Let There Be Light: October 2003 - Part III

Thursday, October 16 Up to this point, I had not done much work on the outside of my house. I had moved and replaced some doors and windows, but just left them rough framed on the outside. There was no outdoor lighting, and my yard was not fenced in at all. Given that my house looked like an abandoned property, I suspected this might have been a part of the problem. I wasn’t ready to do the wiring for the permanent outside lights yet, so I picked up a string of outdoor lights at the hardware store. It was a hundred feet long, and had a bulb every ten feet. I planned to run it around the perimeter of the house. I spoke with a few of my closest neighbors first, to make sure they would not see this as too obnoxious. They all agreed that it was a good idea.

I also spoke with Abby about her son Bernie. I rehashed all the trouble that I knew he was getting into, adding that there was probably much more. I told Abby that I was going to seek a restraining order against Bernie, to keep him from standing near my house. I assumed the fact that he had hid a gun in my front yard, in addition to other circumstantial evidence would be adequate for this. I explained that I thought Bernie was heading for a lot of trouble and that I thought this might serve as a useful lesson for him. Abby agreed, and said she would support me in getting the restraining order.

I called Officer Bayard and left a message. I explained why I wanted to get a restraining order against Bernie and that I had his own mother’s support for this. I told him it would be useful to have a copy of the incident report for this, then asked that if he was still unable to release this if he would he help me to obtain the restraining order. Officer Bayard never returned my message.

That’s some fine example of community policing. I had stuck my neck out to let the drug dealers know that I wasn’t afraid of them. I had practically gone as far as putting a FWPD emblem on the side of my house in my attempts to communicate with the police. And now, I had spoken with the mother of one of the juvenile dealers and had garnered her support in asking the law to come down on her own son.

I had done all the work already. All I needed was a copy of that report, or a cop that would verify my account before a judge, and I could probably have sent a very loud and effective message to all the dealers here by using Bernie as an example. And FWPD’s response to all this? - absolutely nothing, not even a returned phone call.

Friday, October 17 My brother came up and we spent the day fencing in the back yard and installing the lights. There was a lot of drug activity all day long and some of the dealers were behaving a bit aggressively. At one point I needed to run to Lowe’s to get more supplies. We had too many tools out to take the time putting them up, and we were also pouring concrete. My brother didn’t know his way around Fort Wayne at all, so he insisted on staying to work the cement and watch the tools.

Given the current mood of the neighborhood, I was not at all comfortable with this. He has a wife and kid, and he is not used to the provocative acts that the dealers frequently engage in. He’s older than me though, so I couldn’t argue with him. Instead, I went over and knocked on Arlen’s door. I told him the situation and asked if he would keep an eye on things until I got back.

Arlen immediately walked over to the side of the house and I introduced him to my brother. When I returned a half hour later, Arlen was standing in that same exact spot next to my brother. There aren’t many people I’d trust with my truck or my tools, and even fewer with my guns. But here, I had trusted Arlen to watch my own brother's back, and had no reservations about doing so. I guess this could be seen as further evidence of what a great guy Arlen is, or maybe I just don’t like my brother.

I had been given a contact number for Jason, who worked for the Mayor’s office. I don’t recall for certain who gave me the name, bit it was likely Vic from Frost. After my brother had left, I called Jason and explained the problems I was having, both with the dealers and with the police. His first suggestion was that I should join him in a neighborhood walk “stomp out crime” type of event he was hosting. It wasn’t in my neighborhood, and the only way that would effect these guys would be if the marchers carried guns or badges, so I thought to myself that it would be a waste of time.

Jason then suggested that I attend my own neighborhood association meeting. I had attended sporadically before, but it didn’t really seem like an effective tool for helping me with my problems. He really got my attention though when he said that a FWPD officer would be present that night. I told him that I hoped it would be an officer who actually patrols this area, rather than a desk-sitter, and he said he’d see what he could do.

After that, I called Officer Webster and left a message. I reminded him who I was from Wednesday night’s event. I told him about the upcoming neighborhood meeting, and said that he was the type of officer that I would like to set down and speak with in depth about the problems in my neighborhood. I thanked him again for his help so far, and asked if he would come to the meeting if at all possible. I went to sleep early that evening, and the neighborhood was still very active.

Saturday, October 18 (Midnight to 4:00 A.M.) After a few hours of rest, I woke up around midnight. There were still several people standing on the corners so I got dressed and went outside. I stood on the sidewalk in front of my house with two items hidden in my coat pocket. I’m sure you can guess what the first one was. The second was a small remote control device that allowed me to turn on my newly installed outdoor lights. As I clicked the button, lighting up the corner like a bright star, the people standing on the corners began looking around strangely - at the house, at each other, and even up in the sky.

They knew something had happened, they just couldn’t quite figure out what it was. I guess that’s what being high on crack will do to your mind. I mocked their reaction, acting as though I had no clue what was going on either. I stayed outside all night (actually, early morning) alternating between setting on my porch, standing on the corner, and walking around the property. A couple times I even placed my chair on the sidewalk and sat there for a while. If the drug dealers can do this, then I sure the hell can - in front of my own house.

Two different times, someone approached me while I was standing on the corner and wanted to buy drugs. I just told them there were no drugs for sale here, and that they should find somewhere else to hang out. If someone stood on the corner while I was in the yard, I just walked over and stood next to them until they left. Sometimes I’d hide out of site and play with the lights just for fun.

Two patrol cars began driving the area. I was standing on the corner as they slowly passed and checked me out. I actually locked eyes with one of the officers for a few seconds, and I am really surprised that did not cause them to stop and question me. I still wonder about their presence there. Perhaps it was just a random patrol, or maybe a neighbor had called because of the flashing lights. Who knows, maybe one of the dealers had called “his” cop to complain about the new guy standing on the corner.

(10:00 A.M.) I woke up and looked to see Bernie and three other guys standing on the corner in front of my house. I went out and stood beside them without saying a word. After a few minutes, they walked across the street to the corner with the empty lot. I followed and turned my back on them to look towards Carl’s drug house a half block away. Several people were standing there, and I locked eyes with one of them for a few minutes. Bernie and his friends crossed the street again, this time landing on the corner in front of his own house. I decided not to follow. I remained standing on the corner for about ten minutes, as both the drug house and the sidewalks began to clear. There was not a single person in sight as I walked back to my house. I had definitely sent a message, I just wasn’t quite sure what it was.

(11:45 A.M.) I called Frost to update Vic on the situation. He agreed that things sounded strange with FWPD, adding he had not heard back from anyone yet on his inquiries. He said he might attend my neighborhood association meeting that was coming up soon.

(7:00 P.M.) I saw a suspicious car at Carl’s drug house for the second time today. I called FWPD to report it. I don’t recall if they sent anyone out for it.

Sunday, October 19 I called Officer Marshall and left a message reminding him of the two issues he had promised to look into for me and mentioned that I had been waiting for a month now to hear back from him. I said I assumed that he had just gotten busy, but wanted to make sure he hadn’t forgotten about me. I closed by saying that if I did not hear back from him this time, I would have to assume that simply meant he did not want to engage me in this matter.