Half the people we caught never matched the photos cleanly. Desperation changed faces. The woman stood a few steps back, shaking, clutching what was left of her bag like it might disappear if she loosened her grip. I told her she was safe. That it was over. She nodded, tears streaking down her cheeks, still staring at the man like she expected him to lunge again.
By the time backup arrived and took custody, the adrenaline had faded just enough to leave a hollow in its place. I told myself this could be one of them. A burglar turned mugger when the pattern slipped. It happened. We’d seen worse escalations. I finished the statements quickly. Too quickly.