Guest Author - Monica J. Foster
On the morning of Monday, October 27, 2008, I was at home alone when a stranger broke into our apartment. I've learned many valuable lessons since that incident.
Typically, when someone knocked on our door, I didn't answer unless I was expecting someone.
It was a typical quiet morning at home and I was still in bed taking a "personal day" away from work on my computer, leaving off TV to just relax and reflect. I slept in lazily that morning, my ear plugs shoved in my ears to throw off any noise from neighbors still at home during the day or lawn workers.
My husband was at work like usual, so when I heard consistent banging on our front door (yes, even through my ear plugs), I figured it was the usual delivery person and ignored it since they can take packages to the leasing office. After several minutes of silence, I settled back on my pillow. Then, I suddenly heard this thud at the front door. It didn't sound like my door being kicked in and the frame being split from the wall. I didn't hear the lock plate fly across the front entry onto our living room carpet. What my mind registered as possibly my husband coming home early with an arm full of groceries and kicking the front door open before him was something altogether different.
When I registered it couldn't be my husband I called out, "Who is it?" "Yo, Maintenance!" the voice yelled out to me. First of all, our maintenance team at our complex makes appointments to come by and always calls first just before coming by. A cold prickle went up my neck and I called out, "What do you want?" I heard foot steps and suddenly this form was in our bedroom doorway with a gun pointed at me. I jerked up as he yelled, "Don't move or I'll kill you. Where's your money?" peppered with expletives.
As I jerked to sit up I realized how stupid it was because I hadn't followed his instructions not to move. He cocked the gun. I begged him not to hurt me and nodded toward my wheelchair by the bed, that I couldn't move and didn't have anything. He grimaced and groused that I didn't have anything and ran out the front door---and strangely closed it behind him!
I immediately called 911 and calmly described the individual. I kept wondering what kept him from hurting me, wondering what he wanted. Would he be back? I left 911 on our land line and called my husband on the cell. I heard later that he was at lunch and with little explanation to the lunch group, dropped his plate at his feet and ran to his car to get to me.
On his way home he called our leasing office and one of the office staff came over to keep me company. All the while I still have 911 on my landline hearing all these interactions. I was so terrified I literally wet our bed. It was embarassing when the leasing staff came in to watch after me, but I was a mix of numb and terrified. I couldn't move and didn't care I was lying in a wet gown.
Once the police got there I gave them as much information as I could remember, feeling out of my body as I heard myself being as calm as possible. A part of my brain was ripped in terror. I wasn't quite sure what had just happened to me. It was so surreal.
When my husband got home I collapsed against him and finally lost it. Was I okay? Was I alive? What happened? I just couldn't wrap my brain around anything other than a feeling of terror.
We had never used our alarm system since moving in, but that was going to change. My dad is a gunsmith and highly encouraged my to consider some protection. Different people have different views of firearms, but I have no problem exercising my right to bear arms for protection. That same week I got a permit and began steps to responsibly learn to use the firearm.
I spoke with a counselor to deal with the incident. For a few days the pizza guy or Chinese deliveryman scared me to death banging on our door at dinner. My husband began changing the way he came home. He would call when he was on his way, announce himself when he unlocked the door and typed in the security code at our entry way. On occasion, the apartment staff calls just because and the maintenance crew may stop by to see if I need anything. I'm still astonished how the anticipated noise and the reality of a kicked down door don't sound similar. Television really does not give a realistic expectation of a kicked in door.
I got to know a few neighbors after that who graciously offer to check in on me while I'm home working in case I need something, but I'm also able to get out more now. Whether you have a disability or not, that's just common neighborly kindness to check in with neighbors. What was odd was this happened while I was about to end my time on bed rest, getting up and out a little, but the break-in made me want to stay hunkered down at home behind the veil of the security system. Certain noises I usually ignored, voice types and builds began to bother me. I learned to get over this short-term response, but occasionally it flairs up again when I'm under stress. It's a daily exercise.
The suspect hasn't been caught and may not be, at least not for the crime against me. But, I'm glad I was able to keep my head, give a good accounting, respond to safety measures afterward and move on. Do strange noises still bother me? Yes! And I answer the door when someone knocks now. I talk to our neighbors more so they know I'm around. I learned from the police to never leave a door unanswered. The perpetrator probably thought he was breaking into an empty apartment and then was already committed when he heard my voice. If you are home alone, keep in touch with family and let people know you are at home. Learn self defense skills that match your abilities.
These were hard lessons learned, but I'm glad I learned them in a way that didn't cause me or anyone else any more harm than was done. These scars can heal...day by day.
