lass shards were scattered all across the platform and the entrance to my business when I arrived in fall 2006. I approached the doors, cautiously, but annoyed to find the mess. I peered through a two-foot wide gaping hole in the glazed entry door to see a sizeable concrete block that had come to rest about 25 feet inside the waiting room. The marks on the terrazzo floor showed that it had made impact 12 feet from the door, before sliding under the tables in the far corner of the room. It appeared to be one of the parking yard curbs, that prevent cars from pulling up too closely to the building, that had been launched at the tempered glass with such force that it had not only shattered the double-glazing, but had vaulted through, landed inside and broken into several parts.I questioned whether it would be wise to enter, but knowing the speed with which police respond in this town, and especially on a Sunday, I knew I'd be waiting outside for at least 40 minutes if I called. I opened the door, carefully, and a shower of broken tempered glass niblets dropped from the frame onto the welcome mat.
Once inside, I threw my briefcase behind the desk, pulled out my cell phone and began to scour the building. It was well before 7AM, and although daylight, the building basement and belfry provided only one means of exit. My offices occupied the second floor of the building, and it was not uncommon for me to stay late into the night alone. Having only one means to exit the second floor, I kept a small rounders bat within reach of my desk, under the credenza, as a safety measure. I made my way upstairs to retrieve it before proceeding. The alarm had been inactive for several months, after my company wound up, the building was largely empty except for my office suite, upstairs, and downstairs the Starbucks coffee shop that I'd created for my ex-husband to operate.
Oddly enough, there was no one in the building, and nothing in the way of evidence that anyone had entered either, yet a cash register only feet from the compromised door contained several hundred dollars. I settled down to call the authorities, and as suspected, they arrived some 30 minutes or more later. The police officer recognised me, as in the previous few years, I'd been required to solicit assistance on several occasions after DF's departure. He was the officer dispatched to investigate when I discovered the sidewall on the front tyre of my vehicle had been slashed with a knife shortly after DF moved to live with KMC.
After completing his report, the police officer claimed that they would step up patrol of my office building at night, asked me to alert them should anyone been seen lurking in the area and asked if I knew of anyone that was irritated with me as the damages inflicted appeared to be malicious and a statement of some sort. I informed the police officer that I had little contact with anyone these days, but that I had divorced three years ago. He nodded, and repeated for me to not hesitate to call should I see anything peculiar, and bid me a good day.
I began to sweep glass shards into a pile to place in a waste bin. I'd need to secure the building before nightfall and call a glass company the following day. I looked downstairs to find a sheet of plywood that I could place over the door.
As the patrol car pulled away from the building, it was hard not to find it very coincidental that the day prior I'd received confirmation that a copy of my leave to appeal, submitted before the Supreme Court, had been delivered to KMC and DF's home.
The door would not be the only incident of malicious destruction of property. After more than a year of standing idle without incident, Thursday morning of that week, after word had spread throughout the region that my former company equipment was under purchase contract, I'd arrive at the facilities to find that all the furnishings inside the equipment had been overturned, as if a herd of elephants had been let loose. Aside from broken glass from lamps and anything that had not been buttoned down being scattered all over the floors, it was principally just another task to attend to before the equipment could be transferred.
Noteworthy was that the equipment had been locked. In fact, in the prior 15 months after the company wrapped up, it had been my nightly duty to patrol the equipment and check that all doors were fastened and locked. I'd never left the property without ensuring that all was secure, no matter whether it had been in the middle of winter, or the middle of the night. This could only have been done by someone who had a key, or once had a key that had been copied prior to its return. I reflected on the fact that DF had held onto keys to the company property and my home for quite a few months after his departure, but of course had no proof that he was responsible.
Anger is like those ruins which smash themselves on what they fall ~ Seneca
