I awoke at 3 a.m. to 12 missed calls from my mother and a text message reading, “I got robbed! “Come fast!” I hurried to her residence. “I didn’t send you a text!” Mom remarked when I arrived. I showed her my phone. Her color abruptly faded, and she went inside. When she returned, she was clutching her phone. She showed me a text message that had not yet been sent.

She admitted, “I composed this but never submitted it. “I changed my mind at the last moment.” The message said, “Honey, be careful! I recently learned from the news that your community is under jeopardy. There have been multiple robberies around your home.”
I froze. If she didn’t send the text, who did? And the missed calls—if not from her, who was calling me? I made sure she was secure, stayed for approximately an hour, then drove home.

When I arrived, my front door was open. A horrible feeling settled in my stomach. Inside, my house had been plundered, and numerous of my belongings had disappeared. Someone had broken in.

I still get chills thinking about it. Was it an odd coincidence? Or had someone hacked my mother’s phone in order to lure me away? I was so frightened that I sold my home and moved out a few weeks later.