Is This Closure?

You know it’s going to be an interesting day when you wake up to a voicemail from the Chicago Police Department

Well, after 20 months they finally got around to processing the DNA evidence left in my apartment after it was broken in to in December 2011. (If you weren’t a reader back then, here’s the recap.) It feels like it happened yesterday—or rather that sinking feeling of seeing my front door wide open in the darkness returns surprisingly quickly.

But they did get a hit. The guy, a Mr. Rolana Whitcomb, is already in jail for residential robbery for seven years. I’d never seen him before. The detective said I could go after him, but since what he stole (only) added up to a couple thousand dollars, it wouldn’t be worth it to pay a lawyer, court fees, etc.

Apparently he has a tattoo that says “Poo” and “My Balls”…

I’m just glad I didn’t walk in on him in the act. And I’m relieved I don’t live in a garden unit anymore! Not that that means something can’t happen on the second floor, but I do have renter’s insurance now, and feel really safe in my building and neighborhood.

Here’s to better juju!

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