Saturday afternoon, Greg's grandmother went to get her mail. There's a letter addressed to "Mrs. Vera", the name she's known by at the store that delivers her groceries. It lists items from one of her shops (very specific to two weeks ago) as well as graphically detailing how she'll be
raped and killed if she doesn't call the number at the bottom of the page and give them $10,000. She calls the police, they come and tell her it's probably just a prank, but she shouldn't throw out the letter just in case. We stupidly assume that her son, Greg's uncle, will be coming over to stay with her since he's a 15 minute drive away.
Sunday: Greg and his sister take the letter to the grocery store in question--conveniently located down the street from where the family lunch is to take place. The store management is really concerned and can't believe they weren't contacted by the police, but they have a pretty good idea of who this could be and will look into it.
Lunch: We decide we need to tell the restaurant people because Rose (age 91) who owns the joint, lives next door and also gets her groceries delivered from the same place. The more people who know about it/are on the lookout the better. Plus, if anything is going to happen with this, the restaurant people can make it happen. Theirs is one of the most venerable in the old Italian core of the Bronx--they have clout in many ways.
We grab Rose's daughter-in-law and tell her what's happened. 5 minutes later, her husband calls a buddy of his who's the captain of that precinct at home, who then calls the captain of Greg's grandmother's precinct at home, to ask why the hell nothing has been followed up on this. Greg is then called on his cell by the second captain and is asked to come in to swear out another statement. Fine. We finish dinner, I go home with Goog, Greg is dropped off at the precinct. It's 5:45.
At the station, after waiting forever, Greg is grilled three ways from Sunday. The first was the liason guy who's really pissed that another precinct captain got involved in this. (I'm guessing that people being called at home on the Sunday of a four day weekend was NOT a happy thing for anyone involved.) The second about why his grandmother isn't there herself--with the flat out statement, "I'm sure you're a great guy, but we really have to consider the possibility that you've already killed your grandmother and you're concocting this story to cover it up--but I'm sure you're a great guy. 'Cause we see this all the time." Luckily, Greg is sane enough not to be insulted and has no problem with that.
In the meantime at the house, Greg's uncle calls and can't understand why I'm there or why Greg is at the station. I ask him where the hell he's been. "It's just a prank. She should just put it out of her mind." He goes off on how we're totally overreacting. (This is the guy who bragged to me that he flashed a weapon at a neighbor who'd told his mother not to walk her dog on his lawn.)
Greg then arrives at the front door with two cops behind him. Of course, I've double locked the door so he can't get in and it's thundering so we don't hear him knocking right away. The cops have their hands on their weapons when I open the door. They retake her statement in person. They agree that it's probably a prank, but they will take it seriously and detectives will follow up on it. Granted, aggravated harrassment doesn't rank anywhere near the top of their list of things to be dealt with, but c'mon, the initial complaint hadn't even been entered into the system. They leave. It's 9:15.
She feels better just because the situation has received some serious attention. We felt better that the businesses involved and her neighbors are on the lookout.
Tiny mice...tiny mice...
Tiny mice...tiny mice...
