Credit Where Credit is Due
Latka Gravas: [reviews the damage to Cab 804] I Quit.
—Taxi, "Memories of Cab 804, Part II" (5/29/79)
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A couple of days ago I got an email from Wayne Sherman. He'd heard from someone up the street from my Morrell Park house who thought they saw "druggies" around the property. I figured they might have seen the people who are cleaning up the damage to the house and told him so, thanking him for the note.
Tonight, shortly after I got home, I got a call from the guy who's working on the house. He said that clearly someone's been in the house and that he hadn't been there for about a week. So GF and I got into the car and trekked down to see what was going on.
As soon as we got through the door we called 911. Sure enough, someone had gotten in and had themselves a little party or two. New damage to the walls, evidence of drug use (crack pipes AND a syringe, along with bloody Kleenex), graffiti spray-painted on a few walls, a broken basement window.
So before I go on with this tale, let me offer public thanks to my neighbors who kept their eyes open (I don't know if I can name them) and whose instincts turned out to be correct; and to Wayne, who knew how to get in touch with me and took that time. I usually give him a lot of crap in this space but he came through for me on this one.
Anyway: the police came, then a supervisor came. They figured out that whoever it was had gotten in through an unlocked second-floor window after cutting the screen, and they sent for the Crime Lab Unit. This was an official Breaking and Entering thing, now, and I've got a police report number and everything.
The Crime Lab Unit took a bunch of photos, dusted many surfaces for prints, took several samples (including a few specifically for DNA), and so on. It was very C.S.I., except for the part where she said, "Don't expect them to call you tonight with the results." My repair guy boarded the window involved, we re-secured the place and left.
So now the house is officially in a condition comparable to the day I bought it. Make me an offer; I've had enough.

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