MY ICON PROBABLY SCARES YOU ALL
The police came again this morning, asked us a bunch of confusing questions, called some of their superiors, and in the end asked for a phone number they could contact us with. I had to give them my phone number since my roommate's doesn't work. Two minutes after they left, the police commissioner from Nimes called and was like, "Can you come to Nimes right now? Do you have a car?" To which we of course replied, "No, we're students," while thinking 'Why the fuck do you expect us to go to Nimes right this minute?!' She said to go to the police down at the Comedie instead, and to call her when we did so.
Confused and slightly panicked, we called Amy. She was calm, and said she'd call the Nimes commissioner to get details for us. And so she did.
And thus I have the answer to the riddle of why the police are suddenly so interested in our six-month-old break-in.
THEY CAUGHT THE GUY.
He actually confessed to the crime of our apartment in particular, because he remembered my roommate's name from the buzzer placard?!?! W-what the hell did they do to him to make him confess. But he's a ... mm, I hesitate to say 'well-known' criminal, but he's been working Montpellier for a while and he's robbed quite a number of people. (This made me happy, because I've always wondered if we were too obviously stupid, naive Americans and thus easy targets.) He's going on trial tomorrow, which is why the police are so frantic to get our complaint. More victims, you know. Unfortunately he's sold all our stuff, but that doesn't surprise me. I kind of wish I could punch him. Jail time would be a fair alternative, though.
So we went down and filed a complaint and I somehow managed to save the paper that had my list of stolen items in French. It got a bit worrisome when they asked me to describe the man, because well. Six months later and all I saw of him was his back. B-but it did mention in the complaint that I wouldn't be able to recognize him, so hopefully I won't have to like. Testify. O-oh God I hope I don't get called to Nimes.
... But man. I have given evidence for a court case in a foreign language. This is kind of cool. TIME FOR A CREPE.
Confused and slightly panicked, we called Amy. She was calm, and said she'd call the Nimes commissioner to get details for us. And so she did.
And thus I have the answer to the riddle of why the police are suddenly so interested in our six-month-old break-in.
THEY CAUGHT THE GUY.
He actually confessed to the crime of our apartment in particular, because he remembered my roommate's name from the buzzer placard?!?! W-what the hell did they do to him to make him confess. But he's a ... mm, I hesitate to say 'well-known' criminal, but he's been working Montpellier for a while and he's robbed quite a number of people. (This made me happy, because I've always wondered if we were too obviously stupid, naive Americans and thus easy targets.) He's going on trial tomorrow, which is why the police are so frantic to get our complaint. More victims, you know. Unfortunately he's sold all our stuff, but that doesn't surprise me. I kind of wish I could punch him. Jail time would be a fair alternative, though.
So we went down and filed a complaint and I somehow managed to save the paper that had my list of stolen items in French. It got a bit worrisome when they asked me to describe the man, because well. Six months later and all I saw of him was his back. B-but it did mention in the complaint that I wouldn't be able to recognize him, so hopefully I won't have to like. Testify. O-oh God I hope I don't get called to Nimes.
... But man. I have given evidence for a court case in a foreign language. This is kind of cool. TIME FOR A CREPE.