Dealing with an NYC break-in
Crime and Punishment
had to call the New York City police to report a theft—and felt slightly guilty doing it. Because I knew that of all the crimes occurring throughout the five boroughs at that moment, my issue was surely a low priority. But it was an emergency in my world, and I needed a police report for insurance purposes. My golf clubs were missing. For almost two years, I parked my beatup Chrysler 200 on 93rd Street between Amsterdam Avenue and Broadway without a problem. But on a cold night in February 2015, someone broke into the trunk.
When I got to my car that morning to make the roughly 40-mile drive to Golf Digest’s old headquarters in Wilton, Conn., I noticed the trunk was slightly ajar. I figured I’d clicked the trunk button by accident to unlock the car, so I pushed it shut and didn’t give it a thought until I arrived at work. Then I peered into the trunk and, of course, my clubs—and my roommate Matt’s—were gone.
Now what? I called the Wilton police department and was told I needed to report the crime where it took place. When I got back to my block that night, I made the shameful 911 call, and within 10 minutes, an NYPD car pulled up. I explained to the two officers how I didn’t notice the clubs were missing until I was in Connecticut, and one of the officers cut me off: “Is this some insurance play, buddy? It is tax season.”
I get it. It’s New York City, where everyone has a b.s. detector. But I wasn’t angling at all. And frankly, I wasn’t thrilled that the officer had that reaction. “No, sir. If you have a lie-detector test, I’ll prove it,” I offered.
“Wait here,” he told me. He and his partner went back to their car for about 10 minutes before returning to tell me: “We can’t help. Your point of discovery was in Connecticut, so you need to report it with them.”
The next day I told the Wilton police what the NYPD cops said. The guy laughed. “Those guys just told you that