That night at 10pm our doorbell rang and my husband answered the door because I was still crying my eyes out. I heard my husband yell “COME HERE HONEY, QUICK” fearing something had happened to our daughter who was out with friends I ran down stairs to the front door. There stood the police man and a Marine in is dress uniform. The handsome Marine was holding my purse in his white gloved hands like they held the American Flag at funerals. I hit my knees and that is when my husband carried me to the chair in our living room and asked the two men to please come inside.
After this police man had left me today he told every cop in the city about my purse and they all started looking for the punk who had stolen it. Once they had gotten it back the officer called the local recruiting station and asked if there was a Marine that would help him deliver the purse to me.
Once I had gotten myself back together I hugged them both and could not thank them enough. The police offer left but the Marine stayed and had coffee with us and talked for hours. Before he left he told me if I ever needed anything again to please call him and then handed me a card with his personal phone number on it. In some ways I feel like my son had just stopped by for a visit."