Foreshadowing, Part II

As I said in my last post, the Junkie and I separated for two years, beginning in 2000. We reunited in 2002 and moved into another rented house in the city. The neighborhood in which we lived is well-known for having a lot of junkies, but is not at all considered a bad neighborhood. Of course, 2002 was well before he became a junkie and we reunited with the intent to make our marriage better.

The Junkie had grown up next door to a brother and sister who had fallen deep into heroin addiction. Surprisingly, they now lived across the street from us and, although they were childhood friends of his, he made it clear they were not allowed in our home. They were well-known for robbing homes when noone was home, and also for stealing from anyone who actually allowed them to come in. The Junkie occassionally allowed them to come over and use our phone, but only on the front porch.

We only lived in this rented house for a year, because we bought a house in the same neighborhood. But during our year in that rented house, a 14K gold bracelet of mine went missing. I figured I had lost it, but I never really was sure, and always thought it was possible that someone had stolen it. We forgot about it, and prepared to move to our new home.

The new home was on a much quieter street. The house had been previously owned by an elderly widow, who had since been placed in a nursing home. We found the house when we visited it during an estate sale being held there. We bought the house with all the furnishings that hadn't sold, as her relatives had no desire to clean all this out themselves. This was a bonus for us, as the house was much bigger, and we pretty much needed the extras, and many of them were bona-fide antiques. Before we could move in, there was a ton of work to be done; washing walls, carpet cleaning, painting, etc. The Junkie took care of this, while I packed. He was working nights, so all this was done during the day. I packed after work for me, in the evening.

One day, this brother and sister walked by the new house and saw the Junkie outside doing some yard work. They greeted him and waved, and went on their way. As I mentioned, our new house was in the same neighborhood as the rented one, and they had to walk past the old house to get home. Realizing that the rented house was empty, with most of our belongings still in it, they broke in. When I got home from work that evening, I commenced with more packing. It was a weekend for the Junkie, so he was home helping me. I opened a box and realized things were out of place. I had a jewelry box that I had taped shut, so the drawers and door wouldn't come open in the move. The tape was gone. I called the Junkie over and showed it to him, asking him if he opened it. He said no, and said he would have no reason to do such a thing. When I finally opened the drawers, I realized much a few pieces of the gold jewelry were gone. Immediately, we looked at each other and said, "check the night stands".

We each kept a handgun in the night stands next to our respective bedsides. His was a .38, mine was a .22. You guessed it, they were both gone. I asked him if he was sure he hadn't packed them up. He said he was pretty sure he hadn't, but we checked the one suitcase he had packed. Nothing there. He remembered seeing the brother and sister at the new house, and figured it must have been them, knowing their reputation for robbing empty houses. And seeing him at the new house, they knew the rented house would have been empty. We looked around and saw they had entered in a back window.

We contacted the Police, who came right out. They took fingerprints, and we gave statements. The Junkie kept meticulous records of our firearms. They were completely legal, and he had the serial numbers written down and kept in a safe place. We provided these to the Police and I started to worry. My biggest worry was that my handgun would be used in a crime. I had a lot of trouble dealing with that, and although my friends told me it wouldn't be my fault, I couldn't help but think that if I didn't have a handgun in the first place, it wouldn't be out on the street now. I know, it's a stretch, but that was my mindset. The fingerprints weren't helpful to the Police and the robbery went unsolved. But we knew. A few months later, the brother got arrested for robbing several businesses in our neighborhood. He was sentenced to jail for several years and, as far as I know, is still incarcerated.

Months passed and we received a letter from the Police saying they recovered the Junkie's .38. It was found in the possession of a 15 year old boy, just blocks from the house. We were relieved that it was off the street, but my handgun was never found. To this day, I still worry about it.

Of course, this all occurred before he became a junkie. He had two of his childhood friends fall into addiction, rob him (and me) blind because of it, and yet he still started using heroin, their drug of choice, a few years later. He used to say he didn't understand why they let this happen. I don't know what was the appeal of him using it in the first place, and only he can answer that question. I consider this situation fair warning of what happens when people become addicts; you become desperate to support your habit and you steal from your friends.

Apparently, it wasn't enough warning for him.