While most Boca Raton residents rest safely, my family feared for our lives. I was only eleven years old, even though i clearly remember it as if it were yesterday. Wednesday, January 21, 1998, my family and I were all sitting down having a discussion as well as looking at jewelry my father brought home from his store. My entire family was home-mother, father, my three brothers plus my grandparents, who were visiting.

Out of now where three armed men in maskes and gloves burst through the patio door of my home in a gated community. The intruders were carrying an Uzi, a revolver, and a semi-automatic handgun. One man spoke English, and the other two spole Spanish which we all understood given that we speak the language. They put us all in one room. My housekeeper tried to sneak out of the house when she saw them, however they spotted her taking off, grabbed her by the hair, and guided her back towards us.

They demanded "the drugs." Problem was the men had the wrong house. Supposedly, the man they were searching for lived in our same neighborhood and drove an identical car to use. "Please do not shoot my daddy!" My older brother tearfully called out to the men. When the men realized they had the wrong house, they stole my families jewels and money. The jewelry they stole was valued at nearly $200,000.

My father explained to the sheriff he was a jeweler and had some of his inventory at the house that night. They took every penny in the house, but more importatn, my family lost our sense of security. I was frightened to death that night. The sheriff recommended we buy a dog to protect our home, which we did shortly after. Boca Raton is not safe, no matter where you live.

Ever since the night fo the robbery I learned not to take anything for granted. Without a doubt, the robbery pulled my family members close and to always support eachother even in the worse cases.