Sailor's homecoming shattered: USS Lincoln crew member returns to ransacked apartment

Eight service members attempted suicide during the USS Abraham Lincoln's deployment; one sailor's homecoming was severely disrupted by burglary.
That was kind of taken from him
A Navy veteran father reflects on his son's shattered homecoming after a decade-long deployment.
Mark

So Connor Nelson serves on an aircraft carrier, comes back from nearly a year deployed, and walks into a burglary. That's the basic shape of it?

Mimi

Yes. He'd been gone almost ten months on the USS Abraham Lincoln. The car was gone, the apartment was ransacked. TV, laptop, shoes, fishing gear—basically anything portable and valuable.

Luke

Do we know when the burglary happened? Was it while he was deployed, or right after he got back?

Mimi

The reporting doesn't specify the exact timing, just that he discovered it when he returned. It could have happened weeks before or days before.

Mark

And his father came out to help him?

Mimi

His father is a retired Navy guy, twenty-two years of service. He flew from Minnesota to be there. He talks about what homecoming means to a sailor—it's supposed to be this bright moment after months away.

Luke

That's a powerful observation from the father. But I want to separate two things here: the burglary itself, which is a crime that happened to one sailor, and the broader deployment stress the article mentions.

Mimi

Right. Eight suicide attempts across the whole carrier group during the deployment. Two hundred fifty straight days at sea. Maintenance problems, supply issues.

Mark

So Nelson's bad homecoming is one story, but it's also a window into a much larger problem with how long these deployments are lasting?

Mimi

That's how the reporting frames it, yes. The article connects his personal crisis to the systemic strain on the crew.

Luke

But I should note: we don't know if the burglary was connected to the deployment at all. It's a crime of opportunity. The connection is emotional and thematic, not causal.

Mark

Fair. But the fundraiser—that's real. Over twenty thousand dollars raised.

Mimi

Yes. The community response was substantial. That part is concrete.

  • Connor Nelson came home from nearly ten months aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln to find his car stolen, his front door unlocked by thieves, and his apartment stripped of electronics, shoes, and personal belongings.
  • The deployment itself had already pushed the crew to a breaking point — 250 consecutive days at sea, maintenance failures, supply shortages, and eight reported suicide attempts across the carrier group.
  • Nelson's father, a 22-year Navy veteran, flew from Minnesota to be with his son, recognizing that the burglary had stolen not just property but the hard-earned emotional relief of coming home.
  • A community fundraiser launched in response has surpassed $20,000, signaling a collective impulse to restore what was taken and to honor what Nelson had already given.

When a young sailor spends nearly ten months at sea in service of his country, the homecoming is more than a return to an address — it is a restoration of self. Connor Nelson arrived at his Lemoore, California apartment after one of the U.S. Navy's most grueling recent deployments, only to find that strangers had methodically dismantled the life he had left behind. The burglary, set against a deployment marked by record time at sea and eight reported suicide attempts among the carrier group, reminds us that the sacrifices of military service do not end at the gangway — and that the communities who receive these sailors home carry a role in that return.

Connor Nelson had been sustaining himself through nearly ten months aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln with the quiet promise of homecoming — the familiar spaces, the rest, the sense of having made it through. When he finally arrived at his Lemoore, California apartment, his car was missing from the lot and his front door swung open without resistance. Inside, thieves had taken his television, laptop, shoes, and fishing gear — the small, accumulated comforts of a life put on hold.

The loss was made heavier by what Nelson had already endured. The Abraham Lincoln's deployment was one of the Navy's most punishing in recent memory: the crew spent 250 consecutive days at sea, contended with maintenance failures and supply shortages, and, according to a letter from Acting Navy Secretary Hung Cao obtained by CBS News, saw eight service members across the carrier group attempt suicide during the deployment.

Nelson's father Justin, himself a 22-year Navy veteran, flew from Minnesota to be at his son's side. He knew precisely what a homecoming is supposed to mean to a young sailor — the accomplishment, the relief, the reconnection — and he understood clearly what had been taken beyond the physical inventory of stolen items.

The family turned to an online fundraiser to help replace what was lost. The community responded with more than $20,000 in donations, a tangible expression of recognition for what Nelson had given and what he came home to face.

Connor Nelson had been counting down the days. Nearly ten months aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln, most of it in the Middle East, and finally he was heading home to his apartment in Lemoore, California. The anticipation of that homecoming—the rest, the familiar spaces, the sense of having made it through—is something every sailor understands. It's the thing that sustains you through long stretches at sea.

What Nelson found when he arrived shattered that moment. His car was gone from the parking lot. When he pushed on his front door, it swung open without resistance. Inside, the apartment had been systematically stripped. Thieves had taken his television, his laptop, his shoes, fishing equipment—the accumulated small comforts of a life interrupted. The violation was complete.

Nelson's father, Justin Nelson, a Navy veteran himself with twenty-two years of service, flew from Minnesota to be with his son after the break-in. He understood what that homecoming was supposed to mean. "I know what it means to come home, you know, like what that means to a sailor," Justin Nelson said, "and it is such a bright spot, you know, in a young sailor's life to come home and, you know, get that relaxation, see family, see friends, and just, you know, hey, you have the sense of accomplishment, you know, and that was kind of taken from him."

The timing of Nelson's return coincided with a broader reckoning about the toll of the USS Abraham Lincoln's deployment. The carrier had been stationed in the Middle East for more than nine months—a record stretch—with the crew spending two hundred fifty consecutive days at sea. According to a letter obtained by CBS News from Acting Navy Secretary Hung Cao, eight service members across the aircraft carrier group attempted suicide during that deployment. The crew also contended with maintenance failures and supply shortages that compounded the strain of an already grueling schedule.

The carrier returned to port in late August, and Nelson's homecoming should have been a moment of relief and reconnection. Instead, he faced the immediate practical and emotional weight of replacing what had been stolen. The family launched an online fundraiser to help cover the losses. The response was substantial: the campaign has raised more than twenty thousand dollars, a reflection of the community's recognition of what Nelson had endured and what he came home to face.

I know what it means to come home, you know, like what that means to a sailor, and it is such a bright spot, you know, in a young sailor's life to come home and get that relaxation, see family, see friends, and just have that sense of accomplishment—and that was kind of taken from him.
— Justin Nelson, Connor's father and 22-year Navy veteran
Contact Us FAQ