One Crazy Night in Crack-Town: September 2003 - Part III

Monday, September 15 It was about ten in the evening when I glanced out my back window and saw two men standing in my backyard who appeared to be conducting a drug transaction. I opened the door, shined my flashlight on them and asked “What the fuck are you doing in my yard?” One fled to the empty lot behind, and the other quickly went to the sidewalk and headed around front. I gave it little thought as I followed him and again questioned why he was in my yard. He was saying, apologetically, “I didn’t know anyone lived here. I didn’t mean no harm.” As my front yard came in sight I saw something totally unexpected. There were ten to twelve dealers (all wearing their standard uniform of a white t-shirt) standing in my front yard.

I suppose there might have been a slight pause as I considered whether to move forward or fall back, but it was only a fraction of a second before I found myself moving into their midst and shouting “You need to get the fuck out of my yard. This is my property and I don’t want your shit down here. Get the fuck away from my house.” The entire group quickly moved across the street and I just stood there alone.

As I sat down on my front porch steps and began to calm down, the seriousness of the situation began to dawn on me. Here I was, setting on my front steps dressed in sweatpants a t-shirt and no shoes. My front door was locked, my back door was wide open, and I was armed only with an 18” mag-light (not an unsubstantial weapon in some circumstances.) The guys across the street were beginning to laugh now as they realized the ridiculousness of the situation. I knew at that point that if I remained overly assertive, that could provoke them into action. I also figured that walking away too quickly might produce the same effect.

So I just sat there on the steps or paced about my front yard for about five minutes. I didn’t stare at the group, nor did I turn my back on them. I did the only thing a person could do in such a situation. I simply stood and held my ground. Anything more (such as continuing to yell at them after they had crossed the street) would have been too aggressive. Anything less (walking away too quickly) would have indicated weakness. I knew that if this group decided to approach me that it was destined to end badly. After a few minutes, some of them began to walk away, and the ones that remained relaxed their stares and quit talking about me. I turned and walked back inside my house. I didn’t bother calling FWPD because they would have considered it a non-issue at that point because no one was on my property.

Tuesday, September 16 I called Officer Marshall in the morning and left a message briefly explaining last night’s incident. I also typed a letter that day for Marshall and delivered it to The FWPD front desk that evening.

Thursday, September 18 (3:00 A.M.) I was coming home around three in the morning and I saw an unmarked police car parked in the alley behind my house. As I was walking towards the house, the police car pulled out of the alley and slowly headed towards my house. He stopped at the intersection for a moment, then suddenly bolted away. He appeared to be chasing a car that had just cleared the intersection a block away. He circled the block and came back past my house, and headed off to the north again. I heard sirens in the distance a few minutes later, but saw no more activity in the area.

(9:00 A.M.) Parking enforcement had the abandoned car across the street towed away.

(9:30 A.M.) I was setting on my front porch and three men gathered on the corner and kept glancing towards me. One of them approached and offered to sell me tools and an alarm clock that he had. I recognized him as one of the men in my back yard the other night. I told him my name and that I owned and lived in the house, and that is why I was raising hell about what was going on. He introduced himself as Spencer and apologized, saying he thought it was an empty house. I told him that I’m not looking for trouble, but that people need to stay off my property. He said he understood.

(1:00 P.M.) I called Officer Marshall and left a message asking if he had received my letter and if he was still considering my request for the incident report from last week.

Friday, September 19 (9:30 A.M.) Officer Marshall left a phone message saying “I received your letter. Thank you, you said some very nice things. Obviously you put some thought into the letter and I will get back to you, probably next Monday. I am considering your request for the report and I’ll let you know.”

When I think back on what happened that night, I’m still surprised that the dealers didn’t shoot or kick the crap out of me. I know that I felt very threatened at that moment, and if any one of them had chosen to cross the street, I would have felt that my life was in imminent danger. Who knows, maybe they thought I had a gun hidden on me, or maybe they could just read my face and decided it wouldn’t be worth it.

As for what I did, I still don’t know whether brave or stupid best describes my actions. It’s not like I conscientiously chose to put myself in that situation, it just sort of happened. My remaining out front for a while might sound like bravery, but perhaps it was actually fear (of provoking a reaction from them) that kept me from retreating.

My call to Officer Marshall the next day was polite, but I think my adrenaline was still pumping and I probably sounded somewhat incoherent. Although the letter was lengthy, I felt it was necessary in order to explain the situation beyond what a short conversation would allow for.