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Home Invasion

A lot of people who read this blog, think it's a work of fiction.

I'm not surprised to be honest. Roles reversed...I would be of the same opinion.

Just to clarify; it's not fiction. None of it. Every word is fact.

However, I'm aware that this post isn't exactly going to help matters when it comes to those who believe I live in a world of fantasy. What can I say? It's very much real.


In late 2019 when my front door was hanging off it's hinges from drug raid number 4 or 5, and it had become common knowledge that a vulnerable woman lived in the property, I became the perfect target for the criminal underworld in the city. Subsequently, I was preyed upon by every burglar, scammer, fraudster, drug dealer and rogue landlord going.

In the early hours of one morning, I woke up to find myself staring at two stocky men, wearing balaclavas, armed with machetes.

In a strong Irish accent, one of the men demanded money. When I explained that I didn't have any, a short discussion between the two of them ensued and it was decided that my possessions would be taken instead.

I was ordered to remain seated and silent while the men ransacked my home for any valuable items.

I had learned from my horrifying experience being cuckooed, that the best tactic if you couldn't defend yourself, was to befriend the attacker in the hope their subconscious, instinctive feeling of guilt (a basic primal emotion all humans possess) would prevent them from harming you. So, I struck up conversation.

I presume you have a vehicle?

I asked. For a pile of my belongings was steadily mounting.

Their panic stricken glance at one another said it all. There was no vehicle. So I pointed out the obvious...

How are you going to transport all that?

I said, pointing at the pile.

I received no response.

Listen, why don't I help you guys? I know where everything is after all. Just tell me what you want and I'll find it.

I stated.

The men both nodded in agreement. They told me they wanted anything that they'd be able to sell. Then, pointing their machetes at me, they declared that should I kick up a fuss, there would be consquences.

The men quickly got comfortable while I ransacked my home for anything they could sell in order to make money. During this time, their balaclavas came off revealing their identity, and I learned that they were brothers from Ireland who lived in the area. They bragged about their fearsome and violent reputation, not realising they had mistakenly disclosed their full names in the process.

Once the brothers had amassed a pile of my belongings and couldn't carry anymore, they decided to leave. But my tactic in befriending them to prevent getting hurt had not worked. To reinforce their threat that I keep my mouth shut; both men beat me black and blue before they left.

I immediately rang the police.

More than 24 hours later a police car rolled up outside my house. I was beside myself with panic because I had pleaded with the phone operator not to do this for fear of repurcussions. Two male officers casually strolled in. One smirked and said

who did you piss off?!

The other officer laughed.

I tearfully gave them a brief outline of the incident which had occurred, mentally preparing myself for the full statement I knew I had to give. So I was bewildered when the police officers advised me against doing so.

Listen, it's not worth the trouble it would cause. These men will do exactly what they've threatened to do and you'll end up being severely hurt. Anyway, nobody likes a grass do they?

I was quite literally speechless, and before I had time to protest, the officers got up to leave.

Stupidly, I took their advice.

So this morning, when I read a newspaper article about a violent home invasion which happened to a family, injuring the mother and 14 year old daughter...I was horrified to see a picture of two familiar Irish brothers being named as the perpetrators.


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