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<p>[QUOTE=&quot;Hommer, post: 2599709, member: 73266&quot;]I have had my truck broken into 4 times through the years. The first time, they stole the stereo system out of it.</p><p>&nbsp;The 3rd time they knocked the window out and stole a stainless 357 magnum that I had stuck in the crack beween the seat. The grip was visible. All with me at less than ten feet from it, but there was a concrete block wall between us and when I got to the door he was gone, but I did get a glimpse of him. Decided it wasn&#039;t a good idea to chase him down with the little 380 I had in my pocket. I gave the police the serials and photos of the gun. 10 years ago now, nothing has shown up.</p><p>The 4th time they knocked the window out and stole a carton of cigs I had laying in the seat.</p><p><br /></p><p>I saved number 2 for last. I was young and had a young family and was barely getting by. I had gotten a job building a huge library in a home for a very very wealthy client. I won&#039;t give his name, I never talk about my clients or their projects, but it was a dream project for me. The materials for the job were all American Chestnut that had been salvaged from a barn in Pennsylvania. If you know a thing or two about materials, this stuff was like gold because the American Chestnut is an extinct species.</p><p>Anyway, I had just started the job and had all my tools in locked boxes on the truck and a few in the cab. It was a Friday and my family had invited us to come to the lake and spend a couple days, at their place. I was running late when I got home and just pulled my truck up in the side yard next to the driveway and got out in a hurry, I did lock it though.</p><p>When we got back home Sunday, the first thing that I noticed when we pulled in the drive was the lid on my big box was cracked open. My heart sank, because I knew that my tools were gone. Expensive tools, that had taken me years to buy, and I didn&#039;t have the money to replace. Every box was cleaned out and even the cab. I didn&#039;t even have a hammer. I had left the keys to the boxes in the cab. I called the police, all they did was make a report. </p><p>That was the worst feeling in the world, all I could think about was showing up on a job like that one with no tools and no money to get any. It hurt my pride to do it, but i called some friends and told them my situation, and asked if I could borrow some things to keep me going. If you know craftsmen, they don&#039;t give or loan their tools, that&#039;s like loaning out your wife, but they do understand what it&#039;s like not to have any.</p><p>A week or so had went by and nothing from the police and I had spent what I could gather here and there to replace some of the small stuff, when I get a call from a guy I knew in another town that said he had bought a saw and trim gun off of a guy on a job and had heard about me losing my stuff. I jumped in the truck and went over there. He was a nice guy, when I told him that they were mine, he instantly told me to take them and gave me the guys name that he got them from. I knew him, had since I was in grade school. On the way back home, I just kept getting madder. I went to the guys house, pistol in my pocket, going to get my tools or else. I knocked on his door and when his wife opened the door, I asked for him. She said to wait a minute, and shut the door. I stood there getting even madder. She opened the door again and said he was busy, wrong answer. I told her to tell him my name and if he didn&#039;t come out, that I was coming in there after him, he came out. He had a look on his face like &quot;what did I do?&quot;. I asked where my tools were and he acted like he didn&#039;t know what I was talking about. I told him that I had already gotten the ones that he sold to the one guy, where were the rest? After some serious conversation, he admitted he had traded dope for the tools and had sold a $800 hammer drill to another guy for $50, but those were all that he had. He said that he would get the drill back and gave me the name of the guy he got them from and told me that that guy was in jail.</p><p>It&#039;s like midnight now, but i was too riled to give up. I called a buddy, who is a deputy investigator for the Sheriff&#039;s Dept. and told him the story. I asked him if there was anyway that I could talk to that guy that was in jail. He told me to meet him at the jail and he would get him out.</p><p>When I got there, he, the deputy, kept telling me that he would let me talk to him only if I promised not to hit the guy. Yeah he knew me well, we played highschool football together, I promised that I wouldn&#039;t. When he brought the guy in the office, my attitude changed. There was this 17 year old skinny kid, that from the looks of him, hadn&#039;t had a decent meal or a bath in months. You could just tell he had had a hard life. I sat down in front of him and told him that all I needed were my tools back so that I could make the money I needed to take care of my family. He told me where every one of them were and that he hadn&#039;t sold any of them, but had traded them for different things. Beer, food, and drugs. They were to 3 different people and since they were people the cops knew well but could never catch them red handed, they were happy with the info. He also told me that I left the vent glass open on the truck and that he just put the tools in my trash can that I had left on the curb, and just rolled them down the middle of the street. He made several trips. To keep this from getting any longer, it took about a week for me to get all my stuff back.[/QUOTE]</p><p><br /></p>

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