A broken metal file, scissors bent to a perpendicular angle and a handle of a screw driver. These were the tools leftover from a job well done. One that left the passenger window shattered and our broke-ass radio disappeared.
It's not like this has not happened to me before. There was a time when I asked if there was a punch card at Safelite Auto Glass in Baltimore. (There wasn't.) But, that was years ago. Radio theft now seems like an old school crime. Dave even joked that we should have left a manual on identity theft so that the would-be "crooks" could have made off with some real money.
I chose to deny the gaping hole and go forth with my errands for the day. When peopled gaped at me in the strip mall, I rolled out my surprise/anger look to act as if I was just discovering it for the first time. Brushed a bit of the broken glass onto the parking lot and carried on my way. It was really only the rain that put a damper in my denial.
But, I could not deny the unsettled feeling of being violated. When you are the victim of a crime, you feel it to your core. You want the police to notice you, to break out the finger printing kit and send the prints off to the lab. You stew. You imagine facing the person in court and ask why. Your cells crave justice.
I wonder if the response to Wall Street would have been different if they would have stolen everyone's radio. Or invaded your home for a television set. Would regulators broke out the fingerprint kits? Would we see more bankers behind bars? Would there be more clear demands for justice?