My dad called yesterday morning to tell us his house was broken into the night before while he wasn't home. His guns - many guns - were stolen. He didn't know the serial numbers - most of the guns he's had since I was a kid. He thought there would be no use in calling the police if he didn't know the numbers.
My ex husband was a cop. I know that someone has your numbers even if you don't - and they will be knocking on your door if someone uses your gun in a crime even years down the road. That did convince him to call the Sheriff's Department - I was ready to call for him.
I think the thing they don't reveal on TV shows like Law and Order and NCIS is that people desperate enough to steal guns (to presumably sell) are often kind of stupid. It may not take much police work to catch them. A simple knock on the neighbors' doors to ask if anyone saw anything may be all it takes. Unlike the people on police shows, real people in rural Ohio have no tolerance for criminals (which is why they have guns) - I am sure they will be very helpful. The criminals came in through an old, heavy garage door - unless they wore gloves on a hot evening, the prints are there somewhere - it definitely takes two hands to open and lift it.
He has been worried lately about the neighbors and about his house being broken into. I thought his fears were unfounded. He lives in a little neighborhood about an hour from the city. There are horses meandering in the field behind his house - he has owned the house for more than forty years and until now knew all the neighbors.
I admit I had the creeps when I lived at his house when I was a kid, mostly because it was so quiet at night you could hear the crunch of grass under a kitten's foot. I am certain it would take at least 30 minutes for a 911 response - so you are kind of on your own if something goes bad.
After I got off the phone with my husband, we pondered why anyone would know he had guns. Then it hit me - it's the plethora of NRA stickers on his car. They are an advertisement.
I feel very uncomfortable this morning - my mind can't help but spin plot around this. I see what could happen - not what has. I see my dad living alone, sleeping with a gun in his hand, waiting for the intruders to return. I see him as a much older and less coordinated Clint Eastwood in Grand Torino - and not as good of a shot. I fear the people who did this will come back for more, or the stress of anticipating their return will up his blood pressure to the point he literally dies of worry. I imagine the same thing he does - the thieves are living next door and are cleaning his guns, waiting to use them.