If you want to read the newspaper versions of this story,
you can find articles in
The Bolingbrook Sun
and
The Daily Herald.
March 6, 2005
After a relatively uneventful life so far, I finally have a story worth telling. I was on my computer at 3:00 am this morning and heard footsteps upstairs that appeared to start at the front door. I was perplexed because there is very little crime in my neighborhood, but I wasn't expecting anyone. I decided I wanted to see whomever it was, but thought for a few seconds to decide whether to run up or sneak up the stairs. I decided he might hear me either way, so I dashed to the top and started flipping on lights. My visitor had heard the footsteps and made it to the side door by the time I spotted him. When he turned towards me, I saw a complete stranger standing in my kitchen. "Can I help you?" I asked. He had not been able to unlatch the side door quickly enough to escape and now I was between him and the front door. He was visibly terrified and said, "I'm sorry. Please don't beat me up." That was my favorite part of the whole adventure - he thought I could beat him up! I told him I had no such plans.
We talked for 5-10 minutes in my foyer. He mentioned something about needing a phone and that he had been kicked out of his house and dropped off from by his friends who had told him to go steal a plasma TV and that they would pick him up later. He told me he lived in Wheaton, the opposite direction of where he's really from (Bolingbrook), and I explained how he could get to Warrenville Rd. Highway 53, and the Danda Square. I offered to let him use the phone and he declined. I asked if he needed a ride and he said no. He insisted he was not a burglar. "I know you're not a burglar," I replied. "If you were, you would have looked in the windows first and seen that there is nothing to take." My house contains little of value, and the ground floor is especially barren. I wish I could have seen his face when he walked in and looked around. He must have thought, "Rats. Someone beat me to it." He finally shook my hand and left. I let him go. It's not like I was going to tie him up or anything.
The lights were on as we talked, so I got at good look at him. After he left, I called the Lisle Police (3:14 am) and told the dispatcher I had just surprised a burglar. I described him as about 22 years old and 5'9" with a 2-4 week's beard and wearing a dark blue sweat shirt, dark sweat pants, a red shirt, and dark sneakers. (I later learned my guess was pretty good - he was in fact 5'9" and 20 years old.) I told them he was on foot, so if they hurried, he may still be around. They responded quickly. For the next few minutes, I saw patrol cars driving by, shining their lights through the trees. Three patrolmen came to the door and asked a few questions. They asked if anything was missing. I told them no, the intruder only had about 30 seconds before I confronted him, but I have to laugh because I wonder what they thought. My house looks like I've been robbed. The entertainment center, for example, has space for a TV and stereo, but sits empty. Everything of value, most of which would be hard to fence, is in the basement with my recording studio.
As we were talking, an officer radioed that they had detained a suspect at Hatch and Redwood who exactly matched my description. Officer Dean Anders gave me a ride to the scene. It was quite a sight, with squad cars on both sides of the street and lights flashing everywhere (3:40 am). "Did I cause all this?" I asked. We stayed in the dark patrol car while they walked the suspect into the open and lit him up. "That's the guy," I said, so they put him in the back seat of the nearest vehicle.
I was disappointed that he hadn't left any prints at my house since he wore gloves, but I suddenly remembered we had shaken hands. "In case there's any question, take good care of his right glove," I suggested, "My prints should be all over it." It turned out to not be necessary, and I got the impression they almost didn't need my ID, because he matched my description so perfectly and there aren't many people out at 3:30am to start with. They commented that I had provided impressive detail.
Officer Anders noted that it was interesting I had remained so calm. He was a nice guy. He drove me to the station to take my statement and even treated me to an orange juice. He stopped by later to take pictures and gave me an update. They found a pile of loot in the car, including 10 Xbox games and a couple of purses. The guy later confessed to everything, including three car thefts. Officer Anders also agreed to pose for a picture with me. I explained that I wanted it because my life isn't very exciting. Officer Anders mentioned that they don't often catch home burglars, but that this was about the easiest case he had worked on.
Have you ever wondered if you would be able to give the police an accurate description of a suspect if you were witness to a crime? On TV, they are very precise, but I've always thought my memory would be too fuzzy. It appears now that I would do just fine.
I had former roommates, Steve and Rebecca, laughing in church today when I joked that the burglar may have thought I was going to beat him up because of the look on my face when I saw that he was wearing shoes in the house.
This worked out well. I'm happy they caught the thief. I'm glad for the adventure. Most of all, I now have an interesting story to tell.