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Message: <blockquote data-quote="CarlZog" data-source="post: 1603040" data-attributes="member: 11716">So, yesterday I interrupted a burglary in progress at my upstairs neighbor's apartment.   Today, I'm still analyzing the hell out of how I reacted, so I thought I'd thow it out there. I know there's no point in pondering the could'ves and should'ves. This is more of a vent than anything else. (maybe I need a blog) Anyway, I live in an old-three story Victorian house converted to condos. We live on the first floor, our second floor neighbor is a college professor.  I was home for lunch yesterday afternoon when I heard noises upstairs. My neighbor could have been home -- school's out -- but the noise was loud and jumbled, and she's very quiet. Steps came down the backstairs and I hurried to peer out through the blinds to see who it was. A shifty-looking young guy was standing outside the door on the porch. Again, I thought maybe he was just a workman of some kind. (We'd recently completed some construction on the building, so we've all gotten used to seeing strangers around.) Curious, I looked out front for signs of workmen -- maybe a plumber's truck. Nothing.  Heavy footsteps were still tromping around above me. I called my neighbor's phone. The machine picked up. So I headed up the back stairs. They must've heard me enter the stairwell and started coming down the stairs. We met at the landing. "Can I help you with something?" I asked the first guy. "No, I'm a friend," he muttered, brushing past me without making eye contact. The second guy was right behind him, coming out of the apartment door just as the first guy passed. The second guy had a backpack slung over one shoulder. He muttered, pushing past me. I suddenly woke up to what was going on. "Hey," I shouted, grabbing at the backpack with one hand. He jerked his shoulder, pulling away, and ran down the stairs. "Hey!" I screamed again, still standing on the landing. I froze for a second, not out of any fear (These guys were not particularly physically fearsome.),  but 'cause my mind was reeling over what to do. Do I follow them into the street, or lose sight of them to go back into the apartment and call 911? As the second guy opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, he screamed something. I heard "or I'll kill you".  I didn't catch the first part. But he said it with a little uncertainty, nervousness and an odd, practiced cadence -- like something he'd been told he should say to scare people. I ran down the stairs and followed them into the street -- continuing to scream at them. They were continuing to run down the street. It ocurred to me again I still had no cops. Do I let em go to call, or should I follow? Get attention, I thought. Keep screaming at 'em. Maybe somebody else will call the cops. I suddenly heard myself screaming "Stop, thief!" like a bad movie! I stopped at the front of my house. Somehow feeling like I shouldn't leave the house -- like a guard who couldn't leave his post.  They were two blocks away from my house and me, having trouble running (not very athletic thieves). I had somehow expected them to disappear more quickly. "I could catch them," I thought. "And do what then?" I thought. I spun around looking for a cop, or somebody, or... I didn't know what. I saw my neighbor walking up the street. "Those guys just robbed you!" I screamed. A car coming down the streeet almost hit one of them as they jumped into either side of a U-haul truck parked along the sidewalk and took off. The people in the car stopped in front of our house and dialed 911 on their cell phone. I don't know what I would've, could've or should've done differently. I'm really mad they got away with it -- pilfering my neighbor's jewelry, while I was downstairs pondering whether they were plumbers. Why didn't I just go up right away? I was so stunned that it was happening, my powers of observation went right out the window. Though I'd been face-to-face with them, I had trouble describing them to the cops, and wasn't sure what they were wearing. Why didn't I at least bother to notice that as I watched them stumble down the street? (Today, I've found myself looking at everyone as though I was going to be required to describe them all to the police at the end of the day) My wife was quick to point out that they could've been armed, and I'm lucky I didn't get shot or cut. That thought never crossed my mind. They weren't aggressive or threatening; they were scared. In fact,  they may have been drunk. Which makes it even more frustrating that I couldn't get my neighbor's stuff back. I was so close. If only I'd only thought a moment quicker, grabbed the backpack a little harder, or given him a push down the stairs (they're REALLY steep stairs.). Anyway, I do hope I never have to deal with anything like it again, but a part of me today is itching for a second chance at it -- like replaying a video game level:  "Wait, run it again! I wasn't ready that time." zog</blockquote>

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