Police and Thieves in Cuba
HAVANA TIMES – That morning, my phone alarm woke me up. My body insisted on not leaving the comfort of the sheets. Invisible hands caressed me, a supernatural invitation to fall back asleep.
I had to get to a work appointment early, so I mustered some energy and, with sleepy steps, left the bed.
I can’t start the day without a cup of coffee, so before heading to the bathroom, I went straight to the kitchen to prepare the sacred drink. Since sugar has long forgotten the way to our kitchen, I sweeten it with honey —it’s not the same, but it does the job.
The electric stove we had bought two months ago was not in its usual place. The door was closed, the windows in place. At that moment, my brain was searching for coherent answers, but it was hard to process all the information.
“Dariel, Dariel, wake up. What did you do with the stove? Wake up, honey, I think it’s been stolen.”
“What? What are you saying?”—my husband got out of bed and looked around as if the thieves were still crossing the gate.
Our house isn’t big, so we quickly took stock. The electric stove, Dariel’s cell phone, a box of cigarettes, and six packages of fish food were missing.
We didn’t grasp the severity of the situation until I found the kitchen knife in the living room. These people had entered during the night while we slept, took the phone from the table next to my husband, saw us naked and defenseless, and all that while carrying a knife in case one of us woke up before they finished their crime.
The entry point was a small gap in the metal bars of the gate that divides our house from the neighbor’s. Only someone slim and agile could fit through there. Few people knew about this spot; it wasn’t obvious, at least not unless you knew it existed.
We told the investigator in charge of the case when he arrived hours after we filed the report.
The police car didn’t have fuel, the dogs were sick and had been taken to Havana. The forensic expert took scent samples from the knife, and they didn’t find any significant fingerprints at the scene, even though we left everything in place!
The officer assured us they could triangulate the phone’s location as long as it was still on. That’s why we didn’t cancel the line that day. The thief used the phone freely, changed passwords, blocked people, and made the mistake of communicating with others.
The next day, with the call log requested from ETECSA, we found out that messages had been exchanged from the stolen phone with another number unknown to us.
That’s when my odyssey as a private investigator began!
I discovered the name, photo, and address of that person. Even if they weren’t involved in the robbery, they at least knew the person who exchanged messages with them. We gave all the information to the police, and the officer summoned the person to the PNR unit in our municipality for an interview.
This person provided some names and supposedly wasn’t involved in the robbery, at least not physically, as he was disabled. Both the investigator and we sensed that he knew more than he was letting on.
On my own, I found the names and addresses of three suspects, two of whom live in our neighborhood, and one knew about the gap in the gate. These two were supposedly summoned, and on the day they were going to compare the scent sample from the knife, the forensic expert had personal issues, so it couldn’t be done.
The officer gave us the name of a suspect, a name that had already surfaced in my investigation. When I sent him a photo and the full name of this person, he said he would look into it. But every time I asked, I got evasive answers. Then someone told us that this man works for the police. As we say in Cuba, he’s a snitch.
I’ll never forget when the investigator, “embarrassed,” said to me:
“You’ve uncovered more than I have; it’s true that the one who suffers, suffers!”
“Man, all I’m missing is a uniform and a baton to finish solving this,” my husband replied.
Anyway, our effort wasn’t enough. Taking justice into our own hands could only bring more problems than we already have. Once again, the thieves get away with it in this country! We, the victims, move on, now with new expenses. The mediocre police, lacking resources and suffocated by bureaucracy, are incapable of solving such a simple case.
My game of cops and robbers is over. I haven’t called again, haven’t asked any more questions. If karma exists, let it punish the guilty.