Emily, a close friend of my wife, has an uncanny knack for ending up in very unpleasant situations, though she hardly goes looking for trouble. She’s just incredibly unlucky by nature.
The first bizarre incident took place about three years ago. Emily was returning home from work at midnight. She parked her car and, as per her usual routine, hurried to cover the thrilling and suspenseful hundred-meter dash to her front door. Just three meters short, two hooded figures emerged from the shadows and told her to freeze. They demanded cash, jewelry, and other valuables, and to prevent any unnecessary argument, they struck Emily on the head with a bat.
The result: a concussion, a large bruise, and minor issues like the loss of her purse, which contained crucial documents, money, keys, and her IDs and passport. Once she regained consciousness, poor Emily filed a report with the police. Reluctantly, they opened a case, only to close it soon after, citing “inability to identify the perpetrators.” Emily was deeply upset, yet undeterred, she canvassed her building to see if anyone had witnessed or heard anything.
Fortune eventually smiled on her. A resident had parked his car outside that night with a dashcam running. Not only that, upon noticing the commotion the following morning, he proactively took the video to the police. However, the authorities remarked that the footage was blurry, the audio was unclear, and the faces of the culprits were too generic to be distinguishable. If only they wore shirts with their passport numbers and addresses, the police remarked sarcastically, then they might have a case. Emily had to concede defeat, left only with a memento video.
Since then, her husband made an effort to meet her at the parking lot, with the kids watching from the window. But he was also a busy man and sometimes arrived home even later. So, occasionally Emily had to make her way from the car to her building alone. It wasn’t long before a similar incident occurred. This time, after a familiar blow to the head, she managed to spray the attackers with her pepper spray, resulting in just two hits, the latter much harder.
The police didn’t diverge a jot from their prior plan. They closed the case faster this time, as Emily didn’t see the attackers’ faces. A stressful year passed, during which her husband packed his bags and left to seek an easy life abroad. Emily managed to change several jobs, get a new hairstyle, and redecorate her apartment.
One day, Emily was at a car wash and spotted one of her attackers. It was clear he was well-acquainted with the staff. Nevertheless, the police said flatly, “Even if it’s him, without clear evidence, we can’t proceed. The video is too blurry, and it’s not obvious if he struck you or just happened to emerge from the building with a bat. It’s not feasible to stake out a car wash around the clock. Perhaps you should start wearing a helmet if you’re out late.”
Another spectacular year went by, during which Emily’s headaches finally abated. She even fell in love with a steadfast gentleman and happily married him. Amazingly, the old robbery case sprang back to life. Both attackers were swiftly captured and given lengthy sentences, leading to much relief. Yet, despite life settling down, minor criminal nuisances still seemed to find Emily, as if karma had an eternal grip.
One evening during rush hour, Emily was running late for an important meeting. She abandoned her car and dashed into the underground. Upon emerging, she discovered a long, brutal slash on her beloved bag, and inside, her colorful wallet containing all her documents, credit cards, and vacation cash was missing. Making a few obligatory sobs, she promptly called her beloved husband, grateful her phone hadn’t been stolen.
“Hello, love, you won’t believe it, but I’ve been robbed again, probably in the underground.”
The steadfast gentleman was instantly alert. “Emily, don’t worry, everything will be fine. Where are you?”
“By Victoria Station.”
“Stay on the line and head back to the underground. Find any officer, hand them the phone, and relax.”
Within minutes, Emily was seated in the transport police office, surrounded by bustling officers kindly offering her a choice of tea – green, black, or with bergamot.
And in just a couple of hours, a sweaty and breathless but very elated officer burst through the door with her stolen wallet in hand. Everything was intact, even the cash.
It’s good to be married to a police commissioner.
