My husband, my daughter and myself were held up at gun point in a home invasion in Costa Rica in May 2011. It was a case of mistaken identity as they followed the wrong white Toyota and came to our condo instead of following the guy they were looking for. But the result was the same for us. Terror. I was sure we were all going to die when we were lined up and told to lie down on the bed. We lost two lap tops, an Ipod, two wallets and contents. Our daughter was 22 at the time and it took her a lot of counselling and time to overcome this. It took me over a year before I could be home alone. I know this can happen anywhere, but Costa Rica is where it happened to us, so I don’t ever want to go back there. It’s a beautiful country but it is ruined for me.
My immediate thoughts after the robbers took off was relief, followed by thinking all they got was stuff, it could be replaced. And then I felt sorry for them — to be reduced to such a pathetic life as to do that to people. How do they go home to their mothers and look them in the eye? (Assuming mama is a decent human being.)