Monday, January 23, 2012

The Robbery-

During Winter Break I noticed that my boys would go days without sleep playing video games. It concerned me but I though hell it's winter break I'll let them live have a little fun. As the break neared it's end I decided that we should have a family meeting in which I discussed my concerns about their video gaming and its addictiveness. More importantly how hard it would be to transition back into a regular school schedule. So we agreed (they did not really agree) but it was decided that there would be no games until all chores have been completed, homework had been done and some form of studying occurred. And video  games would be limited to an hour in the evenings. 
So I arrive home, it's a Tuesday. My oldest son is out to eat with a friend and Marlon is sitting at the table studying. I start laundry and dinner. An hour later he asks if he can get on his game system. I check all his requirements to do so and I say sure. He stands there while I continue with my stuff. He finally says "well can I get my game?" "I don't have it" I say. "Well where is it?" he asked.  He says "really mom stop playing. Where are all the games?" I inform him that I have no clue. "They are not in your car or at your job?" he asks with a look of concern.(it is common for me to remove the systems from the home when they have been punished) I again inform him that I do not have them. My son tells me that all the game systems are gone. Maybe David took them I thought. So I called him to ask. He said he did not have them. I call my oldest son and ask if he hid them, he said no. I then realized we had been robbed! I know the correct term is burglarized but robbed sounds more serious so I'ma go with that. 
I call the police. Next I call my son and tell him to come home immediately that we had been robbed. In the next ten minutes David arrives home from work, and my son shows up. The police show up and come in and I start to explain that apparently while we were at work and school our home had been robbed. We had discovered an open window in my daughters room. That must have been the point of entry. There are footprints on the wall and under the window outside. Her curtains are crooked. The neighbor sees the police car in my yard and comes over. I fill her in. We are all gathered around the dining room table in shock while the police ask their questions. They ask times of when  we all left the home and then the time we arrived in the evening. We go around the table and answer. When it is my son's turn he responds that he just got there 2 minutes before the police did. My neighbor looks at him and says "no the first time you came home." 
What? What is she talking about? I look at her puzzled. My son says "this is the first time I have been home." She says "No I saw you. I saw you earlier today around 210pm. You were here." He looks shocked. He repeats "I have not been home since I left for school this morning." She says to him "do not lie. I saw you." My head is spinning. What is she implying? I look at my son searching for an answer. Why would he lie about coming home? She obviously saw him? I  then say "Tell me Michael did you come here?" "No I was with John at the Chinese Buffet!" He says defensively. I have been having issues with Michael in the past 3 months or so. Issues with skipping and lying but nothing like this. Unfortunately, in that moment I did not know what to believe. My neighbor says to him again "I saw you. You left the home and had a bookbag and a duffel bag." He again tells her she is wrong. "I was not here at all!" he yells with tears in his eyes. I cannot tell if the tears are anger or hurt or guilt. She asks me if he has a duffel bag. I say yes and then she says "if I see it, I will know if that is it." I  go get the bag from his closet. It is a black and blue Nike bag. I place it on the table and hold my breath. She looks at it and says "no it's similar but that's not it." I breathe a sigh of relief and then I hear her say "it was like that, but red." My heart drops. My other son has an identical bag in red. I ask him to go check his closet. Sure enough the bag is gone.......
I look at my son and yell at him "Did you have anything to do with this?" "No! I swear!" he yells back. The neighbor is still insisting it was him that she saw. He yells "call the school! l was at school!" I lose it. I begin to cry and yell "tell me the truth! I am gonna find out! I have to know did you do this!" I am searching his eyes for some indication of his innocence or guilt. He yells again "NO! My god I would never!" I want to believe him. He had never done anything like this but there is always the first time. I, sobbing, confused, mad, and hurt ask him again "do you know anything about this?" He yells again. "I had nothing to do with this! Why would I steal my own stuff come on!" He turns to the police and says "fingerprint me. Do whatever. I had nothing to do with this!" I want so badly to believe him but she saw him. And she sees everything. I am spinning. this is too much. Not my son. God please no..............To be continued.


  1. Oh man....I don't like where this is going...

  2. I fear where this is going - I have a bad feeling about this nutso neighbor. don't leave us hangin' Roc.

  3. I have no idea. But I know you're going to tell us. And I'm a little scared to hear......

  4. I can so totally get your hesitation with trusting your son due to the previous blog posts.
    Like the others, I can't wait to hear the rest of the story! I'm betting it's an 'inside' job....but I can be totally wrong......

  5. You need to figure out what you did to make God mad at you and repent as soon as possible.

  6. I don't know how it ends but I do know that eye witnesses make bad witnesses. Perhaps she saw someone with similar features and her mind immediately locked in that it was your son.

    Hopefully, your next post will confirm the mistaken identity.

  7. Mike- I know right. I always say I must have been a horrible person in my past life.

    Everyone else- Its a story that will go on with many twists and turns.