God bless Dentonites. From a burglary report in the Record-Chronicle:
The victim’s girlfriend told police she’d received a call Saturday night from the suspect, who said he was inside the apartment and wanted to know where the victim kept his cash, according to the police report. The suspect then listed off the items he and an accomplice were taking, including cash, a laptop computer, knives and an iPod, according to the woman’s account to police.
She said the accomplice sent her photographs of the stolen items and of damages they caused to the apartment, but she could not produce the images to the officer because she deleted them, according to the police report.
The suspect says the victim is “always making things up.”
3 comments
ahh… college roommates. I’m pretty sure that is a trial that all young people must endure. I feel pretty lucky, mine only stole my food and locked me out when I didn’t come home “on curfew.”
Let me guess? Near Frye Street?
My college roommate stole my STP — if you don’t know about this saw-toothed snake, believe me, you don’t want to; for whatever reason, it makes chicks go insane; even Terence McKenna recognized and warned about this — and took off to Port Aransas and god knows where else for several weeks with his girlfriend whose real name was Melanie but who had assumed the name of a popular fruit or more precisely gourd for some time by then. When they returned, they had a look in their eyes like — well, like black holes in the sky. Much of the source of their bewilderment had apparently been buried in the Gulf Coast sand in a fit of apprehension and foreboding. I couldn’t be mad at them then: I played Kate Bush.
Melanie was not okay for awhile and she abandoned her botanical monicker for a more meteorological one and undertook a rigorous campaign of kundalini yoga and execrable artwork. Dave was fine, the tough old nut. I guess he had learned his lesson about stealing.