Disaster!!!

Oh, my God. Oh my, GOD! Today has been frazzling.
This is will be heck of a long post. Please bear with me. If you don't have a spare hour, don't read.
Okay. Okay. Okay. Rachel, get a hold of yourself and calm down. Get it together. Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't start shaking, and don't cry. You'll short your keyboard and drop your laptop.
Right. I'm in my more logical mind now. I can explain this.
I'll start from the beginning, as that's the best place to start. This will just go over the basic events of the day so its understandable, and later, I will post the good happenings of the day when I've calmed down a little, and slept. Insomnia sucks, and it's been hard.
We were in the city for the day, at the park, biking, and at lunch, we stopped at a picnic table and were interupted by this stoned, homeless and very talkative skateboarder (Sorry, Tom, Harry, Adam, etc.) that seemed nice enough, but seemed rather taken with me, which was terrifying in itself, and rather more taken with my sandwich. We left, pronto. Then, three hours later, after an exhausting day getting lost cycling around San Fran (trust me - that is a whole other story in itself!!! Watch this space!), we get back to the car to leave to gussy, as we're going out for dinner with friends, and the window is shattered with a very skateboard-shaped bash. There is glass everywhere, embedded in the driver's seat, splayed across the passenger, through the back as well, the boot has been popped, and Mum's expensive, leather bag is gone, meaning all the pics of my dead grandparents, us as little kids, and photos from home (NZ) are gone too.
Mum's way more frazzled than me. She's so upset about losing her pack. Bennett is shaken and upset and confused. Dad is just pissed off.
I actually was the one who freaked the least. I knew I wouldn't get through it if I thought about what had happened at all, so something in my subconscious fell into professional mode, and put all the research I had done on FBI criminal investigation to work. I had my camera, so I took pictures, like a Crime Scene Investigator would, and walked around the wider crime scene with the video camera , dictating my thoughts and what I saw. I really tried to be logical, and think it all through, what may have happened, what a CSI person would do. Not easy for me.
So, my thoughts, for what their worth. I want to go through this, and write it down, because being able to think this through logically makes me feel that little bit more in control. Consider it the Police Incident Report. Again, I say, bear with me. You don't have to read this.
I know that immediately suspecting the homeless guy is cruel and judgemental, and all I have is circumstantial evidence - nothing that would hold up in court - but, I trust my gut instincts, which usually never lead me astray, and I have a suspect, motive, and weapon.
The homeless guy introduced himself as Damone - a fake name most likely, Mum said. Sounds like Demon. Sounds tough. He had mentioned being an escaped parolee. Dad saw him follow us to the car without reasonable doubt. Suspect sorted. He has no alibi, and has a criminal record.
Motive? We're a white family, obviously well-to-do, both me and Dad are carting expensive cameras, we have good food which we didn't offer him, flash bikes, our accents betray us as aliens, and we're together. Everything he doesn't have. Obviously we've never lived off the streets in our lives. Jealousy and anger can be powerful motivators. I know I would be bitter in such a scenario, and goodness knows my nature is not to go in fists blazing.
Weapon? He was fiddling with the skateboard when talking to us at lunch, and I examined and photographed the window. I know I am no expert, but I am also not dumb. I could tell that the window had been broken by a single, blunt-force trauma (duh), and the object had been large and wide, as the glass that had fallen into the car had been the same basic diameters as a skateboard. Besides, I've seen pics of windows broken by thugs at home with skateboards, and it was similar.
God, I would have given my eye-teeth for silver nitrate powder, and gel electrophoresis. Not to mention a ruler, a pair of latex gloves, a doctor's mask, etc. Ya know, the basic CSI's kit.
Okay, logistics over. Normal, emotional Rachel is back again. I know, as I'm finally in tears. It's about time. I was wondering why I wasn't sobbing earlier, as I knelt there, calmly taking photos, serching for Mum's purse, comforting Bennett, helping Dad fish glass out of the driver's seatbelt.
I think I went into minor shock after the effects of "professional mind" wore off. All the way to the airport to get a new rental car, we were conversing and being police-ish, but at the airport, I was left to my own devices while insurance and the rest were sorted, and it really started to sink in. What if my computer had been in there? That would have been all my stories, my music, my photos, the ones I took of everyone before I left. Those pics are my only links to NZ for the next month. And, my STORIES! Those are my life. We were so lucky that he just saw the most obviously expensive thing and ran. There was actually quite a lot of things in that car. Mum had her wallet with her. The only thing we lost are the photos she always keeps, which is tragic, but not life-stopping.
Have to go. I got three hours sleep last night, and I've been biking, rowing, and panicking all day, and haven't eaten since my very hasty lunch.
I'll post the rest of today as soon as I can, I promise.
Sincerely,
Detective Childs
P.S. Knew all that being observant and "Sherlocking" would come in handy.