I am outraged! I am literally angry with rage!
For starters, burglars and thieves are disgustingly cowardly. No, my xbox is not worth a human life... normally. But I wouldn't snatch an intruder's life for the xbox, I would do it to teach him a lesson that messing with other people lives is wrong. Okay, so I wouldn't teach HIM a lesson, but it would definitely send a message to his friends, family, and "co-workers".
But what REALLY fills my rage meter is johnsmith1's comments. YES, the thief and the stolen goods owner--and they may be the same person--and all their friends, family, and co-workers know where the article author lives. They know what else he's got in the apartment. They definitively know about the long showers. And they know that they can come back, steal EVERYTHING, and get away with it. The police apparently won't even look for them.
Even WORSE, they know how the author messed with them, with their songs, pictures, etc. Is there a late-night beat-down in the author's future? Will the author be taking precautions? Will they be enough, or will he have to move to be somewhat safe again?
HE was robbed. He was ignored and patronized. He is in more danger than before. He was the victim and is still being victimized, while degenerate people play his Wii, discuss revenge, and laugh at him and the impotency of the system.
I am seeing red.
There is one thought that makes me strangely calm. The author--and hopefully some other helpful people in his area--seem to be far more intelligent than the perpetrators. And they know where the perps live. They know their schedule somewhat. They know first-hand the weak points and loopholes of the system, as well as the abilities and motivation level of the local police.
The opportunity to wreck havok, to descend upon these perps' lives and show them the true meaning of being a victim, to make them feel--truly feel--what their actions do to people is one that should not be passed. Evil wins when good does nothing.
Anyway, I really hope the author is taking precautions. That, and I hope he gets his other stuff back.
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How I Defeated Adoraburglar
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But for too long the burglar was shy about using my laptop. He'd pop online here and there for a few minutes at most, then disappear. But after a while, he became emboldened, and so did I. He put photos of himself on the computer, and I downloaded them. He's a young guy, and handsome, too, so much so that I took to referring to him as the Adoraburglar. He uploaded his music onto it and I'd delete it off. It wasn't right. If anyone should be putzing around in front of that computer, it should be me. On April Fools' Day, I altered the photo of him that he'd set as his wallpaper to make it look like he had leprosy. If juvenile pranks were as good as my revenge was going to get, I was content to take that.
Finally, he gave me the opening I needed. The computer was signed on and he wasn't in front of it. I knew this because I took a chance and activated the built-in Webcam. I had been avoiding going this route because if I miscalculated, and he was in front of the screen, he'd be tipped off to my presence and could uninstall the program, or toss the laptop into a pond, for that matter. But after a month of being without it, I had come to peace with the idea that I might never get my stuff back, so I didn't have anything more to lose.
The Webcam started up, and I was looking inside a bedroom with rust-colored walls. The computer was facing the door, and from what I could tell, someone was lying in bed. People casually streamed in and out of the room. This act of voyeurism had a practical application. Once I knew no one was watching the screen, I could install programs on the computer that would help me find it. But I'd be lying if I said violating his privacy the way mine was violated didn't amuse me a little. I installed a keylogger, along with LoJack for Laptops. I watched nervously as the installation bars filled, hoping no one would come back to the screen and see what I was doing. It was like those scenes in movies where someone is hurriedly downloading a vital file from someone else's computer. For that moment, I was Sandra Bullock in "The Net."
A little over a week later, I had gathered enough information for the police to secure a search warrant, go to his house and retrieve my computer. The culprit wasn't home at the time. After bringing him in for questioning, the detective determined that they couldn't make a solid enough case. No one will be arrested, and I won't get any of my other items that were recovered, but getting the laptop provided some comfort, if perhaps of the cold variety. Truth be told, it was a little anticlimactic when the authorities returned my stolen computer. Having the laptop back wasn't as much fun as trying to get the laptop back, especially since the thief had deleted all my files.
Later, I got a card in the mail. It was signed by a bunch of my friends from work who had pitched in to get me a gift card from the Apple Store so I could replace my stolen iPod. It's honestly the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. It occurred to me that I'd dwelled so much on material things that couldn't be replaced, I hadn't thought much about the things that couldn't be stolen, like good friends. Now, I take my new iPod to the bathroom and play it when I'm in the shower, where my musical performances have resumed (I'm on a big Roxy Music kick these days). My cyberdetective agency is closed for now, but would-be thieves should know: sometimes the victim is watching. When you least expect it.
© 2009
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