Ala CSI

Reeling from the muscle aches of the badminton queuing last night, I wake up to the sound of the chirping of the birds, which for a moment, made me feel lost. There were no bird chirping sounds in Boni where I live. There are drilling, yes, and the faint sound of cars passing by Edsa. Ah yes, I am in QC, where I hope to someday live, maybe even retire.

My life as a thirty something singleton? Could be busy, could be boring. These days, as I eagerly await the 9th season of CSI Vegas (Will Warrick come back? What would it be like with Lawrence Fishbourne there? I would so miss Grissom..), I turn to CSI New York, and in the process fell for Eddie Cahill. But the real reason I, and I guess, most everyone is hooked with CSI is because their stories told in many different ways, mostly teach us two facts:

1. how methodical and scientific processes can help bring out the truth
2. people lie

Anyway, I don't think too much nor dwell on negativity so several times during the show when the cops would be careful to examine the evidence, or careful not to touch the evidence before the CSIs arrive, I would remember several skirmishes with the local police. Oh yes, I am of age, and dealing with cops is part of the experience.

When I was still living in Manila, where I would park outside, there was one time my car was towed, my side mirrors were stolen thrice, and one time, I almost caught the perpetrator. I don't know what came over me but I woke up early, maybe it was not even 5 AM. Mama is already sweeping the front yard and told her I think we have to check my car, which was parked on the avenue at the corner, certainly not within eyesight. She was surprised, probably worried if I had gone sick, but she went with me anyway.

Baranggay tanods were supposed to be patrolling, but thieves would have their way. As it happens, I had a very strong gut feel because the thief apparently heard our footsteps and scooted away, leaving behind a broken rear seat window pane (the smaller one,to unlock the car), a set of screwdrivers, and his fingerprints all over. There was also the car radio missing, which he would not be able to use because the head is gone (the bf told me to remove it each time I park in a public place). I can almost see the thief probably tucked behind a tree, or within an alley while we call on the baranggay tanod (who, in Sampaloc, are either bums or occasional drug users). Nobody saw anything, they say, but they heard running.

I took a ziplock, and careful not to touch the screwdriver with prints, I lifted it and placed it onto the plastic bag. There were 2 small tools I think that the thief also left, which I also put in. Early in the morning I went to the nearest police station in Sampaloc, sa presinto quatro,and gave the evidence to the police at the desk. I told him about the incident, and said that I am bringing in the evidence. He looks at me, takes hold of the ziplock, and unloads the contents on his desk. Then he touches them all, one by one, while explaining to me that the odds of catching the thief is almost impossible. While he was doing this I was aghast, and told him

"What about the fingerprints?" (In tagalog, syempre)

That was when he told me, by his action, not by his words, that they don't do that. It is safe to say that in the Philippines, cops don't do this. At least for petty cases of robbery.

I don't remember much of that day except that moment. I still have the screwdriver from the thief. And oh yes, by some weird underground network of thieves, addicts and baranggay connections, my radio head was returned to me, but that's another story.