Finally Meeting the FWPD: September 2003 - Part II

Thursday, September 11 Officer Marshall called me at ten thirty in the morning requesting to change our meeting time to today (between 3:15 and 3:30 in the afternoon.) At a little past three, I went out to the front porch and waited for his arrival. I began to notice a lot of police traffic (both patrol cars and unmarked) in the area, and I realized how strange this might seem to FWPD. Here I was inviting (luring?) a very high ranking officer to come and visit my house in the heart of crack-town. Can’t blame them for being cautious. Officer Marshall called around 3:30 to say he was running a bit late but was on his way to my house.

Officer Marshall arrived at 3:45 and parked a few houses down from me. As he was getting out of his car, an elderly lady with a cane was feebly trying to negotiate her way across the street. Officer Marshall allowed her to hold his arm as he walked her to her front porch. It was a true Norman Rockwell moment, and I was beginning to feel that I had finally found the cop who was going to help me get things under control here.

I had quite a few things that I wanted to say to Officer Marshall and, much to his credit, he seemed prepared to listen. I told him that I viewed last Monday’s incident as a significant change in the behavior of the dealers, and that I planned to begin more aggressively asserting my property rights. I asked for legal clarification on this (what I could do, what I had to leave to the police). I also requested a copy of the incident report from last Monday’s incident and asked that he inform other officers that I am willing to cooperate with them.

I told him that the police are welcome on my property any time, and that if the drug-dealers don’t back down I’ll allow FWPD to place cameras and officer inside my home if that would help. I closed by saying the only way things would get better is if the police would stop and talk with some of the good people down here occasionally (I mentioned other people who I felt would cooperate with FWPD), rather than just whizzing through or automatically treating everyone they encountered as if they were a drug dealer.

As Officer Marshall began to reply, he removed his sunglasses. I saw this as a positive gesture in that he was willing to at least let me look him in the eyes as he spoke. He began by telling me that his mother had lived in the central city area for many years, so he was intimately familiar with the problems here. He also told me some officers have family in this area and that there was not the type of disconnect that I had described.

He said the report might not be available if it is part of a narcotics investigation, but that he will check on it. He said that I can’t do anything about people on the sidewalk myself, but that I have to call the police for this. He reluctantly conceded that I was within my rights to address people who were on my property, but recommended against it. As Officer Marshall left, he said he’d keep in touch with me.

Friday, September 12 I was setting on Arlen’s porch in the afternoon watching several guys (Bernie, Sheldon, Nathan, and a few others) throwing a football in front of my house. They were all around seventeen years old, and they represented the current sophomore team (I’m not referring to sports) in the neighborhood. They stopped throwing and just stood on the corner for a few minutes. Then, Sheldon sat down on the edge of my front yard.

I approached him and politely asked him not to set in my yard. He apologized and quickly moved. Nathan, who I wasn’t even talking to, began to spout off about how I had no right to harass them. He was mouthing off some gibberish as they all walked away. I didn’t know it at the time, but Nathan’s house, about a block and a half away from me, was also a major drug den.

Saturday, September 13 There was quite a bit of activity in the evening. I sat on my porch watching for a few minutes, as that was usually enough to calm things down. The activities continued and I began walking the perimeter of my property several times. There was a large group standing on the corner right in front of my house. They might have the right to be on the sidewalk, but not to block others from passing through. I was testing them to see how they would respond to my interference of their activities. After several laps around the house, I stopped on the corner and just stood there with the group. No one said a word to me or acted aggressively, and after a few minutes they all left the area.

Sunday, September 14 As I left my house in the afternoon, I noticed a patrol car was parked a block south and facing my house. The officer inside appeared to be looking over some paper work. I took this as a very good sign, thinking they had finally decided to watch the area closely. A few block south of there, I encountered another patrol car driving one of the side streets. He couldn’t have been watching my house that far away, but there was certainly nothing that seemed unusual about his presence there. A few minutes later, I came to Rudisill, and yet another patrol car passed in front of me. Of course, Rudisill is a fairly well traveled road, so nothing seemed unusual about that either.

A few minutes later, I arrived at my destination at Southgate Shopping Center. As I pulled in, I noticed the number on the patrol car behind me. It was the same one that only a few minutes earlier was parked watching my house. That seemed like quite a coincidence. I was a couple miles and several turns away form where I had first encountered that cop, and here he was right behind me. I figured it was probably just a coincidence, but it still seemed a little odd. Even more strange was that this same patrol car had followed me home from my visit to Frost last Wednesday.

I arrived home around five that evening and saw five dealers standing on the porch of the abandoned house across the street from me. They were talking among themselves and pointing towards me as I walked into my house. I watched from inside for almost an hour and it was obvious that I was the topic of discussion among the group during most of this time. I assumed that word of my speaking with the police had begun circulating, and I tried to psych myself up in preparation for what might result from this.

The situation with the kids playing football that day exemplifies a big part of the problem here. Every couple years, a few new guys get old enough to start taking to the corners. As soon as I convince them that I am serious about protecting my property, a new group appears and I have to start almost from scratch with them. But even though these young guys are dealing drugs, for many of them this is a just small element of who they are. Most of them are not gang bangers. And this is the kind of thing that adds to the confusion here.

One minute they’re just kids tossing a ball, the next they’re dope selling, gun toting thugs. Those guys weren’t doing any real harm on my grass that day. But if I don’t challenge each encroachment upon my rights, soon those rights will no longer exist. If I hadn’t asked Sheldon to move, tomorrow he and ten of his friends might have been in my yard or on my porch. If they’re not selling dope, I don’t pay that much attention if they’re standing on the edge of my yard, or leaning against my fence. But if I see them selling drugs, even once, then I have to let them know they are not welcome here.

By meeting with Officer Marshall at my home, I had clearly advertised to the drug dealers my intention to cooperate with the police. Given their increased boldness though, I felt this was necessary. And given Officer Marshall’s seemingly good disposition towards me during our meeting, I had every reason to think that FWPD would act in good faith in this matter. I was willing to be patient and give the police some time to figure out how they wanted to work with me on the problems here.

I had begun to notice an increased police presence since I started talking with Officer Marshall. I saw that as a good sign, because they were responding to the needs here. But there were a few occasions where it seemed like I, rather than my neighborhood, was the target of their surveillance. Now before you call me paranoid, consider this. What if I was not the good citizen I claimed to be. What if I was selling drugs from my house, and all these guys standing on the corner were steeling my business? What if I was simply using FWPD to eliminate the competition? If the FWPD needed to analyze me, to see if I could be trusted, that was fine with me. In fact, with the suggestions I had made to Officer Marshall, if they weren’t doing this it would point to an extreme lack of intelligence.