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21 April 1997---459 Auto |
I sprung out of bed, tripping over the stack of books I keep on the floor, desperately trying to remember where I had last left my glasses. When I got to the window, I peeked out and could see in the dim light a man opening the passenger door of a truck parked in the apartment car port that backs up to our yard. I hesitated about calling 911.
It could be someone moving in or out of the complex, but something didn't seem right. The guy was working at being quiet, and he got into the truck quickly making sure the dome light wasn't on for but a second. Meanwhile, my spousal unit was snoring away making it hard for me to hear anything through the open window.
I grabbed the phone and called 911. If I was wrong, so be it, but if I wasn't maybe the Fremont PD would finally be able to nail the guy who had been using the cars in our neighborhood as his personal parts supply.
I got through to the dispatcher right away and after a quick introduction explained why I was calling. I did my best to give her directions, which she was passing along to the officers in our patrol area, and at the same time I was describing what this guy was doing and what I could see of him. The light was behind him and most of his features were in the dark.
The Fremont PD officers were in the vicinity almost within a minute or two, but the burglar, after going in and out of the truck a few times, left with his arms full. In the end, he wasn't caught.
He got away with a stereo, three speakers, and a cell phone. Jerk.