Justice?

Not really. 

But the cops did manage to recover some of the goods that were stolen from me a few weeks ago while working in an office in the Pearl District. 

I actually got a call from the officer at 2 a.m. Tuesday morning. (He works the night shift and thought the number I'd provided was a business line. But still, 2 a.m.?) Anyway, he'd pulled over a car in northeast Portland with four familiar thieves in it, and among all the other stolen loot were my briefcase and business cards. No laptop, of course, nor the library book that I'm being charged $30 for, but so it goes. And apparently there's nothing that links any of the guys directly to my stuff or when it was stolen, so there's likely little more to come of it.

Amy asked me tonight if I might still harbor some vengeful feelings. Of course I do. I must admit though, there's also a part of me that knows that the guy who stole from me probably has a life a lot darker than any I've ever known. That doesn't tip the scales in any way, but it does make me stop and think . . .