Post | 02/06/2008 6:10 am
I Was Robbed!

Note: This post was originally published on wOw on Jan. 30, 2008.
Last Friday a man broke into my bedroom, rifled through my drawers, picked through my jewelry, grabbed my brand new Mac book and Palm Pilot, and walked away. The police tell me he’s a seasoned cat burglar. “We know him,” said Detective Kenney. "He’s a serial. This is his pattern, his MO."
The MO: He stakes out buildings with scaffolding, like mine. Pretends he’s part of the construction crew by donning a hard hat and slipping in – in daylight - when the workers go on a break. The cops know his signature.
The roof of my building is under repair, like so many others in New York City. The Cat easily persuaded the elevator man that he was one of the workers. So he got up to the roof, then into our top floor apartment, where he clearly knew real jewelry from costume. He took only the good stuff.
The most frightening of it all is that our housekeeper was in the apartment at the time. She realized something was wrong when she couldn’t open the bedroom door. He had jammed a chair up against it. The police say she interrupted the crime; he heard her, and fled.
The only good thing from this was how much the police impressed me. I’ve been robbed before in another major city and the cops basically said they had no hope of solving the case, and implied there would be little effort. The NYPD, at least in our precinct, tell you their plan to solve the case, and present you with statistics to back it up.
They told us that several people in the building saw the Cat, including the elevator man. They are helping the NYPD come up with a sketch. They also have the hard hat he wore, so they’re hoping they can get some DNA. The detective in charge of our case says he’s confident they’ll get him. “Once we have a description of these guys with a pattern like this, we catch ‘em 80% of the time.” We all know how important confidence is.
“And my jewelry?” I asked. My father’s gold cufflinks, the turquoise ring my mother gave me, the watch, the bracelet? They’re just “things,” I know. But things that mean something.
“Well,” he said, shaking his head. “Chances are less than 25% we’ll recover your goods.”
I live in a well-run building, with good security. Our super says it’s the first robbery in 28 years. You want to blame someone, but I’m not sure who. You feel violated, stripped. And you feel silly grieving over a piece of jewelry. But if you’ve ever been burgled, you know how I feel.
What I am thankful for is that our housekeeper wasn’t harmed and that the NYPD expects to win rather than lose.
| ◄ | This is What 85 Looks Like | My First WANTED Poster: An Update on "I Was Robbed!" | ► |


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5 Reader Comments (so far…)
Sorry, I can’t help myself - you were burglarized, not robbed. And to address the topic… I also live in NYC, West Village (nice neighborhood, but old brownstone walk-up) and my apartment has been burglarized twice. I did not get the attention you describe from the NYPD. They gave me the “We’ll never find him, why bother” routine, followed by “If you don’t want to be burglarized, move out of the city.” I think you got good service because you’re famous. The NYPD isn’t that nice or hardworking for everyone.
My burglary happened in small town Connecticut many years ago, but I still remember grieving over my high school class ring. It wasn’t an expensive piece, but how many class rings does a girl get? And mine was gone. Thank God I had not taken possession of my heirlooms yet.
I never even reported the burglary to my apartment. Honestly I don’t think the police would care, and, I’ve never had an encounter with them to make this bad statement about cops. It was my first pair of expensive earrings that I bought myself. Thank goodness not real jewelry, but I’ve never seen another pair like them. After that, in any apartment I put my own inside lock on, even though it’s against most apartment buildings policy. I tell the building they cannot enter my apartment for any reason without my notification. I do try to live in “nice” buildings and I pay out the nose, highway robbery rent. But I’m scared of crime and trying to reduce the chances, only to see, it happens any and everywhere. Since that robbery I am so painfully aware of new jewelry and it being stolen. I try to hide it in spots that aren’t obvious. Remember women, inside jobs are notorious—maintenance has a copy of your key, learns when you come and go, can walk in and out at ease. They also deny accepting packages, so they can steal your mail (in my building a man’s highly expensive computer was intercepted by maintenance), who denied accepting it. The landlord did nothing, cause underpaying lazies/thieves saves him money. Women, be careful. I had no idea and learned hard lessons but, ok, I was lucky, it was one time, one piece of good jewelry, and I was physically unharmed. Also, setting up secret cameras, some buildings allow you to install your own alarms, try all kinds of tricks and contraptions to spare your apartment from being robbed. Check out who is your maintenance before signing a lease, learn who your neighbors are, avoid college areas, find out if a lease can be broken without being penalized (for special circumstances/get it in writing and certify the mail/letter), become a pro at moving and finding good buildings. It takes time, but I learn quick and I pay attention to the smallest details and I don’t make assumptions based on “it looks ok.” Be smart, aware, and look beyond what you see.
To this day I do not know how I kept possession of myself during a terrifying night in the Caribbean island of Bequia, in the Grenadines.
It was a few months after losing my twin sister, and I wanted to go, alone, to the islands, so redolent of our childhood, to remember those kind days. One of my brothers had said I could stay at his house, on a bluff overlooking the sea, as long as I liked. That would turn out to be exactly two days. On the evening of my second night, unable to sleep, I sat under a light on the terrace and read. Suddenly a man in a black ski mask and gloves and wielding a knife, appeared on the far side of the terrace. He moved toward me. His eyes were like an animal’s in the forest; dark, feral, cunning blank.
Crouching and at the edge of tears, I told him to take whatever was in the house and, then, “I’m leaving tomorrow. This never happened.”
“Where’s the money,” he demanded. I pointed to the room where I kept some cash, two or three hundred dollars, and he went inside and grabbed it. He left, his walk, oddly, like a fast skipping.
It was over in five minutes. But it wasn’t. I barricaded myself in the house and sat down at the breakfast table with a carving knife on the seat next to me. “Will anyone be joining you for breakfast?” I imagined a waiter asking and my saying, “Yes, my bodyguard, the carving knife.” As it had rained hard earlier in the evening, the phones were down. I sat up all night looking at my watch and trying to make its hands move faster for dawn to arrive so I could go to the police and—not soon enough—home. Around four in the morning I got up and opened the wood louvers of a window. “Help, help, ” I screamed. The only response: dogs barking primitively. With each hour I became more terrified that he might return.
When dawn finally arrived in a slice of pale sunlight under the terrace door, I walked to the road and flagged down a car driven by a woman with a child in the front seat. She gave me a ride to the police station.
Once there, I had to remind the police chief that I was the victim, not the perpetrator. He asked me if I would stay a few days to identify the robber. “In a ski mask?” I was incredulous. “No, I’m leaving.” Besides, I am a guilt-ridden New York Jew: what if I indentified the wrong guy? The people on these islands get enough injustice.
Two hours later, with my bags packed and the house closed up, I boarded the ferry. It sounded the foghorn, a wail, like mine. I stood on the stern of the boat and glared at the island I was leaving behind. Suddenly, I started to cry, so hard that my body was shaking. “How could you!” I bellowed to no one in particular.
While I never think of myself as a victim, I find that I am no longer the intrepid solo traveler.
Even a simple web cam can do a good job on recording a burglar, not to mention more expensive security systems. I use web cab that can detect motion. It’s amazing how burglars strike whenever they see an opportunity. Now, when the vacation time is coming I took an extra step to make my home, and not only car secure. I have purchased a CD with burglar deterrent sounds, which I play every day in my apartment when I leave it for work. And I will play it non stop when I go on vacation. The sound quality is OK, nothing spectacular, but since you are listening to it through the closed door, it works great. Web site is: www.DeterrentSounds.com. Another good site is www.audioguard.com.