It all went down on a cold Saturday night, everyone who was anyone in this city was at the fundraising gala for the new science center being built, not me of course I was working. My name is Nigel Daff ex criminal, current inmate and this is my story. It was that faithful night in mid-May that would change my life forever I had decided to sneak into the high-end apartment building in uptown New York, something I did a lot, rich folks never put much into security with their arrogance and all. The night started out like all the others the doorman let me in as they always do if they see a well-dressed man stumbling about in the rain as if he had forgotten his keycard for his door.
“Get in here, out of the rain” the doorman shouted over the sound of running cars and pouring rain
“Thank you so much, I must have dropped my card. you’re an absolute lifesaver.” I replied sounding distressed.
I calmly walked past the front desk with a wave of my hand and a tip of my hat, I find that the key to get into someplace you don’t belong is act like you do. People have a way of not noticing you. I walked through the marble lobby under the glass chandelier to a stretch of elevators. I call the elevator and pull my phone out pretending to be fast at work, if you don’t engage in conversation people won’t ask you questions. Soon enough, the silver reflective elevator doors open into a mirrored elevator, I lean up against the back wall and pull out my gala guest list that I had printed from their website. I recognized a name from the building tenet list. Mr. Smythe Apartment 25, floor 6.
As the elevator doors open onto floor six I proceed down the hallway to my right.
“Apartment 25, apartment 25,” I quietly chant to myself “Aha! Apartment 25”
I walk up to the door and check to see if it is unlocked and sure enough it is. Too many people think a front desk and a doorman can keep their possessions safe. I walk into the apartment and close the door slowly behind me, to make minimal noise. As I turn around facing into the apartment, I survey the room. There is a television mounted on the wall to my left, and a couch to my right. There is a large window facing out of the building directly in front of me where a desk is sitting with a computer on it. The room to the left is a kitchen with stainless steel faucets, and granite counter tops. There are hanging lights above the island and can lights in the surrounding ceiling. The room to the right of the entrance is the master bedroom with an attached bathroom. The bedroom and bathroom are both of the highest quality and as modern as you can get. 
I began my search with the bedroom. I was looking for a safe or a jewelry box. Something with small, easily concealed possessions that would bring a high price. I check the nightstand on the left of the bed but unfortunately, it was empty. I move onto the closet hoping to find a safe. I open the double doors into a walk-in closet. The closet is lined with all manner of jackets, coats, suites, shirts, shoes, I quickly discover that Mr. Smythe takes great care in his appearance. I walk straight back and push his suit jackets out of the way revealing a wall safe.
The safe has a twelve-digit keypad consisting of numbers zero through nine, along with pound and star. I see that the safe is made by a company called Insink Security, and with a quick search on the internet I find that this model has a four digit pass code. I then look at the keypad looking for any worn keys from repeated presses. I see that the keys one, nine, six, and zero are all worn along with the star key. The problem I faced at this point was that with a four digit pass code there were far too many combinations for me to try. So again I went to the internet. It is amazing the amount of personal information that people will disclose on the internet. with a few clicks, I find the Mr. Smythe was born in 1960 which aligned perfectly with the numbers. I proceeded to attempt “1960*” and sure enough, the light above the pad turned green and I was in. Inside the safe was a few gold rings with set diamonds and two stacks of what I can only presume was emergency savings, totaling two thousand dollars in cash. I quickly grab the money and rings put them in my suit pocket and head for the front door.
As I approach the door to the apartment, I hear a muffled noise and a thump coming from the kitchen. I was worried that someone was in the apartment and I had missed them on my initial sweep of the loft. I moved quietly into the kitchen as I heard it again a muffled noise like someone trying to speak with their hand over their mouth and a thump against a wall. I peeked into the kitchen from the main room, I didn’t see anyone, but I did see a closet I had neglected to open. I swiftly walk over to the closet and fling open the sliding doors only to find a laundry room. The only thing in the room was a washing machine and a dryer, along with a few clothes. an amenity not many apartments have which, is why I missed it on my first run-through of the kitchen. Right as I was about to leave thinking my nerves were getting to me, the wall next to me was hit with a thump again. It was as if someone was in the apartment next to this one hitting the wall of the laundry room.
I moved out of apartment 25 and looked at the door to apartment 24, the one with the odd noise. I noticed the door slightly ajar with the lock broken and wood splinters in the hallway, I immediately knew something was wrong. It’s at this point I should probably tell you that the thing I hate most in the world is when people use violence to get what they want. It’s as the saying goes there is no honor among thieves. I would always choose my targets very carefully. they were never home and what I took could easily be replaced with insurance. I slowly pushed open the door to find that the entire loft was destroyed, couch overturned, glass broken, shelves empty with their contents all over the floor. I was fuming with anger and knew there was a hostage in the laundry room. I didn’t want to leave the person alone in danger, I wasn’t totally a bad person, my thieving started from a place of need, and progressed into an addiction for the rush.
I desperately tried to think of a way that I could get the person out of harm’s way and the bashful thief caught without implicating myself in the robbery I had just committed. I thought hard but I didn’t have much time. I could hear the man throwing things about in the bedroom I needed to act quick. I ran back to apartment 25 and picked up Mr. Smythe’s phone. I dial 911 and when the operator picks up I simply say robbery, gun, danger, hostage, apartment 24 then drop the phone leaving the line open. Now I’m on the clock. I need to get far away from here before the police arrive but I knew they would be in a hurry as most all that live in this building are donators to the NYPD.
I rushed to the elevators rapidly tapping the down arrow, the few seconds I waited for the elevator seemed like an eternity my heard was racing and all my thoughts were of me getting caught, the last thing I wanted to do. The elevator doors finally opened and I rushed into the mirrored elevator yet again rapidly tapping the garage key. As the elevator doors to the garage open my worst fear is realized, there standing in front of me is a security guard the grabs me by the arm and throws me to the ground puts me in handcuffs and before I know it I’m in front of a jury being sentenced to one year in prison and I managed to dodge a felony because I called the police to the building. As I found out that day the police had called ahead to security to lock down the building, a move I did not take into account.
As I sit here six months into a one-year sentence, I find jail to be far less aggravating as I had expected. Perhaps it’s because I don’t have to live in fear or perhaps, it’s because I did a good thing, I guess I’ll never know. All I do know is that with these final words my story is brought to an end.