I took my cell phone up to my bedroom (which I never do because it makes my alarm clock buzz). But in my exhaustion (and hunger) I forgot to also bring my headset. My phone's handset volume is broken and I can't hear anyone who calls without the headset.
At about 4:55am the phone rings. I answer it, then realize I forgot the headset. I heard "Whazzup Bitch?" Which is a possible greeting from several of my friends, so I ran downstairs, frantically searching for my headset so I could see if it was the guy who got mugged or someone who knew about it. I told them my phone was acting up and I couldn't hear them. I couldn't find my headset and ended up hanging up... which is when I found the headset hanging over the back of a dining room chair... wtf, I never put it there...
And it was then that I finally had the presence of mind to check the caller ID-- it was my friend's phone-- the one that was stolen. Those bastards were calling me on a stolen phone.
Then, the phone rang again and it was them (apx 5am). I was pissed. As soon as I said hello they started yelling about the fact that I was a bitch and a whore-- at which time I told them that they were idiots to call from a freaking stolen phone because now we can track their ass down (okay, I wasn't sure but I wanted to get them to stop calling). I then told them I was going to conference call their ass with the police and see how they liked it-- please hold-- (which they did) while I dialed 911 then connected both calls-- at which time the punk ass hung up.
I asked the 911 lady if there was anyway to track them down, that they were probably going to call all of the numbers, and she said no. The best she could do was send the police to my home (at 5am) to take a statement. I live across the city from the assault and knew, the way that the keystone cops work in that area of the city, that it would do no good (OMG, don't get me started about the police in that area). So I went to bed, again.
The next day, emails started trickling in: Other people from his phone contacts got calls (for them this was out of the blue-- they didn't know, as I did, the backstory) and they got my emails. Finally, my friend called and let me know what happened:
He was walking home from work, feeling tired and cranky and not really paying attention (isn't it always how it happens?). On his way, he heard people running. He thought it was some friends from work playing a prank and was slow to turn around. When he turned, it was not his friends but two black guys, young, and one had a gun. My friend, shocked, dropped to the ground (well, I'm not sure why, but that's what he did). That's when the phone apparently dialed and I got to listen in. The guy with the gun held it to my friend's chest and started yelling "Fucking Nigger, fucking nigger" over and over, really working himself up. Then he started to demand, getting high, I think, on the power, that my friend give him things. First his money, then is phone, then his bag, then his coat, then his dog collar (a cool neck collar, leather, studded), then even his shirt, then he asked for my friends boots.
At that point my friend protested, and some time had passed (about four minutes). The second guy was getting nervous and vetoed the boots. So they took his bag and ran.
My friend got up, shocked and cold, and started back towards work so he could call the police and get a uniform shirt to wear home. On his way up the street he saw his cloths on the ground and two black guys walking ahead of him. He could have sworn it was them-- but they still had the gun, so he doubled back to work and called the police.
Meanwhile, the assailants were heading back to their hangout to empty out my friend's bag and see what was in it, find out I was listening and hang up. And that's when I called 911.
When my friend got back to work, he called the police too, which is why I got the call back from 911, letting me know he was okay enough to file a report.
And then, because of where he works (a restaurant), his coworkers were still there and decided the thing he needed was a drink and opened the bar for him so they could commiserate...
...hours later he got home and passed out, happy as a clam (all things considered).
So while he was sleeping, myself and his friends were getting frightening phone calls, ranging from being berated over the phone, to the assailant leaving a detailed message about what they'd done to our friend. All of us were left pretty shaken up and uncertain if our buddy was okay...
...Unaware that he was fine. He'd not been beaten up or shot, he'd fallen of his own free will and gave them what they wanted (well, except his boots, a man has to keep his boots...) so he was okay. We could only expect the worst.
But the next day, from a friend's house, he called all of us to let us know he was alright (ah, the tedious price of having people care
So that's the story. I doubt there'll be more to follow, so that's it for me.
Oh, and I don't quite feel so bad yelling at the guy on the phone and trying to conference him with 911 (instead of being suave and trying to get clues). One of the women that they called, pissed because of the time, simply yelled into the phone "STOP CALLING ME!" and hung up. LOL. Not necessarily helpful in the ongoing investigation but both heartfelt and effective-- they didn't call her twice.
It does turn out that my speed dial for my friend's phone is pound sign+1, so it was easy to auto-call me by mistake when trying to call 911. So the reason I got the call and not someone else was simply because I was first in the list.
Keep that in mind, being first... it can be a greater responsiblity than you'd think.
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