It was 5 a.m. on May 15th. I woke up to the sight of my 21-year-old son at my bedroom door. “I think I heard a noise outside,” said my son nervously. I jumped out of bed and I went to the front door to check on our cars outside, thinking it was likely that my Honda Civic would not be where I left it in the garage.
I told my son, “Don’t come out. Let me check the camera.” We installed security cameras when we first moved to this new home a few months ago. I started the recording and I saw that they were robbing me. Two men approached my home, one with a blue Warriors hat on and the other with a face mask and a dark Pirates hat on. They check the two cars parked in my driveway. They first shine their flashlights into my work truck, checking what was inside. They then move onto my old Civic. I watch helplessly, as they use a device to disable the alarm and open it.
I moved to the United States over 25 years ago from Veracruz, Mexico and have lived with my family in Concord ever since. I came to create a better life and to give my children a chance to raise their families in America. It was hard watching the car that I’d sacrificed so much to buy, just for my daughter to use, being stolen in front of my eyes.
It was hard watching the car that I’d sacrificed so much to buy, being stolen in front of my eyes.
Valentín Rodríguez, 53, Concord
My daughter just moved in from Mexico and just started her new job working at Burger King. Her shifts are late at night and her job is not close by, especially without a car. The thought of her taking public transportation at 11 p.m. just didn’t sit right with me. So, I bought the old Honda Civic off my brother-in-law and I finally felt comfortable and safe with my daughter now having a mode of transportation.
Three hours after we reported the stolen vehicle to the police, the same brother-in-law who sold me the car found it. He called me and said, “Hey, why’s your car over here in this parking lot?” I dropped everything and went running. It was parked at a shopping center just a few miles from the Concord Police Department, the same police who told us they were “looking for the car.”
When I pulled up to the car, I assessed the damage. It was seemingly intact — until I peered inside to see a small bag of drugs sitting in the backseat next to a drug pipe. I immediately called the police. I asked them to come quickly, that I had found my stolen car and there were drugs that weren’t mine inside. Being associated with drugs could put me and my family’s lives at risk.
I sat on the curb in front of my stolen car and waited for the police to arrive. And I waited and waited and waited. An hour passed. I called the police back to see where they were. They said they were coming, and I decided to tell my job that I couldn’t go to work that day. Another hour passed and I repeated the process. Again, they said they were coming. Three hours later they arrived, they cleaned out the car and told me I could take it. The process took them maybe 20 minutes, and I lost half of a day that I could have dedicated to work.
I wonder often why me and my family have suffered this much theft. Our Honda Civic was stolen twice; so was the car my son drove when he was in town visiting us. When we lived in downtown Concord, people broke into my wife’s car and stole some checks and some change she had from her job cleaning houses. One time they also broke into my work truck and stole the tools I use for my construction work, which cost me hundreds of dollars to replace. We hoped when we moved to the much quieter neighborhood we live in now that things would change. We couldn’t imagine what was waiting for us. My neighbors ask me, “Why does this only happen to you?” My neighbors are white Americans. We live on a quiet block that almost seems like a dead end. So why us?
Back in May, after the theft of my daughter’s Honda Civic, I could barely sleep the first week afterwards. I would wake up with my heart pounding and my anxiety would force me to go outside and check that our cars were still there. I would open the security camera app just to make sure everything was how it should be. I lost the ability for a long time to sleep peacefully in my own home, as did my family. My children were afraid to leave windows open in fear of someone climbing into our home. These experiences also taught us much about how to react to theft, and how to behave with the police.