Carly woke up yesterday morning and went through her usual routine. She fed the baby and gave her a bath; she even managed to wash a few loads of laundry before she brought the baby to my house to spend the day so she could go to work. The baby and I had a good day. We played and went to town to run some errands, but we made it back in plenty of time for Carly to come pick her up. When Carly got here, she had her two boys with her, and they lingered a little while before they headed out the door. Her oldest son was selling magazines for school and was a little shy about hitting Dennis up for a subscription, but we got the paperwork filled out and the car seat reinstalled in Carly’s car, and they headed off toward home.
Carly grew up in the middle of town. She was always surrounded by people, so when she and Shane built their dream house, they chose an out-of-the-way spot about 10 minutes north of town. She loves her country home with its long winding driveway, but when she pulled up at the mailbox last night, she noticed something strange. The lights in the garage were visible from the road, and a white truck sat in the driveway. Carly pulled into a neighbor’s driveway and waited. A few minutes later, the truck pulled out of her driveway with the boys’ dirt bikes piled in the back. At this point, Carly did what any sensible person would do. She called the police.
While she was on the phone with the police, she decided to follow the truck. She couldn’t write down the tag number because the tag was covered up, so she took off down the road after the thieves. It didn’t take long for the people in the truck to notice they were being followed, and Carly lost them, but she didn’t want to go back to her house alone, so she called us. While we were on the phone, she pulled up in her driveway and panicked when she realized the back door was standing wide open.
We promptly turned off the oven and left our dinner behind to jump in the truck and head north to Carly’s house. When we got there, a state trooper was walking through the house with his gun drawn. Carly sobbed on my shoulder while Dennis went inside and her children waited in the car. When Carly finally entered the house, a profound sense of devastation and violation swept over her. Her wedding ring was gone, as was most of her jewelry. The laptop, along with all of their banking information and pictures from the baby’s first year of life, was taken. Money, signed baseballs, and a safe full of baseball cards disappeared.
Stuff can be replaced, but the violation devastates and debilitates. Carly’s afraid to be alone in the house they custom-built. She and Shane hardly slept, and in the morning, Shane admitted that he dreamed of people hiding in the attic, waiting until the house grew quiet to sneak out of the house. People entered their house, uninvited, and walked around inside. They rifled through draws and walked past the bed that Shane and Carly attempted to sleep in. Those feelings of violation don’t just disappear. They stay. When morning came and the sun peeked through the windows, evidence of the night’s trauma abounded. A great grandmother’s jewelry box sat broken on the dresser. Muddy footprints traipsed through the house.
Fifteen minutes south, we hardly slept. Unanswered questions raced through our heads. What if Alec hadn’t stopped to sell us magazines? What if they hadn’t grabbed dinner at Sonic before heading home? What if Carly didn’t notice the garage lights and pulled into the driveway, interrupting them? What if they came back? What if they don’t get caught? Could it happen to us? What if it happens to us?
As usual, Dennis woke up before dawn, but after he left I couldn’t go back to sleep. The house was dark. I was alone. I kept wondering how I would recover if it happened here. Would I ever feel safe in this house again? Would we have to move? Would the sense of violation ever fade, or would it linger, plaguing me for the rest of my life?
This is not the first time I’ve rushed to a friend’s house after a robbery. The same sense of helplessness and defenselessness gripped me then. It’s awful. We live in a quaint little small town. Everyone knows everyone, and there are no secrets here. It’s not unusual for people to leave their doors unlocked. It’s not unheard of for people to leave their cars unlocked with the keys inside. I’ve always felt safe and secure here. That sense of safety and security was shaken last night. I wonder if it will ever be the same again.
