2000-12-29 - 19:15:28
The Stakeout Next-Door

Did I ever tell the story about the stakeout next door?

I don't think I did! Silly of me, it happened after I started this online diary, about a month and a half ago, I should have written about it. But ... hmmm ... I think it happened Friday, 17 November, and I believe I thought there were other things more important to talk about.

Absurd Shell. The stakeout story is MUCH more entertaining! I should want to remember that, not the painful things. One tends to forget the bright spots in one's life much too quickly.

(My, am I a jabberbox today. I've already chattered about last night's dream and a story idea today .... but then, I got enough sleep for once, and I'm drinking Cherry Coke right now .... Both of which tend to make me a little wired ...)

It all started when I got home for lunch around 12:05. I'd eaten out with Jocasta the night before at a Chinese restaurant, since her husband was working late, so I went upstairs and got the leftovers out of my 'fridge. Jocasta was downstairs watching the lunch-time news ... Yes, it must have been the 17th, because election coverage was still on all the time. She had the volume cranked, so she was deaf to the outside world.

I, on the other hand, was upstairs in an attic with very little insulation, and four windows. I heard voices outside, so I moved to the nearest window, takeout box and fork in my hands, munching while I peeked out through the mini-blinds. Down below, at the near edge of the neighbor's front yard, I could see the ugly brown van pulled into the gravel driveway, as usual ... but beyond it, standing behind a thick tree in the middle of the yard, was a uniformed cop.

His arms were braced against the tree, a rifle was in his hands, and as I watched, he yelled again: "______, come out with your hands up!"

I stared in disbelief for a minute, and the demand came again. "______, drop your weapon, and come out with your hands up!!"

I dropped the food on the coffee table and ran for the stairs. "Jocasta!" I yelled, in a stage-whisper. "Do you hear that?!"

"Hear what?"

"What's going on next door! There's a cop yelling at the neighbor!!"

"What? I don't hear anything."

"Turn the TV off and come upstairs! You've got to see this!!"

She did as I asked, and we both tiptoed back to the windows together. Now there were two officers in the neighbor's front yard; a county sherriff had arrived, and was standing behind the big brown van, another rifle in his hands, backing up the cop. We watched for the next fifteen minutes as the two of them intermittently yelled at the neighbor to put his gun down and come out with his hands up. Every so often they'd move around a little or talk to each other, but mostly they were pretty tense.

I went and got my food again, and my cell. Jocasta had the handset to her phone with her, so we both called our mothers, from the sheer novelty of the situation. Here we were, two middle-class WASP girls who'd never (in person) seen the police do more than give traffic tickets. We were fascinated. (I know that's horrible, but it's true).

Our mothers, of course, were horrified. My mom thought at first that I had the television on, and I was teasing her about it; the cop had a megaphone by now, and his demands were pretty loud. Then a squad car pulled up, with more cops in it, and they began to announce that the House Was Surrounded, and also: "______, we're only here for a couple of misdemeanor warrants, you're just making this harder on yourself!"

Stupid guy. Now he was Resisting Arrest, and Threatening Officers, in addition to whatever minor crime he'd committed. Suddenly, everything below us got a bit more tense, and the sherriff detached from his position to come into our front yard. The van was parked between the neighbor's front yard and ours, but I guess they feared if it came to a gunfight, our house might get hit anyway.

He knocked on the front door, and I told Mom we were probably being evacuated; I hung up, grabbed my purse, and followed Jocasta downstairs. Sure enough, he asked us to leave the house and go around the street corner in the other direction. He didn't seem much older than us, and vaguely cute, but it was no time to be ogling. Around the corner we went.

We sat down on the sidewalk, and then I began to laugh. Now I couldn't get to my car, which was parked in front of our house; and since it was now 12:45, it looked as if I wouldn't make it back to work on time. I called the office, and told them I'd be late; the gals seemed shocked and a bit disbelieving of my reason. I didn't blame them.

To pass the time, we emptied my purse out on the sidewalk and inventoried the contents. You'd be surprised at the things that can hide in a medium-sized purse; I found change and lost lipsticks and a favorite pen that had been missing for months. And then of course there were my wallet, my phone, my hand lotion, my wristwrap, a few bills that needed mailing, a packet of stamps, another pen, some gum, a Tootsie-Roll Pop, some Altoids, my car keys, some wrapped teabags ... The list goes on. *grin*

Finally, around 1:15, all the yelling stopped, and the squad car drove away with a scruffy-looking guy in the backseat. Then the sherriff left, and the last cop drove off on a motorcycle. We stayed there another minute or so wondering if anyone was going to tell us if it was OK to return, then gave up. We'd been forgotten!

Since then, everything has been quiet and subdued next-door ... but I'm pretty sure the guy still lives there. Wonder what he was arrested for? Hmmmm ....