There are Philadelphia police officers and civilian employees who are sitting in a room in South Philly who can track a smartphone stolen in Oxford Circle, watch what’s going on at Arrott and Griscom streets in Frankford, search for a car believed to be involved in a murder and look for crime patterns.
That window air conditioner you turned off but didn’t put away after the weather turned cool might let in more than a draft. A burglar could just push it in, crawl into your home and walk out with your stuff.
For many years, Nov. 11 was a holiday for me. It meant no reveille that morning. It meant a day without fighting my way through traffic formations. It meant no maneuvering to try to find a seat on the express train to town. It was a day to desist from the duties of the day’s regimented drills. Clearly, I wasn’t AWOL. I was just on a day’s leave, thanks to the veterans. I always appreciated that day.
Little did I know what fate and destiny would conspire to cook up for me when my car found its way to a strange, lone house on a barren hilltop – the address my editor gave me to cover a Halloween masquerade food party.