and paranoia.
More to come...
In the meantime, I take my stuff everywhere. Nothing stays at home. Saturday Charlie and I put in a good 5.5hr cross ride. I've decided to keep the knobbies on for awhile.