My hunches told me that this young kid had more street smarts than she cared to admit. She was very cool and composed, indeed, while the others were genuinely traumatized and panic-stricken. Apparently, she had slept through the entire night after the crime had been committed, unlike the others who were too terrified to relax into sleep.
When we got home we were interrogated by police officers and investigators to determine how the intruders entered if there were no signs of forced entry. Upon further collaboration and listening to all versions of how it all transpired, we were growing suspicious.
She stated that when the doorbell rang, (which curiously nobody else seemed to have heard,) she opened the door to personally tell the visitors that we were not home. What? How ridiculous of a story is that? Even any kindergartner knows not to open the door to tell an outsider that mommy and daddy aren´t home; one simply talks through a closed door. Besides, this theatrical artist apparently made a quick phone call from my house phone just before the thieves had arrived and immediately thereafter.
The next day all the housekeepers plus our dear friend were summoned down to the police headquarters to give a statement. One at a time, they left for about three hour intervals. As one arrived, the other would depart; it was a relay race of sorts minus any contact between parties while each was giving their formal account of the robbery. We sought to prevent anyone´s path from crossing for fear of a collaborated conspiracy. We trusted no one and we had good reason.
I chose to send this young apprentice the following day first thing in the morning. I wanted her to leave immediately without breakfast or coffee, fresh out of bed. Trying to think like an interrogator myself, I reasoned that by mid-morning, this famished teenager would be singing like a canary just to alleviate her starvation and succumb to her caffeine craving. I also knew she had not a dime on her, so purchasing a quick snack for herself was out of the question. Hunger would be a powerful motivator, I assumed, based on my empirical knowledge gained from observing her eat like a savage in my own home for three months!
As soon as she left to go downtown, I entered her room and scoured through her personal things. Trying not to vomit from the filth in which this conniving, heartless scavenger lived, I stumbled upon a small notepad filled with personal information, diary-type entries, and lists of phone numbers. I nervously ripped out page after page and snuck back into my bedroom to read through it all.
By 11am that morning, I got a phone call from the head detective, a woman who also smelled a rat from the minute she had arrived at my house and had spoken with all witnesses. She told me the girl, stomach rumbling and miserably uncomfortable, confessed. I told her I would be coming down to the station that afternoon to show her some interesting information that would be instrumental to her conviction. She was delighted.
Everything I found would have been enough evidence to accuse her of being an accomplice to first degree armed robbery. I was appalled that this monster had volunteered to put my four precious and innocent children in harm´s way...
They had trusted her. They cuddled up with her while watching movies at night. She made beautiful braids in their hair. My eldest daughter had even entrusted her to help care for her pet turtle Rainbow, who curiously was found dead the morning after this paid employee supposedly just changed the murky tank water.
Things were started to come together. The muffled cell phone calls she received incessantly and the "quick errands" she always had to run spontaneously. I especially always noticed her gazing and surveying everything in the house, as though she were taking notes.
It was an open and closed case, I was certain. Except for one thing, the law was on her side despite the overwhelming mounting evidence and confession....we were STILL living in a third world country, HER COUNTRY...
To be continued...