The Years of Living Indifferently: 2004 & 2005

If you recall, I ended 2003 with the realization that not even the top ranks of FWPD had any interest in addressing the problems here. Certainly, the police did take action here, but their refusal to honestly engage those people who they were sworn to protect really meant it was nothing more than a charade. It was just something to put in their records to “prove” that they were addressing the problem. I was on my own, which necessarily tempered the way that I dealt with the drug dealing activities here. It didn’t make sense to confront these guys saying “If you don’t quiet down, I’ll call the police”, when both they and I knew this threat meant nothing. It was just me (and a few good neighbors), left to our own devices. There was no law!

Sure, I could come out and sit on my porch anytime the guys were selling drugs there, staring at them until they decided to leave, but at what price? These guys don’t have jobs. All they do is stand around here all day. Given that they had the capability for constant surveillance, it wasn’t too difficult for them to figure out my habits. It really wouldn’t be that difficult for them to have vandalized my house while I was at work, knowing exactly what time I would return home and knowing that large groups of people loitering around my home and on my property did not seem to concern the police. So I acted practically. I did what I had to do, and no more.

As I would round the corner while driving home, and see people gathering their belongings from my front yard and starting to walk away, I would actually slow down a bit. They sell drugs from my home while I’m away - that was the fact of the matter and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop them. So why get in an argument over nothing. By giving them a few extra seconds to vacate, I avoided a pointless argument with them.

Of course, they would often engage in these activities while I was at home also. All I could do then is try and watch until one of them actually stepped onto my property, then go outside and ask them to move. Of course, they usually complied, moving back to the sidewalk or the grass median. And of course, I had already been told by FWPD that I have no authority over this area, even though I am responsible for maintaining it.

I ignored them as much as I could, and confronted them only when I absolutely had to. It wasn’t so much the fear as the fatigue from knowing that even if I won an argument, it would mean nothing a few minutes later. It was like trying to hold back a flood with my bare hands. So from 2003 until early in 2006, I maintained a policy of active disengagement. I really didn’t keep a journal during this period either. The only reason I had kept notes on what was going on here was because I assumed that FWPD would be interested in this information. When that proved to not be the case, I gave up.

I have a few stories from that period to tell though. Like the early years, they are somewhat vague on the exact dates, times and other details. But they are still useful in helping to show what was going on here, and my reaction to it. Some of these events I have mentioned already in my comments here or on other blogs. I have included them now, just to put them in a chronological context.

I Didn’t See Nuthin’

I was setting on my back porch late one evening during the summer of 2004 when a man walked down the alley past one of the most active drug houses in the neighborhood. A patrol car passing by must have seen him because it stopped right in front of the house. An officer got out and followed the man around the side of the house. They circled the house three times, the officer apparently following the man. After the third time, the officer appeared, but the other man never did. I didn’t hear a gunshot, so I assume he slipped away.

As I watched what was going on, I realized that what this officer was doing was quite dangerous. He was alone there, and he had no idea who else might be inside that house or in the area. I thought about waving at the officer to get his attention and let him know what I saw. However, based upon my previous experiences, I figured that it was best to interact as little as possible with the police.

It truly is sad to think that I had gone from a person who would actively try to help the police, to one who would simply watch such an event unfold without saying a word. But this is what FWPD had told me they want from the residents here. Publicly they proclaim that they want the public’s input and they brag about their community oriented programs. But actions speak much louder than words, and their actions had clearly told me “Just shut up and stay out of our way!”

One Good Cop

I try to be fair. I believe that I only portray the police as jack-asses when they have actually acted as such. I really do like it when I see something that allows me to portray them in a positive light.

One afternoon, I heard a commotion from the east side of my house. I looked out to see an officer standing beside his car and trying to speak with two kids who were arguing with each other. They were surrounded by several other kids who all seemed to have something to say. The situation was a bit chaotic, and it was obvious that the officer was uncomfortable. I don’t think any of these kids intended their actions to be seen as hostile towards the officer, but the size and the noise of the crowd was making it seem that way. Perhaps this was a rookie officer, or maybe it was only because he was alone there that he seemed to be losing control of the situation.

At this point a second officer (Foster) arrived. The first thing he did was to remove his sunglasses as he approached the group and made his way to the other officer. After being briefed by the first officer, the other one turned to the arguing pair and said “I need to hear both of you explain this to me, but I can only listen to one at a time.” He then turned to the crowd and asked them to quiet down so he could hear these two speak.

They were arguing over a bicycle. Both agreed that “A” had originally owned the bike, and that “B” now had it in his possession. “A” claimed it was stolen, while “B” claimed it was bought. “B” further claimed that he had made improvements to the bike, so even if he returned it, “A” should still pay him back for this. After listening to both their stories, he said “If you two can’t come to an agreement on this, then I’ll have to impound the bike until one of you can prove ownership. Why don’t you talk it over and see if you can come to an agreement.” He asked the crowd to keep quiet, so he could fully understand what their friends had to say. It appeared that they came to an agreement after a few minutes of talking.

The actions of Officer Foster here impressed me for several reasons. First of all, I think he realized right off that although the crowd was very large and very noisy, they were not acting with hostility. I think this point is often missed by some officers, especially in neighborhoods such as mine where circumstances can easily bring out the passionate side of people. I think his removing his sunglasses was an instinctive response to his assessment of the situation. You keep the shades on when you are in robo-cop mode, when you intend to speak to the people present, rather than with them. It probably allowed him to be seen as less aggressive by the crowd, and helps to explain why they were receptive to what he said.

The manner in which he spoke to the crowd showed good communication skills also. The message he sent was “In order to help your friends solve the problem, I need to hear them. And in order to hear them, I need you all to keep quiet.” Rather than being order by the police to shut up, the unruly crowd was being asked to help their friends. Finally, after allowing both parties to state their case, he presented to them an obvious fact that they some how seemed to have overlooked. This little problem would end a lot better for both of you if you can find some amicable agreement between yourselves.

So basically, Officer Foster served as a mediator. He convinced the crowd that the best thing they could do for their friends would be to quiet down and let them talk it over. Then he convinced the pair that they were really their own best solution to this problem. He completely turned around a situation that appeared as though it was getting out of hand. This officer exhibited the type of tactful communication and other skills that sometimes seems to be missing by some officers. Where other officers actually aggravate the problem, Officer Foster worked to alleviate it.

Shots Fired

One afternoon during the summer of 2005, I was awoken from a daytime nap to the sound of gunshots outside. It sounded like they came from SW of my house. I went outside and observed Carl and another man running out of alley. They were running from the direction of Thomas’ house towards Carl’s. It seemed to me that there was a bit of animosity between the various members of these two drug houses, so I assumed that Carl had been the target of this shooting.

I was standing on the sidewalk, on the side of my house, when the first officer arrived on the scene. The officer parked at the entrance to the alley, jumped out of the car, and seemed to be frantically trying to decide in which direction to move. I waved to get his attention and said “Officer, it sounded like two or three shots, coming from that direction,” as I pointed. The officer moved towards me in a very aggressive manner shouting “Was it two or three shots?” I said “I don’t know, I was sleeping and it woke me up. It sounded like two or three.”

This cop just stood and stared blankly at me for a moment. It was obvious that his adrenaline was pumping hard, and I regretted opening my mouth as soon as I saw his reaction. I really need to learn to do like everyone else here does - just leave the area or go inside the house when the cops arrive. Because I was not wearing shoes or a shirt at the time, I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he just thought I was a wondering crack-head. I didn’t say anything else as he stared at me long enough to decide not to come and slam me to the ground. After he drove down the alley, I just went back inside the house. Sure, I’ll go outside when people are shooting guns here. But when the crazy cops arrive, it’s definitely time to retreat to the house.

Of course, I never did get the opportunity to tell this officer about the two men I saw running from the alley. And the police wonder why no one talks to them!

Fire One Up

Later that same summer, I heard commotion in front of my house one evening and went outside to observe. I was standing in front of my house when a man on a bicycle rode quickly past and almost hit me. He was coming from the direction of Thomas’ house, and at first glance I actually thought it was Thomas. It wasn’t him, but he looked enough like him that he had to be one of his relatives. I saw a crowd gathering in the area of Thomas’ house, so I began walking in that direction. When I saw heavy smoke coming from the area I began returning to my house to call 911, but then I heard the approaching sirens. I walked down there and saw that the house across the alley from Thomas was burning on the second floor. It appeared as though something had probably been thrown through the window from outside the house.

Since this act of arson took place directly across from Thomas’ house, and since his relative on the bicycle was quickly fleeing the area immediately after it occurred, I just assumed maybe he was connected somehow. Naturally, I approached the first officer I saw and reported what I saw. I just I told him I thought the guy on the bicycle looked like One of Thomas’ brothers (I have been told that FWPD knows everyone in this family very well). The cop just stared at me for a moment, then walked away without saying a word. I remained in the area, thinking that officer or another would want to question me, but none did.

There were several fire engines and at least ten police cars on the scene. Although it was obvious what the firemen were doing, I can’t really figure out why all the cops were there. After all, I had just told them who probably started the fire, and they just walked me off. So if they weren’t trying to solve the crime, just what the hell were they doing? Just bored I guess, or maybe the doughnut shop was closed!

Just when I think I’ve seen everything this neighborhood has to offer, something like this occurs. I just wonder, do they train these guys to act like idiots, or do they just pick those with the lowest scores on their tests to ensure that they will act like morons? A few days later, I was talking with a local landlord here about this incident. He said “The guy could have a can of gasoline in his hands, and you could have a picture of him, and they (police) still wouldn’t do anything. Most of them just don’t care.” What a sad commentary on FWPD. And Rusty York wonders why nobody talks to the cops!

Driving While Armed

I have mentioned this story previously on some of my comments here and on others blogs. I think it was sometime during the summer or fall of 2005. Although this did not occur near my home, it was in a similar type of neighborhood. I’ll just give a brief review of what happened, because it relates to my next story.

I was driving along the street one night when saw a police car parked on the side of the road. There were two officers inside, and no lights were on. As I said, this neighborhood is similar to my own, so it did not surprise me to see a cop just parked and watching the area. I slowed down a bit as I approached the police car, and the driver did something very strange just as I was passing him. He shined his million megawatt spotlight right in my face. What an asshole!

I stopped my car and began backing up to ask the officer what the fuck his problem was (of course I planned to frame the question more tactfully than that). Then I decide this was probably not a good idea, so I just drove forward again. The prick did a u-turn and pulled me over then. He asked why I backed up on him and I answered that I was going to come back and ask why he tried to blind me with his light. He gave some lame-ass excuse about looking at a couple of guys who were walking on the sidewalk (I guess he was concentrating so hard on them that he just failed to notice the car right in front of his face!), then he accused me of being high.

After a few minutes of jerking off back in his car, he realized he had nothing on me. But as he was about to let me leave, for some strange reason he turned and asked if I had a gun in my car. Well, there’s no reason to lie, especially when I hadn’t done anything wrong. I told him that I had a gun, and offered to show him my permit to carry it. Instead, he entered and searched my car without my permission. He stated that since I had declared I was carrying a gun, then he had the right to examine it. What a prick! He had no business asking this question in the first place.

As he was about to leave the second time he turned and asked me if I had any drugs in my car. I thought about saying “Gee, don’t you think you would have found them when you just searched my car?” Instead, I just replied with a smirk “Nope, no drugs, just me and my gun.” Well, he didn’t shoot me or even drag me out of the car and beat me, but I’m certain I did not make a new friend that night.

The Keystone Cops

A couple nights after the event just mentioned above I had just arrived here when a patrol car passed slowly in front of my house. He was traveling the wrong direction on a one way street, and his headlights were off. I was getting some things out of my car when a second patrol car passed by in the same manner as the first one. I then noticed a third patrol car approaching very slowly from the south. It was starting to appear as though I was the subject of their adoration. I wondered if maybe this was the same cop from the previous night. Maybe he had so much fun the night before that he decided to just drop by and ask me again if I had a gun or drugs. Not wanting to beat around the bush, I turned and waved at this officer as he slowly passed by.

During the next few minutes I saw at least one other patrol car and two unmarked police vehicles pass by. I walked to my front yard and just watched as they slowly canvassed the area. Since none of them had stopped yet, I was beginning to assume they were there for some other reason. As I stood in the front yard, I looked to the south and saw a car slowly edging out of the alley with it’s headlights off. Naturally I assumed it was another police vehicle.

Suddenly this car shot out of the alley, heading north, then turned west in front of my house and sped away. The driver looked to be about eighteen years old, so I really don’t think he was a cop. Suddenly, police cars came roaring to the corner and turned in every direction except - you guessed it, west! I could not believe this. Most likely, this car was who they had been searching for and not one of those six or more cops managed to follow him away from there. I was standing just a few feet from the intersection as they passed by. I could see their faces, so it is difficult to imagine that they didn’t see me standing there.

Now under normal circumstances, you might expect a person who had just witnessed such an event to wave at one of these officers and point them in the right direction. But this neighborhood ain’t normal, and neither is this police force. Therefore I simply stood and watched as several police cars continued driving past my house, apparently looking for someone who had already left the area.

As I stood there laughing about the situation, wondering how so many individual officers could be that stupid at once, a thought occurred to me. Perhaps this event was staged and intended to test me. For years the police keep telling me to just shut up, but I still insisted on bothering them with such trifling information as who is shooting people and who is trying to burn houses down. But here I finally proved myself. I could have easily gotten their attention. I could have described the car, the driver, and which direction he headed in. But if I continued pestering them with useful information such as this, then they could not continue to proclaim that the reason crime is rampant here is because nobody will cooperate with the police.

By actually trying to engage them, I was taking away FWPD’s favorite lame excuse. And without this crutch to lean on, it would become apparent just how feeble they really were. By trying to be a part of the solution (talking with them), I was actually a part of the problem (creating the expectation that they would actually do something with this information). So, using this backward logic, the way to get on FWPD’s good side is to become a part of the problem. By just watching without saying anything, I had become one of “those” people the ones who never speak with the police. And the police just love us, because we are the excuse that allows them to constantly underperform.

The Alley is not a Throughway!

I used to have a favorite way of driving home from the west side of town. I would get on Taylor Street from Jefferson and continue east. Just after crossing Fairfield, Taylor street dumps into Williams Street. A half-mile further east, Williams Street ends at Lafayette Street. But it really ends there in name only, because an alley extends forward from right in front of it. And if you take this alley another block east, it dumps you out on Warsaw Street, only a few blocks north of my home. So there you have it, virtually a straight line from west Jefferson to my front door. Who wouldn’t love this? Well, the police of course.

I was driving this route home one night late in 2005. Just as I was about to exit the alley, a patrol car passed in front of me. He slowed to the point that he nearly stopped, and I was pretty certain he was checking me out in the process. As I began driving towards my house, this cop circled the block and came up behind to pull me over. After checking my documents, the reason he stated for pulling me over was “I had seen you driving through the alley.” I told him I know what goes on in this neighborhood, so I understood his suspicions. I then asked if it was actually illegal to drive through the alley or just suspicious because of the activities in this area.

The officer's response was “It is a violation of Indiana Code to use an alley as a throughway.” I asked the officer exactly what that meant and he explained “Unless you live there or you are visiting someone who lives on that alley, then you are not supposed to be driving through it.” I actually had no idea that was the way the law worked on this matter, and I am certain I never would have found this out if it had been most any other area of town that I was driving in.

Now don’t get me wrong. I had no problem with this cop stopping me. He was quick, he was polite, and he was enforcing the law. And I actually don’t have a problem with this law or it’s geographically selective enforcement. Any person who spends much time in this neighborhood knows of the heavy drug activities here. And a lot of the traffic related to this does pass through the alleys. I see this as a useful tool to help the police shake up the crack-heads. And if I have to waste a few minutes with this type of B.S. once in a while, then that is a price I am willing to pay to help keep things a little more orderly here.

What I do wonder though is why the police are so lax on other B.S. laws here. There are many other laws that are usually not strictly enforced, but I think should be applied more stringently here. Let’s see, jay-walking, littering, noise pollution, trespassing on other people’s property. Oh yeah, there is that one little law about standing on the corner selling crack cocaine that so often seems to be overlooked here. I don’t know, call me crazy, but if the police are going to stop me for driving through an alley, then I think they should stop these guys from selling drugs from my property or on the sidewalk in front of my home also.