Thursday, April 30, 2009
My husband called me at work yesterday and started the conversation with the following phrase “there are four cop cars in front of our house.” In that split second my mind shot off in thousand different directions. Knowing better, I still blurted out “Please tell me it’s not for us!"’
The story goes something like this. . .
At around four PM my son yelled up to my husband “Hey dad, there are cop cars in front of the house.” Dave stops what he’s doing and comes down to peer out the window with my son. There were four cars in all, all parked in front of our house, including one blocking our driveway. To a casual observer, it would look as if they were trying to prevent US from leaving. Dave grabbed the phone and called to give me the play by play.
1 – Cops arrive. No sirens, just lights. All four cars park in front of our house.
2 – Cops enter the house next door and almost immediately come out with the first of two brothers . He is handcuffed, but seems calm and cooperative. One of the officers puts him in the car and buckles him up for safety. As he is doing this, two more officers exit the house carrying a box and some file folders. These items are put into the trunk of the patrol car.
3 - Two officers go back into the house and there is no activity for a while. After a few minutes inside, officers two cops lead the second brother out of the house in handcuffs. He is agitated and not cooperating at all. One of the cops tries to get him into the car but the second brother fights him. The cop aggressively handles him and gets him into the car, struggling to buckle him in. After he is safely buckled, the cop gets in his face, screaming at him pretty intensely. All the while, our sprinkler is running, dousing the cop trying to subdue the other brother. As this is happening, the other officers are laughing at the cop getting soaked.
4 - Now that the two of them are in the car, every neighbor on the block begins to come home from work. They drive by slowly, but all that they can see is four cars with flashing lights and a gaggle of law enforcement collected in our front yard. It is at this moment that my husband realizes that he’d better show his face outside so that all the lookie-loos don’t think it’s him behind the tinted glass of the squad car. He hung up the phone and I booked it out of the office.
As soon as Dave showed his face on the front walk, neighbors began pouring out of their hiding spots. People that haven’t spoken to us in the seven years that we lived there suddenly came up and introduced them selves and slipped in an “Oh, by the way, what happened with the police? “ Those fake-ass people can bite me. Let them think we’re criminal. Keeps them from asking to borrow our rakes and shovels.
After the swarm of nosy neighbors subsided, three of the four cop cars took off, leaving one empty squad car behind. My son was looking in the windows of the car and joyously proclaimed that one of the cops was drinking a Dr Pepper. His junk food addiction is starting to worry me. I pulled into the driveway just in time to see the last nosy neighbor walk by with her dog and to watch my cat spray the bumper of the cop car with urine. Way to go Spike!
Cut to today. After spending all of last night speculating as to what could have gone down and coming up with a list that included – Meth Lab, Malitia, Tax Evasion, Money Laundering and Terrorism, I finally got on the phone and called the police department. According to them, there was no criminal activity associated with last night’s events. Someone was simply “taken to the hospital”. Ok, someone needs to call bullshit! I very politely asked the officer “You mean to tell me that two people were taken out of their house in handcuffs, one violent and uncooperative, along with boxes and files of evidence because they needed a ride to the “hospital”? Yes m’am, that’s correct. Mmmmm hmmmmm. OK pal, whatever you say. My only guess is that maybe hospital is code for psych ward. I’m half tempted to call the hospital and ask where I should send flowers. If they say 10th floor, I'll know what we're dealing with.
I know that I am indulging in the same nosy neighborism that I accused everyone else of, but this is my next door neighbor. We share a fence. And it's not like we can go over and talk to them.. We have had very little contact over the years. They have always been a little guarded and reclusive (a kind euphamism for weirdos). Their house is lost behind a fortress of overgrown shrubbery and they look down at the ground when they get in and out of the car. If this was just their way of making sure that we never ask to borrow their rakes and shovels, mission accomplished.
Posted by Diary of a Mad Bathroom at 6:08 AM