From the Baltimore Sun:

By:Betty Barkas Hood

It’s safe to presume that when many of us begin our days, we don’t anticipate being a victim of crime. Rather we go about doing the things we do and expect to end our day on an uneventful note, our beliefs and attitudes largely intact. We are blissfully unaware that we are being stalked, that danger hovers nearby — or at least I was.

It’s a sunny afternoon in June, and I’m sitting on a bench outside Starbucks, relaxing. A few feet away, while I sip my cup of coffee, a criminal patiently waits for the opportune moment to strike.

The criminal is a predator, and I am the prey. In less than a second, he swoops down, shattering my privacy and sense of safety. He grabs the expensive electronic device from my hands, which I held lightly, while composing a review of another experience, now lost, along with so much more. My earphones dangle, disconnected from my iPhone, and I know what has happened. I am in shock, feeling acutely violated.