Sunday, October 19, 2008
Taking A Break
Due to personal reasons which have nothing to do with the events in this neighborhood, I will be taking a two week break from blogging. My next post will be on Monday, November 3, 2008.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Weekend Report
CORRECTION: In the below story, I referred to the person who was recently arrested as being Max's cousin. I now believe that this is incorrect and the two are probably not even related. My mistake was initiated by bad reading on my part (I mistakenly thought the two had the same last name), and was further supported by what turned out to be bad intelligence from my contacts in this neighborhood.
For this story which I am about to write, it probably won’t be difficult for many people to figure out the real name(s) of some of the people involved. And that is your prerogative to do so. But I will be keeping with protocol here and using pseudonyms. I ask that any readers do the same with their comments.
__________________________________
Late last week, I was reading another local blog when I saw a name that I recognized. Apparently the police had conducted two SWAT raids on two different homes and during two different days. They were specifically looking for a person who they think may have been responsible for at least one recent drive-by shooting of a home. They had a warrant for this person’s arrest, but they were also “interested” in locating a relative of his to ask him a few questions.
The other person is who I have referred to here previously as Max. Max was arrested (and later convicted) a couple years ago for selling drugs in my neighborhood. His cousin Sheldon was also arrested at that same time. Max has recently engaged in cross-alley shootings with one of his associates. This happened at least two different days and both times it occurred right behind my house.
Max is also the person who was arguing so loudly with his own mother one afternoon (concerning his dangerous lifestyle) that the police were called to the area to check on a disturbance. When the police arrived, no one was left on the corner except for Max and his associate. They both told the officer there had been no disturbance and the officer then went on his merry little way.
Now, having said all this, I want to also add that Max and his cousin Sheldon are not altogether bad guys - at least not as far as they relate to me. I say this mostly because while they both used to be a magnet for bringing disquiet to my home, they are now more likely to be seen as calming things down. Don’t get me wrong, they both appear to be selling drugs quite regularly, they just do it far less obnoxiously then they used to and they actually discourage others from acting too obnoxiously. So as far as having drug dealers for neighbors is concerned, I guess I could do a lot worse than these two.
But there is another side to Max besides being a drug dealer. I am friends with Max’s uncle (even took a trip to Toronto once with him) and I have been inside his grandmother’s house on at least a few occasions. The first time was when my friend (Max’s uncle) asked me to come over and fix his mother’s leaky water faucet, and the most recent was when I went over to speak with Max’s grandmother about the problems here (some of which were being caused by Sheldon and Max).
I have also known Max for over ten years and Sheldon for about four. I met Max when he was either in his very early teens or perhaps even a pre-teen. When he was younger, I’m pretty sure he was among the kids that I would sometimes pay to help me do yard work. Over the years, I have had several meaningful conversations with him about a variety of topics. And judging by the amount of care and attention he gives to his infant daughter when he is walking her around the neighborhood, I would say that he is a good father.
I wanted to put all this out there for two reasons. First, as I have repeatedly tried to do throughout my blog, I am attempting to show that things here are usually a bit more complex than a short newspaper article might indicate. I would expect that most people reading that article would be surprised to hear me say that this person (a drug dealer and perhaps a co-conspirator in the drive-by shooting) is a good father and a decent person in other respects.
The second reason is I wanted you to have some idea of the complex relationships that I share with many of my neighbors here. I have said before that I do not totally shun someone here just because they, or a family member, is involved in the drug trade. My complete reasoning for this is a bit complex, but it should suffice to simply say that maintaining a certain level of dialogue with everyone here has benefited me many times.
So, getting back to that other blogger (and I’m sure most of you know who I’m talking about - right?) His story about the police raids were pretty descriptive, and in fact I thought he was merely summarizing what he had read in a newspaper article. I had no reason to suspect that this information was confidential, so when I happened to see Sheldon a day or two later, I mentioned this to him.
He was walking past and stopped to talk about the tree I was cutting down. As we chatted, I just innocently threw out “I see the police are looking for your cousin.” He seemed perplexed, so I said “Max, the police are looking for Max, right?” Apparently this was news to him, and he quickly rushed off towards his grandmother’s house (presumably to notify Max.)
This bothered me a bit, and I began to wonder where that other blogger had gotten his information. I went online to check out the local newspaper’s recent stories and they oddly left out Max’s name, although it did say that FWPD was looking for an unnamed relative of the guy they had just captured. At this point, I had a hunch as to the source of this information. So I called my friend (the other blogger I’m talking about) and confirmed that he had in fact gotten his information directly from the FWPD scanner.
Later that afternoon, Officer Rice and another officer passed by my house. I really would have liked to talk with one of them for a moment. I just thought it would be a good idea to make them aware that their secret was out, that Max knew he was being sought. But both whizzed by quickly and the opportunity was lost.
For a fleeting moment, I considered calling the FWPD front desk. But I realized that if those fools can’t even communicate a simple message from me to an officer presently on the scene about something, then they probably wouldn’t know what to do with this information. Hell, they’d probably think I was reporting that Max was here now and send a shitload of cars out for nothing.
Finally, about three nights later, I happened to run into an officer that I knew. I started out by simply saying “I heard that you guys are looking for Max.” To which Officer Clayton responded “He actually walked into the police station on Saturday and turned himself in. He really wasn’t wanted so much as we just wanted to question him.” Ironically, Saturday was the same day that I had mentioned to Sheldon that the police were looking for Max, so I can’t help but wonder if that is why he walked in.
Officer Clayton said that they simply questioned Max and let him go, so I shouldn’t be shocked if I saw him back on the block. Of course, a day or two later I read in the newspaper that Max had actually been arrested at the time, but that he was just released on bail. According to the article, FWPD believes that Max was driving the car when his cousin shot at the house. I have seen Max a couple times in the past few days, but he seems to be sticking close to his house.
I just wanted to close this by talking about Officer Clayton for a minute. Officer Clayton is a member of the FWPD Command Staff. You might recall that on at least one occasion I have said something to the effect of “Evidence proves that every member of the Command staff is either an idiot, a coward, or a criminal.” Now I don’t have any evidence to suggest that Officer Clayton actually reads my blog, but I know at least one of the officers in my neighborhood reads it, so I expect there are others.
Anyway, regardless of whether Officer Clayton has read my exact quotes, I think it is almost certain that he realizes that I am writing a critical appraisal of FWPD’s activities. With this in mind, I was actually a bit hesitant to approach him at first. I would have expected to be ignored at best. But he not only listened to what I had to say, but briefly engaged me in casual conversation afterwards. Officer Clayton seems like a genuinely decent guy, and I think the fact that he could maintain a professional and polite demeanor while talking with me supports this belief.
And so, I’ll close this post in a similar fashion to how it was opened. While at the beginning, I was actually urging my readers to broaden their minds a bit when reading about the drug dealers here. They are criminals, there is no mistake about that, and some of them do a lot of bad things. But that is just one side of the coin. They’re people, and like all people they are complex creatures. To simply think of someone as entirely evil or to assume you understand every detail of their lives, all from reading only a few lines in the paper, will most likely lead to an inaccurate assessment.
Perhaps my recent interaction with Officer Clayton was a reminder that the same rule applies to the police as well. I have certainly seen enough from this department to seriously call into question just what in the hell is going on there, but for me (or anyone else) to assume that my few little snapshots of activity here could really tell the whole story is not correct. I am certain that there is an extremely wide range of intelligence, professionalism, and other attributes among the various members of FWPD, and I am sure that this same rule applies to their Command Staff. And while I will stick by my assessment of FWPD as being correct in a general manner, I am quite certain that I have misunderstood or misstated quite a few of the details.
For this story which I am about to write, it probably won’t be difficult for many people to figure out the real name(s) of some of the people involved. And that is your prerogative to do so. But I will be keeping with protocol here and using pseudonyms. I ask that any readers do the same with their comments.
__________________________________
Late last week, I was reading another local blog when I saw a name that I recognized. Apparently the police had conducted two SWAT raids on two different homes and during two different days. They were specifically looking for a person who they think may have been responsible for at least one recent drive-by shooting of a home. They had a warrant for this person’s arrest, but they were also “interested” in locating a relative of his to ask him a few questions.
The other person is who I have referred to here previously as Max. Max was arrested (and later convicted) a couple years ago for selling drugs in my neighborhood. His cousin Sheldon was also arrested at that same time. Max has recently engaged in cross-alley shootings with one of his associates. This happened at least two different days and both times it occurred right behind my house.
Max is also the person who was arguing so loudly with his own mother one afternoon (concerning his dangerous lifestyle) that the police were called to the area to check on a disturbance. When the police arrived, no one was left on the corner except for Max and his associate. They both told the officer there had been no disturbance and the officer then went on his merry little way.
Now, having said all this, I want to also add that Max and his cousin Sheldon are not altogether bad guys - at least not as far as they relate to me. I say this mostly because while they both used to be a magnet for bringing disquiet to my home, they are now more likely to be seen as calming things down. Don’t get me wrong, they both appear to be selling drugs quite regularly, they just do it far less obnoxiously then they used to and they actually discourage others from acting too obnoxiously. So as far as having drug dealers for neighbors is concerned, I guess I could do a lot worse than these two.
But there is another side to Max besides being a drug dealer. I am friends with Max’s uncle (even took a trip to Toronto once with him) and I have been inside his grandmother’s house on at least a few occasions. The first time was when my friend (Max’s uncle) asked me to come over and fix his mother’s leaky water faucet, and the most recent was when I went over to speak with Max’s grandmother about the problems here (some of which were being caused by Sheldon and Max).
I have also known Max for over ten years and Sheldon for about four. I met Max when he was either in his very early teens or perhaps even a pre-teen. When he was younger, I’m pretty sure he was among the kids that I would sometimes pay to help me do yard work. Over the years, I have had several meaningful conversations with him about a variety of topics. And judging by the amount of care and attention he gives to his infant daughter when he is walking her around the neighborhood, I would say that he is a good father.
I wanted to put all this out there for two reasons. First, as I have repeatedly tried to do throughout my blog, I am attempting to show that things here are usually a bit more complex than a short newspaper article might indicate. I would expect that most people reading that article would be surprised to hear me say that this person (a drug dealer and perhaps a co-conspirator in the drive-by shooting) is a good father and a decent person in other respects.
The second reason is I wanted you to have some idea of the complex relationships that I share with many of my neighbors here. I have said before that I do not totally shun someone here just because they, or a family member, is involved in the drug trade. My complete reasoning for this is a bit complex, but it should suffice to simply say that maintaining a certain level of dialogue with everyone here has benefited me many times.
So, getting back to that other blogger (and I’m sure most of you know who I’m talking about - right?) His story about the police raids were pretty descriptive, and in fact I thought he was merely summarizing what he had read in a newspaper article. I had no reason to suspect that this information was confidential, so when I happened to see Sheldon a day or two later, I mentioned this to him.
He was walking past and stopped to talk about the tree I was cutting down. As we chatted, I just innocently threw out “I see the police are looking for your cousin.” He seemed perplexed, so I said “Max, the police are looking for Max, right?” Apparently this was news to him, and he quickly rushed off towards his grandmother’s house (presumably to notify Max.)
This bothered me a bit, and I began to wonder where that other blogger had gotten his information. I went online to check out the local newspaper’s recent stories and they oddly left out Max’s name, although it did say that FWPD was looking for an unnamed relative of the guy they had just captured. At this point, I had a hunch as to the source of this information. So I called my friend (the other blogger I’m talking about) and confirmed that he had in fact gotten his information directly from the FWPD scanner.
Later that afternoon, Officer Rice and another officer passed by my house. I really would have liked to talk with one of them for a moment. I just thought it would be a good idea to make them aware that their secret was out, that Max knew he was being sought. But both whizzed by quickly and the opportunity was lost.
For a fleeting moment, I considered calling the FWPD front desk. But I realized that if those fools can’t even communicate a simple message from me to an officer presently on the scene about something, then they probably wouldn’t know what to do with this information. Hell, they’d probably think I was reporting that Max was here now and send a shitload of cars out for nothing.
Finally, about three nights later, I happened to run into an officer that I knew. I started out by simply saying “I heard that you guys are looking for Max.” To which Officer Clayton responded “He actually walked into the police station on Saturday and turned himself in. He really wasn’t wanted so much as we just wanted to question him.” Ironically, Saturday was the same day that I had mentioned to Sheldon that the police were looking for Max, so I can’t help but wonder if that is why he walked in.
Officer Clayton said that they simply questioned Max and let him go, so I shouldn’t be shocked if I saw him back on the block. Of course, a day or two later I read in the newspaper that Max had actually been arrested at the time, but that he was just released on bail. According to the article, FWPD believes that Max was driving the car when his cousin shot at the house. I have seen Max a couple times in the past few days, but he seems to be sticking close to his house.
I just wanted to close this by talking about Officer Clayton for a minute. Officer Clayton is a member of the FWPD Command Staff. You might recall that on at least one occasion I have said something to the effect of “Evidence proves that every member of the Command staff is either an idiot, a coward, or a criminal.” Now I don’t have any evidence to suggest that Officer Clayton actually reads my blog, but I know at least one of the officers in my neighborhood reads it, so I expect there are others.
Anyway, regardless of whether Officer Clayton has read my exact quotes, I think it is almost certain that he realizes that I am writing a critical appraisal of FWPD’s activities. With this in mind, I was actually a bit hesitant to approach him at first. I would have expected to be ignored at best. But he not only listened to what I had to say, but briefly engaged me in casual conversation afterwards. Officer Clayton seems like a genuinely decent guy, and I think the fact that he could maintain a professional and polite demeanor while talking with me supports this belief.
And so, I’ll close this post in a similar fashion to how it was opened. While at the beginning, I was actually urging my readers to broaden their minds a bit when reading about the drug dealers here. They are criminals, there is no mistake about that, and some of them do a lot of bad things. But that is just one side of the coin. They’re people, and like all people they are complex creatures. To simply think of someone as entirely evil or to assume you understand every detail of their lives, all from reading only a few lines in the paper, will most likely lead to an inaccurate assessment.
Perhaps my recent interaction with Officer Clayton was a reminder that the same rule applies to the police as well. I have certainly seen enough from this department to seriously call into question just what in the hell is going on there, but for me (or anyone else) to assume that my few little snapshots of activity here could really tell the whole story is not correct. I am certain that there is an extremely wide range of intelligence, professionalism, and other attributes among the various members of FWPD, and I am sure that this same rule applies to their Command Staff. And while I will stick by my assessment of FWPD as being correct in a general manner, I am quite certain that I have misunderstood or misstated quite a few of the details.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Please Arrest Me: November 4, 2006
Here’s another story that is just too funny not to tell. But it conveys a couple of serious points as well. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when I stepped out my front door to see three squad cars parked in the intersection. Three officers were standing on the corner speaking with Lucy. Apparently she had rode her bicycle right in front of one of the officers as he was driving along, and they stopped to question her about it.
From the time I came out, it appeared to me that Lucy was acting very belligerent, while the officers were simply trying to calm her down and ask a few questions. It appeared to me that she was very high, but my subsequent observations of her lead me to believe that she always acts that way. In fact, even when she is befriending someone, she sounds hostile towards them. But it was apparent this time that she was pissed about being stopped by the police, and was intent on letting them know this.
Arlen had stepped out of his house to see what was going on, so I walked over to talk with him. At this point, Lucy still had not been arrested, but it was looking like that was the direction things were heading in. Arlen said that Lucy was a relative of his, and he wanted to put her bike in his back yard for safe keeping. He wanted to ask the police if this was okay, but he was afraid they would get mad at him interfering. He had been drinking, and the smell of whiskey was on his breathe. He figured the police could use this as an excuse to arrest him, so he stayed in his own yard.
I happened to know two of the three officers who were present that day. One was Officer Rogers. He was the one who accosted me as I was going to get in my truck earlier in the year and insinuated that the drug activities here were my fault. He was certainly no friend of mine. But Officer Powell was also on hand. He was the one who came out for the bag of pot on my front steps. Although his suggestion to get a no-trespass order from FWPD turned out to be not very useful, this was no fault of his. It was obvious to me from the way he dealt with things that day that he at least gave a damn.
By now, they were handcuffing Lucy, so I decided to convey Arlen’s thoughts to the officers. I approached the trio, remembering full well the time I did this several years ago with another group of officers ago and was nearly arrested for it. I called to Officer Powell by name and told him my neighbor wanted to know if he could take possession of the bike. The third officer, Eagleburger, then turned to me and said “Well, she’s not being very cooperative. I really don’t know if I want to help her out.” He was frustrated and angry, but it seemed directed at Lucy, rather than at me.
I responded to Officer Eagleburger that I could see she was making a lot of noise, and I didn’t blame them for arresting her. But I suggested that giving the bike to Arlen would save them some trouble as well, by not having to take it to the police station. He said he’d think about it, then turned back towards Lucy. A minute later, Officer Powell wheeled the bike over to Arlen. The officers began searching Lucy and pulled a 14’ fillet knife from her pants. They discussed the matter for a minute, then Officer Rogers walked over to Arlen to offer him the knife as well. This is the part that was really funny, and you would actually have to see it to get the full impact.
First of all, the way Officer Rogers was carrying the knife was interesting in itself. He was holding it as one would hold a dirty sock - the edge of the finger tips barely gripping it , and a dour look on his face. Arlen had been joined by his wife Dolley at this point, and their reaction was even more hilarious than Officer Powell’s behavior. As the officer offered the knife to them, they both jumped back and said in unison “Oh no, we don’t want that!” Officer Powell got a confused look on his face, as he just didn’t seem to understand why they would offer to take charge of a bike, but not a deadly weapon.
Anyway, I thought this episode illustrated several important points. First, Arlen had done nothing wrong. Although he had been drinking, it was inside his house. Yet he was afraid to even speak to these officers for fear that he would be arrested. And I had learned two important things about the police that day. First, if you happen to know the officer by name, it is more likely that he will speak to you rather than shout at you to just shut up. But I also saw another example of an officer showing that he gave a damn. There was no need to take Lucy’s bike in because getting arrested would be enough punishment for her rude behavior. But offering the bike to Arlen was a show of goodwill towards him (and perhaps myself), not necessarily towards Lucy.
The final lesson I learned that day is one I really wish that I could share with those officers and the rest of FWPD. At the beginning of this, as I stood there with Arlen watching the police argue with Lucy, he was mumbling under his breathe about how they were just harassing her. By the time they left though, he was praising them for doing a good job. I know the fact that Lucy just wouldn’t shut the hell up helped him to realize that the police were right in arresting her. But I expect their being responsive to his offer to take the bike helped sway his opinion also.
Overall, I guess the lessons learned that day were that not all cops are pricks and not all the people who live here are assholes. Both Arlen and I saw proof of the former, but I’m not sure how aware those officers were of the latter. I really would like to tell them about this story (and many others like it) and how their own positive behavior affected a positive change in Arlen’s attitude. But such communication between FWPD and the citizens they supposedly serve does not exist - because FWPD will not allow it.
And this is what is so frustrating about my entire position regarding FWPD. They have shut me (and many others) out probably based upon the false assumption that all we want to do is bitch and cause problems for them. But that is only one side of the coin. I also have a lot of useful things to say about what they are doing right. If there was anybody who runs that department that didn’t have their head shoved entirely up their ass, they would see that listening to me could actually be quite beneficial to them.
Intelligent people should always seek to understand themselves, and doing so usually leads to enhanced performance. Intelligent people understand that no matter how smart they (think they) are, they can always learn something useful by studying another’s perspective. And intelligent people realize that when other people who observe them give an appraisal of their behavior, whether critical or complimentary, this can lead to a better understanding of oneself. But as I said before, it appears that a lack of intelligence is required to move up the ranks at FWPD.
From the time I came out, it appeared to me that Lucy was acting very belligerent, while the officers were simply trying to calm her down and ask a few questions. It appeared to me that she was very high, but my subsequent observations of her lead me to believe that she always acts that way. In fact, even when she is befriending someone, she sounds hostile towards them. But it was apparent this time that she was pissed about being stopped by the police, and was intent on letting them know this.
Arlen had stepped out of his house to see what was going on, so I walked over to talk with him. At this point, Lucy still had not been arrested, but it was looking like that was the direction things were heading in. Arlen said that Lucy was a relative of his, and he wanted to put her bike in his back yard for safe keeping. He wanted to ask the police if this was okay, but he was afraid they would get mad at him interfering. He had been drinking, and the smell of whiskey was on his breathe. He figured the police could use this as an excuse to arrest him, so he stayed in his own yard.
I happened to know two of the three officers who were present that day. One was Officer Rogers. He was the one who accosted me as I was going to get in my truck earlier in the year and insinuated that the drug activities here were my fault. He was certainly no friend of mine. But Officer Powell was also on hand. He was the one who came out for the bag of pot on my front steps. Although his suggestion to get a no-trespass order from FWPD turned out to be not very useful, this was no fault of his. It was obvious to me from the way he dealt with things that day that he at least gave a damn.
By now, they were handcuffing Lucy, so I decided to convey Arlen’s thoughts to the officers. I approached the trio, remembering full well the time I did this several years ago with another group of officers ago and was nearly arrested for it. I called to Officer Powell by name and told him my neighbor wanted to know if he could take possession of the bike. The third officer, Eagleburger, then turned to me and said “Well, she’s not being very cooperative. I really don’t know if I want to help her out.” He was frustrated and angry, but it seemed directed at Lucy, rather than at me.
I responded to Officer Eagleburger that I could see she was making a lot of noise, and I didn’t blame them for arresting her. But I suggested that giving the bike to Arlen would save them some trouble as well, by not having to take it to the police station. He said he’d think about it, then turned back towards Lucy. A minute later, Officer Powell wheeled the bike over to Arlen. The officers began searching Lucy and pulled a 14’ fillet knife from her pants. They discussed the matter for a minute, then Officer Rogers walked over to Arlen to offer him the knife as well. This is the part that was really funny, and you would actually have to see it to get the full impact.
First of all, the way Officer Rogers was carrying the knife was interesting in itself. He was holding it as one would hold a dirty sock - the edge of the finger tips barely gripping it , and a dour look on his face. Arlen had been joined by his wife Dolley at this point, and their reaction was even more hilarious than Officer Powell’s behavior. As the officer offered the knife to them, they both jumped back and said in unison “Oh no, we don’t want that!” Officer Powell got a confused look on his face, as he just didn’t seem to understand why they would offer to take charge of a bike, but not a deadly weapon.
Anyway, I thought this episode illustrated several important points. First, Arlen had done nothing wrong. Although he had been drinking, it was inside his house. Yet he was afraid to even speak to these officers for fear that he would be arrested. And I had learned two important things about the police that day. First, if you happen to know the officer by name, it is more likely that he will speak to you rather than shout at you to just shut up. But I also saw another example of an officer showing that he gave a damn. There was no need to take Lucy’s bike in because getting arrested would be enough punishment for her rude behavior. But offering the bike to Arlen was a show of goodwill towards him (and perhaps myself), not necessarily towards Lucy.
The final lesson I learned that day is one I really wish that I could share with those officers and the rest of FWPD. At the beginning of this, as I stood there with Arlen watching the police argue with Lucy, he was mumbling under his breathe about how they were just harassing her. By the time they left though, he was praising them for doing a good job. I know the fact that Lucy just wouldn’t shut the hell up helped him to realize that the police were right in arresting her. But I expect their being responsive to his offer to take the bike helped sway his opinion also.
Overall, I guess the lessons learned that day were that not all cops are pricks and not all the people who live here are assholes. Both Arlen and I saw proof of the former, but I’m not sure how aware those officers were of the latter. I really would like to tell them about this story (and many others like it) and how their own positive behavior affected a positive change in Arlen’s attitude. But such communication between FWPD and the citizens they supposedly serve does not exist - because FWPD will not allow it.
And this is what is so frustrating about my entire position regarding FWPD. They have shut me (and many others) out probably based upon the false assumption that all we want to do is bitch and cause problems for them. But that is only one side of the coin. I also have a lot of useful things to say about what they are doing right. If there was anybody who runs that department that didn’t have their head shoved entirely up their ass, they would see that listening to me could actually be quite beneficial to them.
Intelligent people should always seek to understand themselves, and doing so usually leads to enhanced performance. Intelligent people understand that no matter how smart they (think they) are, they can always learn something useful by studying another’s perspective. And intelligent people realize that when other people who observe them give an appraisal of their behavior, whether critical or complimentary, this can lead to a better understanding of oneself. But as I said before, it appears that a lack of intelligence is required to move up the ranks at FWPD.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
The Police Crack Down In Crack-Town: October 30 - November 4, 2006
On Monday, October 30, I arrived home around nine in the evening. There was an unmarked police car parked nearby, so I sat on the porch to watch the show. The car remained there for five to ten minutes, then another unmarked car began patrolling the area. A few minutes later, this second car came east on Suttenfield (the wrong way) and stopped in front of a nearby house. There was a large group (perhaps twelve people) standing in the driveway there and it appeared to be a bunch of teenagers having a little party.
The officers got out of the car and approached the group. It appeared they were checking IDs and it sounded like one officer accused them of smelling like alcohol. Within a few minutes, four squad cars and another unmarked car arrived on the scene. The last car to arrive was a K-9 unit and they got the dog out. It did not appear that there were any arrests, but the police and the group of people all cleared out by ten o’clock.
Honestly, from what I could see, it did not appear that the group was doing anything wrong, but I think this was simply FWPD’s way of announcing that they would be cranking up their presence here for a while. While the police were with this group, Darrell, Daniel and another of their drug-buddies walked past my house. As they walked by Darrell’s house, his mother, Dolley, stepped out front and said “Boy, I wish they’d get you.” Darrell just laughed as he replied with a laugh “They’ll never get me.”
The next morning, Officer Marshall called and left a message. He said he just wanted to check on things. He said he had sent some vice units to the area the previous night to quiet things down. So now, it seemed that Officer Marshall wanted to just bury the hatchet by showing me that he was finally working for me. A part of me wanted to accept this, but another part resisted.
I guess maybe I’m a little old-fashioned, but I think that when someone is wronged, there should be an apology or at least an explanation given. And this is not just about wounded pride. Dwelling on our mistakes and the past can certainly lead to problems, but the same can be said for the opposite as well. That is to say, a lack of reflection is just as dangerous as too much reflection. While the later might allow our anger to rule, the former allows our ignorance to rule.
Apparently, Officer Marshall (and FWPD) thought that we should just forget about him callously disregarding my safety. I strongly disagreed. Without an explanation of how things got so out of hand, I could not be assured that it would not eventually happen again. This was the reason that I began working on my appeal to the Board of Public Safety over my complaint.
A few nights after this episode (Thursday, November 2), I left my house around eleven o’clock in the evening. As I traveled down the road, a squad car came up from the rear and began to follow me. He tailed me for three blocks, followed my turn, then stayed with me for another block. At that point I had come to an intersection where my traffic light had just turned red. There was another squad car in the cross street, but he failed to move forward as his light turned green.
So there I was at Creighton & Calhoun , in the middle of the night. I was alone, except for the police who it now appeared were targeting me. The fact that this was occurring just a week after I had filed my complaint did not make me feel very comfortable at that moment. As the light turned and I progressed through the intersection, the car behind turned on his lights and pulled me over. I really did not have a good feeling about this.
One officer came to my door while another remained in the car. The second car remained parked behind them. When the officer read my ID, he quickly remarked “Oh, you’re that guy.” He then waved for the other car to leave the area. He said I had blown through a stop sign back by my house. I really have no idea whether this was accurate or not, but I didn’t plan on arguing. We talked long enough for him to realize I wasn’t drunk or high, then he told me that they (FWPD) were really stepping up their patrols here after what had recently happened to my house.
I told him I appreciated this and added that I would try to drive more carefully in the future. The officer then asked me about one of the guys who hangs out in front of my house. He described the guy and he was looking for a name to attach to him. I don’t know whether he was really trying to figure out this guys name, or if he was just testing me to see how knowledgeable I was and my willingness to share information with them. I knew the guy he was talking about, but at the time I did not know Orrin’s name.
These two events marked the beginning of a major campaign here by FWPD to show a very forceful presence. There is no way I could even begin to tell you everything that I witnessed as a result of this, and there are many things that I never witnessed myself. All I will say is that, unless you live here, you simply would not believe it. In my opinion, the results were mixed.
There were times where certain events could be described as nothing more than mere harassment by the police, and at the same time, there were still people who managed to get away with selling drugs here. But overall, it had a large and positive impact (from my perspective.) The guys still sold drugs, but they were far less obnoxious about it - at least for a while.
UPCOMING POST
Friday: Please Arrest Me
The officers got out of the car and approached the group. It appeared they were checking IDs and it sounded like one officer accused them of smelling like alcohol. Within a few minutes, four squad cars and another unmarked car arrived on the scene. The last car to arrive was a K-9 unit and they got the dog out. It did not appear that there were any arrests, but the police and the group of people all cleared out by ten o’clock.
Honestly, from what I could see, it did not appear that the group was doing anything wrong, but I think this was simply FWPD’s way of announcing that they would be cranking up their presence here for a while. While the police were with this group, Darrell, Daniel and another of their drug-buddies walked past my house. As they walked by Darrell’s house, his mother, Dolley, stepped out front and said “Boy, I wish they’d get you.” Darrell just laughed as he replied with a laugh “They’ll never get me.”
The next morning, Officer Marshall called and left a message. He said he just wanted to check on things. He said he had sent some vice units to the area the previous night to quiet things down. So now, it seemed that Officer Marshall wanted to just bury the hatchet by showing me that he was finally working for me. A part of me wanted to accept this, but another part resisted.
I guess maybe I’m a little old-fashioned, but I think that when someone is wronged, there should be an apology or at least an explanation given. And this is not just about wounded pride. Dwelling on our mistakes and the past can certainly lead to problems, but the same can be said for the opposite as well. That is to say, a lack of reflection is just as dangerous as too much reflection. While the later might allow our anger to rule, the former allows our ignorance to rule.
Apparently, Officer Marshall (and FWPD) thought that we should just forget about him callously disregarding my safety. I strongly disagreed. Without an explanation of how things got so out of hand, I could not be assured that it would not eventually happen again. This was the reason that I began working on my appeal to the Board of Public Safety over my complaint.
A few nights after this episode (Thursday, November 2), I left my house around eleven o’clock in the evening. As I traveled down the road, a squad car came up from the rear and began to follow me. He tailed me for three blocks, followed my turn, then stayed with me for another block. At that point I had come to an intersection where my traffic light had just turned red. There was another squad car in the cross street, but he failed to move forward as his light turned green.
So there I was at Creighton & Calhoun , in the middle of the night. I was alone, except for the police who it now appeared were targeting me. The fact that this was occurring just a week after I had filed my complaint did not make me feel very comfortable at that moment. As the light turned and I progressed through the intersection, the car behind turned on his lights and pulled me over. I really did not have a good feeling about this.
One officer came to my door while another remained in the car. The second car remained parked behind them. When the officer read my ID, he quickly remarked “Oh, you’re that guy.” He then waved for the other car to leave the area. He said I had blown through a stop sign back by my house. I really have no idea whether this was accurate or not, but I didn’t plan on arguing. We talked long enough for him to realize I wasn’t drunk or high, then he told me that they (FWPD) were really stepping up their patrols here after what had recently happened to my house.
I told him I appreciated this and added that I would try to drive more carefully in the future. The officer then asked me about one of the guys who hangs out in front of my house. He described the guy and he was looking for a name to attach to him. I don’t know whether he was really trying to figure out this guys name, or if he was just testing me to see how knowledgeable I was and my willingness to share information with them. I knew the guy he was talking about, but at the time I did not know Orrin’s name.
These two events marked the beginning of a major campaign here by FWPD to show a very forceful presence. There is no way I could even begin to tell you everything that I witnessed as a result of this, and there are many things that I never witnessed myself. All I will say is that, unless you live here, you simply would not believe it. In my opinion, the results were mixed.
There were times where certain events could be described as nothing more than mere harassment by the police, and at the same time, there were still people who managed to get away with selling drugs here. But overall, it had a large and positive impact (from my perspective.) The guys still sold drugs, but they were far less obnoxious about it - at least for a while.
UPCOMING POST
Friday: Please Arrest Me
Monday, October 13, 2008
Taking Notes: October 24-29, 2006
Prior to October of 2006, I never actually kept a journal of the activities here. I occasionally would jot down some notes on scrap pieces of paper, then set these aside somewhere to be forgotten. By this point though, I had seen enough to realize that there was an organized criminal enterprise going on here. And it was equally apparent that the police were aiding it either intentionally or simply through their ignorance and lack of concern.
But I really didn’t have the time to tackle a problem that big because I worked full-time and had recently returned to school. All I wanted was for people to quit selling drugs from my property, to quit throwing trash in my yard, and to keep quiet. As far as I was concerned, the drug dealers and the incompetent/corrupt FWPD could do what they wanted with the rest of the neighborhood, just as long as they gave me a little peace in my own home.
Then, the attack on my house motivated me to get more involved. It was now undeniable that my economic security and personal safety were at risk, and I therefore needed to better understand the problem. So I went into information gathering mode, and in late October I began to dedicate a lot of time to keeping track of what was going on here. For a while I would note just about any time that I saw a drug dealer, suspected drug dealer, or police officer in my neighborhood. At first, I was not even sure what to look for, so I just made very basic notes of who, where and when.
I have said before that there does not seem to be solid lines of division between the different players here, but you can see stronger and weaker associations. From just the short sample below, certain patterns can begin to be discerned. For example, Sheldon, Sherrod, Darrell and Daniel seem to have a very close bond with each other here. Eventually this information helped me to understand some useful patterns of behavior, but in the beginning it was just a jumbled mess of unintelligible information.
When I compiled my notes from the first eleven years that I lived here, it came up to fourteen typed pages. These notes were sparse and lacked a lot of detail. From October 2006 until the present, my notes cover fifty three pages. So I went from a little over one page per year to a little over one page per month. This massive increase of information has certainly led to many useful discoveries, but it has it’s drawbacks as well. Often, when searching for a specific event which occurred in the past two years, it is a struggle to find it among the mass of words.
I also began using a lot of short-hand techniques for writing more information in less space. Below, I will present a short sample of my notes from a week at the end of October 2006. Many times, I have not fully explained in my notes what happened, but these notes are enough for me to recall the event more clearly. In the notes included here, the date is in bold and the time of day is underlined. The monikers such as NW or SE tell which corner the persons were standing on at this time. Carl’s was the most active drug house in the neighborhood at this time, so I referred to it as WDH (Warsaw drug house.)
I will not try to explain everything here, but if you have questions feel free to ask. And I do not plan to post this type of detailed information for the rest of the time here. I just thought this would be a good example to show the type of information base from which I am currently drawing on to tell the rest of this story.
UPCOMING POSTS
Wednesday: The Police Crack Down In Crack-Town
Friday: Please Arrest Me
But I really didn’t have the time to tackle a problem that big because I worked full-time and had recently returned to school. All I wanted was for people to quit selling drugs from my property, to quit throwing trash in my yard, and to keep quiet. As far as I was concerned, the drug dealers and the incompetent/corrupt FWPD could do what they wanted with the rest of the neighborhood, just as long as they gave me a little peace in my own home.
Then, the attack on my house motivated me to get more involved. It was now undeniable that my economic security and personal safety were at risk, and I therefore needed to better understand the problem. So I went into information gathering mode, and in late October I began to dedicate a lot of time to keeping track of what was going on here. For a while I would note just about any time that I saw a drug dealer, suspected drug dealer, or police officer in my neighborhood. At first, I was not even sure what to look for, so I just made very basic notes of who, where and when.
I have said before that there does not seem to be solid lines of division between the different players here, but you can see stronger and weaker associations. From just the short sample below, certain patterns can begin to be discerned. For example, Sheldon, Sherrod, Darrell and Daniel seem to have a very close bond with each other here. Eventually this information helped me to understand some useful patterns of behavior, but in the beginning it was just a jumbled mess of unintelligible information.
When I compiled my notes from the first eleven years that I lived here, it came up to fourteen typed pages. These notes were sparse and lacked a lot of detail. From October 2006 until the present, my notes cover fifty three pages. So I went from a little over one page per year to a little over one page per month. This massive increase of information has certainly led to many useful discoveries, but it has it’s drawbacks as well. Often, when searching for a specific event which occurred in the past two years, it is a struggle to find it among the mass of words.
I also began using a lot of short-hand techniques for writing more information in less space. Below, I will present a short sample of my notes from a week at the end of October 2006. Many times, I have not fully explained in my notes what happened, but these notes are enough for me to recall the event more clearly. In the notes included here, the date is in bold and the time of day is underlined. The monikers such as NW or SE tell which corner the persons were standing on at this time. Carl’s was the most active drug house in the neighborhood at this time, so I referred to it as WDH (Warsaw drug house.)
I will not try to explain everything here, but if you have questions feel free to ask. And I do not plan to post this type of detailed information for the rest of the time here. I just thought this would be a good example to show the type of information base from which I am currently drawing on to tell the rest of this story.
TU-24
09:00 Left phone message with Officer Michael Joyner (427-5842), asking for opportunity to speak with him.
10:00 Saw 5 guys (Sheldon, John) outside my house, reading my new message (Way the world is/could be). Went out to get mail and talked with them - friendly
encounter.
11:00 Went to talk to Frank Gray about complaint.
NW (5X)
12:30 Returned home. Marine recruiter parked on SW corner in front of my house. He was talking with Sheldon, Daniel and another guy. They nodded at me, so I went over and joined their conversation. I asked Sheldon if he was going to be a Marine, and he said maybe. I asked the Marine how much money he makes and he said $100K. We were all impressed. He said he would be making more now, but he had done some stupid stuff when he was younger and gotten in trouble. I told him I think we’ve all done some stupid stuff before. Sheldon was friendly towards me. Daniel was “not unfriendly.” As they walked away on N side of Suttenfield, heading W, Sheldon shouted out loud “I’m going to be a Marine!” A patrol car (xxx) pulled up beside the Marine and officer started talking with him. Appears Marine was friend of officer and officer requested he come here to talk to the guys.
WE-25
09:30 SE-Jay
11:30 NW (Sheldon, Sherrod, Daniel)
13:30 NW (Sheldon, Darrell, X)
15:00 SE (6X)
NW (Jay, Darrell, Sherrod, X)
16:47 Joyner returns call and leaves message.
20:00 NW (Jay)
SE (John)
22:30 SE (Jay, John, X)
Called Joyner and left my schedule for the next day, asking if he’d call back when convenient.
23:00 W of NW (Jay, John)
23:50 SE (Jay, John, X)
TH-26
10:00 NW (Jay, Gordon)
11:00 NW (Jay, Gordon, Orrin, X)
12:00 NW (Jay, Gordon, Orrin, X, Rosalynn)
12:15 Car stopped in intersection and Jay began approaching. Gordon jumped in front and cut him off. They bumped chests and lightly scuffled for about 10 minutes, sometimes in the middle of the street. Gordon made reference to my sign, and seamed like he might be agitated about it.
15:10 NW (Sheldon, Orrin, Jay, X)
17:30 Leaving house, saw Gordon and asked him what he thought about the situation. He said I was being fair, but that I should settle down now as I had made my point.
FR-27
01:30 Gordon & John were walking by and stopped to talk. Gordon offered to let me look at his “Club” magazine. He asked when I was going to take my sign down. I declined to answer, and changed the subject.
08:45 Received call from xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx (xxx-xxxx). He spoke about problems he’s had on xxxxxxxxxxx St. He said he felt like police were ignoring him also.
12:00 SE (2X)
WDH (9X)
SU-29
23:00 Car (silver, 4 door) pulled up on E side of my house. I went outside and saw Gordon was walking around WDH w/2others, looking for something in the grass. I went to front porch and Gordon walked by, mumbling something about Darrell. I said nothing. Gordon headed W on Suttenfield. I heard whistle from E side of house, Gordon returned to the front of the house and asked me if I had seen Darrell. I told him I hadn’t seen anyone. Gordon walked around E side of house. A few minutes later, I walked to back yard to find that car and Gordon were gone.
UPCOMING POSTS
Wednesday: The Police Crack Down In Crack-Town
Friday: Please Arrest Me
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Weekend Report
Borrower Beware
I was cutting trees out back yesterday when my chainsaw died on me. I was working on it when Collin walked into my back yard. He was carrying a small electric chainsaw and he offered it to me. I only needed to do a couple of cuts before I got back down to ground level, and the lift was rented just for the day, so it was really good timing. I went back up to start cutting and Collin called up and asked if I would like to buy the saw from him.
He only wanted $15 bucks, but I really didn’t want to buy a tool that I would probably never use again. He said it was okay for me to go ahead and use it for a short period. A minute later, he called to me again, this time offering to sell it for only $10. My response was the same, and if he asked again I was just going to give the saw back and work on my own again.
A few minutes later I looked down and saw a police officer pull up beside my yard and call Collin over to speak with him. I assumed it was something drug related (it usually is), but said jokingly to my friends on the ground that I hope they weren’t here about a stolen saw. I watched as Collin was handcuffed and placed in the car, and I began to wonder about the saw. I couldn’t really give it to him now, so I figured I’d just hold onto it until he came back around. I was lowering the lift so I could ask the officer to let Collin know I would hold his saw for him. But then Officer Bryan came over to me. He simply asked “You got the saw?”
He said it had been stolen from someone a couple blocks from here and that is what Collin was being arrested for. I explained the situation, and pointed to two of my friends as witnesses. He said he just needed the saw, and He wasn’t reaching for his gun or his cuffs, so I guess he believed me. I ran the saw for a moment to show the officer that it was still in working order. I knew he wouldn’t tell me who’s saw it was, but I asked him to convey my apologies to them and let me know if they felt I had damages it during use.
About an hour later, Officer Bryan pulled up again and called me over to his car. He needed to get more information for his report, and the first thing he asked was how I knew Collin. What was funny is that I know Collin by two different names, one is a derogatory name that a lot of people here call him, and the other is a normal sounding name that he once introduced himself to me under. Apparently, neither of these names are his actual legal name. Officer Bryan said that Collin was being charged with a felony, so I assume he must have a lot of prior convictions.
Over the years here, I have had a lot of people offer to sell me just about anything you can imagine including, clothes, tools, a microwave, and a coat-rack. My standard response is always a quick and emphatic no. There is no way I can be sure the items are not stolen, and around here there is a good chance that they are. I don’t care how good of a deal they are offering, I’m not interested. But here, Collin seemed to be simply offering to let me use “his” saw. And he was standing around watching me as I worked, not what you would expect from someone who had just stolen something.
Some of my neighbors seemed a bit upset at the way the officer treated me. They felt that in most cases, the person actually in possession of the stolen item would be in trouble also. It’s not that they actually wanted me to be arrested, they just wanted equal treatment. The implication here was that my word was trusted and I was not arrested simply because I was white. While I will certainly not argue that there might be some evidence to back this belief up to some degree, that is not the entire story.
First of all, some of the same people who were complaining have crack selling children living in their homes. I, on the other hand, have cooperated numerous times with the police in helping them to counter the crime here. I have a history with FWPD that should lend credibility to my statements, whereas many people here have proven the opposite. It also helps that I had met Officer Bryan once before, so he had something to build his opinion on this particular day.
So I guess I’ll now have to add “borrowing tools from a neighbor” to the list of normal activities that I should not engage in here. This list currently includes giving a ride to a person, letting someone use my telephone, stepping outside my home without my gun, and stepping off of my property without my drivers license. I have an interesting story to tell about how each of these was added to the list, and it’s all drug related.
Wanted
Two days ago, there was an SUV parked down the street that looked a little suspicious. I glanced at it a couple times as I was going to my shed and I could tell it was occupied, although I wasn’t close enough to ID anyone. After a few minutes, the vehicle drove off and I saw that there were two Allen County police officers inside. They were parked directly across the street from where the grandmother of one of the guys who’s wanted for the Reed St shooting lives at, so I suppose they were likely watching for him.
Apparently the police have been looking for him for at least the past couple of days. On Thursday, they called the SWAT team in to search a house about a quarter mile south of here where they thought this guy and/or a relative of his (also wanted) was holed up. They found nothing at that time but did catch his buddy the next day.
This is the same guy that was shooting back and forth with one of his friends a couple times earlier this year. I saw him here earlier in the week, but I don’t even know if he was wanted at that time. The police really seem to have toned down their presence here lately. Part of it is due to the changing season, but also due to my cameras I am sure. If there’s no drug dealing crowds on the corners, there’s no justification for driving through here twenty times a day.
08F152565 23:52:42 113 SHOTS FIRED 27XX WARSAW ST & LEITH ST E
A couple weeks ago (Sunday, Sept. 28) at just a little after midnight, I saw something interesting here. Four police cars suddenly converged upon a man who was walking just east of my house. One of the cars actually pulled up and parked on the sidewalk. They had the man handcuffed for a few minutes before they cut him loose. I did not recognize him, which probably means he’s not a major player here.
When I checked FWPD’s daily activity report, the closest incident that I could find was a shooting which happened about ten minutes earlier (Listed on the Sept. 27 report). This is just two blocks south of my house, so it is likely that this is what brought the officers to the area. For the next hour or so, I noticed a lot of police activity here (just driving, no stops), which is unusual as a shooting with no one hit usually seems to be quickly forgotten.
Although the guy who was detained looked harmless to me, I understand why anyone in the area of shots fired would be looked at with suspicion. But I do have a question about this. I am just guessing here, but I’ll bet that man’s name does not appear anywhere in the official report, and I don’t think that is right. Any time a person is detained by the police, I think there should be a record of it. To not require this, I believe, invites abuses of power by the police. I have seen a lot of events here where people were handcuffed or even arrested, but could not even find any report that seemed to match it.
To me, the notion that an officer could handcuff a person and sometimes even drive away with them in the back of a caged car, with no official record being made, is a bit scary. I remember that event earlier this year where a FWPD cop went crazy. Based on the word of a friend, he picked up a lady and tossed her in his car. He then proceeded to slap her around and interrogated her he drove around town. When he was finshed, he just dropped her in her front yard. Imagine if that lady had called the next day to complain and they simply said “I’m sorry, no record of this exists.” I wonder how this event actually came to light. Did the cop actually call it in, or did someone witness the event?
Anyway, cops are just people. We all know that sometimes people go a little crazy and all people have a natural disposition to abuse power if given the chance. It seems a bit reckless to allow someone with a gun and badge to do things off the record, but I really think that is what happens here much of the time.
Moving Forward
I am going to go ahead and stick with the Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule for the main part of my story, which is a retelling of past events here. I might do a post on the weekend or occasionally during the week to talk about current events.
Regarding the past, up to this point I have kept the stories in chronological order, but that may not continue. The reason for this is that the various observations which have led me to a particular opinion about something have not all occurred at the same time. I will probably have to draw on several examples, from many different points in time, to explain my view on certain aspects of the situation here.
I also will not be attempting to tell everything. If I were to convert the remaining fifty pages of condensed information into intelligible reports, it would be far longer than my entire blog to date. I don’t really need to tell everything to get the main points across though. I also need to keep a little something in reserve in case I decide to write a book sometime.
I still plan to complete this blog before the end of the year, although I am certain the story will continue long after that.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Searching For Signs Of Intelligent Life: October 24-25, 2006
When I was filling out the complaint form, I looked up FWPD’s web-site to make sure I had Officer Marshall’s title correct. It was then that I first discovered their on-line community forum. I spent several hours that evening perusing it. I had not intended to leave a message at that time, as I was quite certain that anything I had to say would have never passed through their censors to be printed.
What I was looking for though was just a general idea of what types of problems other people were discussing and how FWPD responded to them. It did not take long before I noticed a familiar pattern. The easy questions were answered while the more complicated ones were met with “Call me sometime and we can discuss this.” Such messages were almost always posted by FWPD Officer Michael Joyner.
Most of you who follow my blog realize by now that I am using pseudonyms for almost all of the characters in this story. However, I have made a few exceptions already when I felt it was necessary. For example, as the head of FWPD, I think it is necessary to refer to Chief York specifically, rather than just saying “A very high ranking officer.” The reasons for this I believe are too obvious to even require explanation.
Some of you probably also realize that when I refer to Officer Michael Joyner, I am using his real name as well. There are two main reasons why I felt compelled to do this. First of all, in his former role as public communications officer, Mr. Joyner’s words represent official FWPD policy. And this makes his statements significantly different than the words of any other officer, with the exception of Chief York himself. It really wouldn’t make sense to say “The man who officially speaks for FWPD,” while pretending that I was protecting his anonymity.
Some of you also probably already realize that when I refer to Officer Michael Joyner, I am using his real name as well. There are two main reasons why I felt compelled to do this. First of all, in his former role as public communications officer, Mr. Joyner’s words represent official FWPD policy. And this makes his statements significantly different than the words of any other officer, with the exception of Chief York himself. It really wouldn’t make sense to say “The man who officially speaks for FWPD,” while pretending that I was protecting his anonymity.
The second reason I chose to drop Mr. Joyner’s cover is because he is a political actor. While his run for the Democratic nomination for Allen County Sheriff in 2006 was outside the scope of FWPD, it does show that he is one who yearns to hold a position where he can exercise some authority. Mr. Joyner obviously thinks he is fit to be the chief law enforcement officer in this county. I think, therefore, that his actions as a FWPD officer should be examined to see if they warrant such power being placed in his hands.
At nine o’clock in the morning, on October 24, 2006, I called Officer Joyner and requested the opportunity to speak with him. I gave the briefest explanation possible for my particular situation. I expressed that I was very impressed by the way he handled the questions on his web-site, and that I thought that my situation definitely would be better talked about privately rather than on-line. At that time, I did not mention the fact that I had filed a complaint because I thought it best to save that for our discussion rather than just dropping it in a recorded message.
The next day, Officer Joyner returned my call. I was not home at the time but he left a message indicating that he would like to meet with me to discuss my problem. This made me feel really good. If any of you are familiar with Michael Joyner, you will probably agree that he appears to be fairly intelligent and is a good communicator. Maybe I had finally found the right person within FWPD. I was beginning to think that Officer Joyner might be the intelligent agent among the top brass at FWPD that I had tied for so long to reach.
I returned Officer Joyner’s call and left another message. This time I gave him a complete rundown of my schedule for the next day, so he would have an easier time reaching me. Based upon what I had known of him up to this point, I never would have filed my complaint if I had instead been allowed to set down and discuss the situation with him. And I was certainly prepared to rescind my complaint immediately once I got the chance to explain things to him. Unfortunately, Officer Joyner never returned that phone call.
I expect what happened was that Officer Joyner had gotten word of my complaint against Officer Marshall. At that point, FWPD probably viewed me as belligerent, and not truly seeking the peaceful solution that I had indicated. I think that this is truly a sad commentary on both FWPD and Officer Joyner. After all, I had only filed the complaint because Internal Affairs told me I had no other options.
It sure would have made a lot more sense if I.A. had referred me to Officer Joyner instead, in hopes that the problem could be amicably resolved. Instead, I was only given two options - either file a complaint, or simply accept the fact that a member of the FWPD Command Staff expected me to turn my home over to his drug dealers. And of course, once I filed the complaint I was automatically branded as a troublemaker.
I realize that it is very likely that the decision to sever communication with me was not made by Officer Joyner himself, but he accepted it. And I think his position is high enough to equate acceptance of a bad decision with making a bad decision. In my telephone message I made it clear that I did not want to cause trouble, but that I desperately needed help with this major problem.
I can only assume that the fact that he wasn’t able to convince the other numbskulls at FWPD of this points to some type of character flaw of his. I was very impressed with Officer Joyner’s performance as a candidate for Sheriff in 2006, and being a good communicator was his strongest suite. But he failed this test miserably when it came to an issue that affected my personal safety. He willfully chose to tow the party line, rather than fulfilling his oath to serve and to protect, and for this reason alone I will never again even consider voting for Michael Joyner for any office.
I called Officer Joyner that day thinking that he was am intelligent person. Surely there exists at least one person within FWPD that is smart enough to realize that genuinely engaging citizens would make more sense than to either lie to or just ignore them. At first, Officer Joyner seemed to me like he was that smart. But evidently I was wrong. Apparantly an extreme lack of intelligence must be requisite for attaining a high position within FWPD.
On a side note, on Tuesday the 24th, I also went to the Fort Wayne Newspaper office and spoke with Frank Gray. He met me in the front lobby and we sat at a small table for about five minutes to talk. I handed him a copy of my complaint, which he apparently just threw in the trash can. I suppose he didn’t want to get his readers too excited by letting them know that their police department was colluding with drug dealers. After all, I’m sure that Chief York told him he had the situation under control. That is, if Frank even had the courage to question anyone at FWPD about this matter.
UPCOMING POSTS
Monday: Taking Notes
Wednesday: The Police Crack Down In Crack-Town
What I was looking for though was just a general idea of what types of problems other people were discussing and how FWPD responded to them. It did not take long before I noticed a familiar pattern. The easy questions were answered while the more complicated ones were met with “Call me sometime and we can discuss this.” Such messages were almost always posted by FWPD Officer Michael Joyner.
Most of you who follow my blog realize by now that I am using pseudonyms for almost all of the characters in this story. However, I have made a few exceptions already when I felt it was necessary. For example, as the head of FWPD, I think it is necessary to refer to Chief York specifically, rather than just saying “A very high ranking officer.” The reasons for this I believe are too obvious to even require explanation.
Some of you probably also realize that when I refer to Officer Michael Joyner, I am using his real name as well. There are two main reasons why I felt compelled to do this. First of all, in his former role as public communications officer, Mr. Joyner’s words represent official FWPD policy. And this makes his statements significantly different than the words of any other officer, with the exception of Chief York himself. It really wouldn’t make sense to say “The man who officially speaks for FWPD,” while pretending that I was protecting his anonymity.
Some of you also probably already realize that when I refer to Officer Michael Joyner, I am using his real name as well. There are two main reasons why I felt compelled to do this. First of all, in his former role as public communications officer, Mr. Joyner’s words represent official FWPD policy. And this makes his statements significantly different than the words of any other officer, with the exception of Chief York himself. It really wouldn’t make sense to say “The man who officially speaks for FWPD,” while pretending that I was protecting his anonymity.
The second reason I chose to drop Mr. Joyner’s cover is because he is a political actor. While his run for the Democratic nomination for Allen County Sheriff in 2006 was outside the scope of FWPD, it does show that he is one who yearns to hold a position where he can exercise some authority. Mr. Joyner obviously thinks he is fit to be the chief law enforcement officer in this county. I think, therefore, that his actions as a FWPD officer should be examined to see if they warrant such power being placed in his hands.
At nine o’clock in the morning, on October 24, 2006, I called Officer Joyner and requested the opportunity to speak with him. I gave the briefest explanation possible for my particular situation. I expressed that I was very impressed by the way he handled the questions on his web-site, and that I thought that my situation definitely would be better talked about privately rather than on-line. At that time, I did not mention the fact that I had filed a complaint because I thought it best to save that for our discussion rather than just dropping it in a recorded message.
The next day, Officer Joyner returned my call. I was not home at the time but he left a message indicating that he would like to meet with me to discuss my problem. This made me feel really good. If any of you are familiar with Michael Joyner, you will probably agree that he appears to be fairly intelligent and is a good communicator. Maybe I had finally found the right person within FWPD. I was beginning to think that Officer Joyner might be the intelligent agent among the top brass at FWPD that I had tied for so long to reach.
I returned Officer Joyner’s call and left another message. This time I gave him a complete rundown of my schedule for the next day, so he would have an easier time reaching me. Based upon what I had known of him up to this point, I never would have filed my complaint if I had instead been allowed to set down and discuss the situation with him. And I was certainly prepared to rescind my complaint immediately once I got the chance to explain things to him. Unfortunately, Officer Joyner never returned that phone call.
I expect what happened was that Officer Joyner had gotten word of my complaint against Officer Marshall. At that point, FWPD probably viewed me as belligerent, and not truly seeking the peaceful solution that I had indicated. I think that this is truly a sad commentary on both FWPD and Officer Joyner. After all, I had only filed the complaint because Internal Affairs told me I had no other options.
It sure would have made a lot more sense if I.A. had referred me to Officer Joyner instead, in hopes that the problem could be amicably resolved. Instead, I was only given two options - either file a complaint, or simply accept the fact that a member of the FWPD Command Staff expected me to turn my home over to his drug dealers. And of course, once I filed the complaint I was automatically branded as a troublemaker.
I realize that it is very likely that the decision to sever communication with me was not made by Officer Joyner himself, but he accepted it. And I think his position is high enough to equate acceptance of a bad decision with making a bad decision. In my telephone message I made it clear that I did not want to cause trouble, but that I desperately needed help with this major problem.
I can only assume that the fact that he wasn’t able to convince the other numbskulls at FWPD of this points to some type of character flaw of his. I was very impressed with Officer Joyner’s performance as a candidate for Sheriff in 2006, and being a good communicator was his strongest suite. But he failed this test miserably when it came to an issue that affected my personal safety. He willfully chose to tow the party line, rather than fulfilling his oath to serve and to protect, and for this reason alone I will never again even consider voting for Michael Joyner for any office.
I called Officer Joyner that day thinking that he was am intelligent person. Surely there exists at least one person within FWPD that is smart enough to realize that genuinely engaging citizens would make more sense than to either lie to or just ignore them. At first, Officer Joyner seemed to me like he was that smart. But evidently I was wrong. Apparantly an extreme lack of intelligence must be requisite for attaining a high position within FWPD.
On a side note, on Tuesday the 24th, I also went to the Fort Wayne Newspaper office and spoke with Frank Gray. He met me in the front lobby and we sat at a small table for about five minutes to talk. I handed him a copy of my complaint, which he apparently just threw in the trash can. I suppose he didn’t want to get his readers too excited by letting them know that their police department was colluding with drug dealers. After all, I’m sure that Chief York told him he had the situation under control. That is, if Frank even had the courage to question anyone at FWPD about this matter.
UPCOMING POSTS
Monday: Taking Notes
Wednesday: The Police Crack Down In Crack-Town
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Turning To The Other Front: October 23, 2006
Looking back, I still can’t believe that after having so many people pissed off at me, things never did reach the point where I didn’t end up getting into a gun fight with someone. Maybe the guys here could read my face and realized I just didn’t give a damn. Maybe they actually were scared of me, or more likely they were just smart enough to realize that even if they won, the cost would be much higher than what it was worth. They had money to be made, and it was beginning to look like they had just factored me in as a cost of doing business.
If things had not calmed so quickly with the drug dealers, it is very likely that I would have taken no further action regarding Officer Marshall’s inappropriate behavior. Only a fool fights a two front war, and contending with either the dealers or the police alone would be enough to keep any person busy. But I had secured the Warsaw front (or so it seemed) by making a treaty with the dealers. Now it was time to turn my attention towards the gang on Creighton Street. My basic strategy here was to begin with the assumption that the attitude of Officer Marshall was not reflective of official FWPD policy
After making it through the weekend and becoming convinced that the signals being given to me by the dealers were sincere, I called FWPD and asked to speak with Chief York. His secretary said he was out of town that day and connected me to his voicemail. I left a brief message explaining my conversation with Officer Marshall and expressed that I felt his comments and attitude were inappropriate. I asked that Chief York listen to a recording of the conversation himself, then requested that I be allowed to meet with him in person to discuss the situation.
I had no idea if the conversation had even been recorded, but I began to worry that if it was, it might not be secure. I am certain Officer Marshall would not want anyone else to hear how he spoke to me. It was because of my concern over this, and the fact that I actually hadn’t been able to speak directly with Chief York, that I decided to call the FWPD front desk and inquire about how such a situation should be handled. I did not mention Officer Marshall by name, but did convey that he was a member of the Command Staff. The operator referred me to the internal affairs division of FWPD.
I called FWPD Internal Affairs Department next and spoke with Officer Calhoun, who asked if I wanted to file a formal complaint against Officer Marshall. I said no, adding that I simply wanted them to check and see if this conversation had been recorded. If it was I wanted them to turn it over to Chief York. Officer Calhoun responded “We can not even check to see if such a tape exists unless you file a formal complaint.” So, per direct orders of FWPD-IAD, I filed a complaint later that afternoon against one of their officers.
I did not have a printer on my home computer at the time, and I did not want to waste time in getting the form turned in, so I hand-wrote it. In hindsight, I realize that this was a mistake. First of all, I think FWPD is used to quickly brushing off complaints that come from people in the inner-city. They know that most of the time these people don’t have the financial resources to file a lawsuit, and that is really a person’s only recourse when the police department and their watchdogs refuse to act responsibly. I expect that my note being handwritten and a bit sloppy is in no small part what led them to summarily dismiss my complaint.
In spite of my failure to type, I think that I explained the situation adequately. I gave all the relevant information and stayed focused on the main point I was trying to get to, which was the problem with Officer Marshall. On the other hand, FWPD tried to confuse the issue by stating that I was just upset with the way their department handles things in this neighborhood. While that is certainly true, that is not what I stated in my complaint. As to the actual issue I did raise, they simply said that no recording of the conversation existed.
What they did not say was: How Officer Marshall characterized our conversation; whether calls to that number are usually recorded; if they even bothered to question Officer Marshall at all. Like I said before, it was simply a “fuck-off” letter.
And as for that part about FWPD striving to provide the best possible services, that makes about as much sense as when Councilman Pape publicly proclaimed that Harrison Square was one of the most open projects ever. I guess he just forgot about that time he told Councilman Schmidt to shut up and quit asking questions. And I guess FWPD just forgot about the fact that they appear to be running an open-air drug market from my front yard and that their associates just tried to burn down my house.
UPCOMING POSTS
Friday: Searching For Signs Of Intelligent Life
Monday: Taking Notes
If things had not calmed so quickly with the drug dealers, it is very likely that I would have taken no further action regarding Officer Marshall’s inappropriate behavior. Only a fool fights a two front war, and contending with either the dealers or the police alone would be enough to keep any person busy. But I had secured the Warsaw front (or so it seemed) by making a treaty with the dealers. Now it was time to turn my attention towards the gang on Creighton Street. My basic strategy here was to begin with the assumption that the attitude of Officer Marshall was not reflective of official FWPD policy
After making it through the weekend and becoming convinced that the signals being given to me by the dealers were sincere, I called FWPD and asked to speak with Chief York. His secretary said he was out of town that day and connected me to his voicemail. I left a brief message explaining my conversation with Officer Marshall and expressed that I felt his comments and attitude were inappropriate. I asked that Chief York listen to a recording of the conversation himself, then requested that I be allowed to meet with him in person to discuss the situation.
I had no idea if the conversation had even been recorded, but I began to worry that if it was, it might not be secure. I am certain Officer Marshall would not want anyone else to hear how he spoke to me. It was because of my concern over this, and the fact that I actually hadn’t been able to speak directly with Chief York, that I decided to call the FWPD front desk and inquire about how such a situation should be handled. I did not mention Officer Marshall by name, but did convey that he was a member of the Command Staff. The operator referred me to the internal affairs division of FWPD.
I called FWPD Internal Affairs Department next and spoke with Officer Calhoun, who asked if I wanted to file a formal complaint against Officer Marshall. I said no, adding that I simply wanted them to check and see if this conversation had been recorded. If it was I wanted them to turn it over to Chief York. Officer Calhoun responded “We can not even check to see if such a tape exists unless you file a formal complaint.” So, per direct orders of FWPD-IAD, I filed a complaint later that afternoon against one of their officers.
I did not have a printer on my home computer at the time, and I did not want to waste time in getting the form turned in, so I hand-wrote it. In hindsight, I realize that this was a mistake. First of all, I think FWPD is used to quickly brushing off complaints that come from people in the inner-city. They know that most of the time these people don’t have the financial resources to file a lawsuit, and that is really a person’s only recourse when the police department and their watchdogs refuse to act responsibly. I expect that my note being handwritten and a bit sloppy is in no small part what led them to summarily dismiss my complaint.
In spite of my failure to type, I think that I explained the situation adequately. I gave all the relevant information and stayed focused on the main point I was trying to get to, which was the problem with Officer Marshall. On the other hand, FWPD tried to confuse the issue by stating that I was just upset with the way their department handles things in this neighborhood. While that is certainly true, that is not what I stated in my complaint. As to the actual issue I did raise, they simply said that no recording of the conversation existed.
What they did not say was: How Officer Marshall characterized our conversation; whether calls to that number are usually recorded; if they even bothered to question Officer Marshall at all. Like I said before, it was simply a “fuck-off” letter.
And as for that part about FWPD striving to provide the best possible services, that makes about as much sense as when Councilman Pape publicly proclaimed that Harrison Square was one of the most open projects ever. I guess he just forgot about that time he told Councilman Schmidt to shut up and quit asking questions. And I guess FWPD just forgot about the fact that they appear to be running an open-air drug market from my front yard and that their associates just tried to burn down my house.
UPCOMING POSTS
Friday: Searching For Signs Of Intelligent Life
Monday: Taking Notes
Monday, October 6, 2008
I Should Sell Tickets: October 6, 2008
Last night, just a little over an hour ago, I heard several shots fired. It sounded like they were about a block away, to the west or north. I’ve already discussed before what my criteria for deciding whether I will call the police is, and this did not seem to meet it. But I’m always curious, so I stepped outside to see what was going on. Almost immediately after I stepped out, a man rode by on a bicycle. He was on Suttenfield, and heading east towards Hanna.
He really didn’t seem in too big of a hurry, and I wasn’t even certain that the shots came from the area he was riding away from, so I just watched. Within a couple minutes, two squad cars showed up. Both went to the intersection of Suttenfield and Caroline streets ( a little less than a block to the west of me). One of the officers was searching the ground, so I stepped out a bit thinking that one of them or another officer might see me and ask what I saw. They didn’t, and I decided I’d go ahead and call in my information.
I have learned from experience that the person answering the phone does not always know exactly what is going on, so I began by simply stating “You have a couple of police cars here at Suttenfield and Caroline Street, checking on the shots fired. I saw someone leaving that area just after the shots were fired and I wanted to pass this information on to your officers.” Well, it took a minute for him to realize that he actually did have officers on the scene, but then he was ready to take my information. As I described the person, I’m pretty sure that I stated he was riding a bicycle east on Suttenfield, but the dispatcher then asked what kind of vehicle he was driving. Maybe I just said bike, and he thought it was a motorcycle.
Anyway, soon after getting off the phone, my information came over the scanner. I went back out to watch and noticed that the squad cars had now moved a bit further to the west, almost to Lafayette Street. So I’m standing out there watching as the bicyclist came riding back to the area. It was definitely the same guy and he was now heading west, directly towards the two parked police cars. I called back to give this information, making sure they understood that the man who was now coming upon the officers from the rear was the same one who had just left the area after the shots were fired.
I went back out a minute later and this is what I saw. The two police cars were gone from the area, and the bicyclist was parked on the sidewalk just a few yards away from the original site of the shooting. Needless to say, I did not call back to report this.
I’m starting to think maybe I should sell tickets for people to come and visit my house. It’s definitely a unique experience.
He really didn’t seem in too big of a hurry, and I wasn’t even certain that the shots came from the area he was riding away from, so I just watched. Within a couple minutes, two squad cars showed up. Both went to the intersection of Suttenfield and Caroline streets ( a little less than a block to the west of me). One of the officers was searching the ground, so I stepped out a bit thinking that one of them or another officer might see me and ask what I saw. They didn’t, and I decided I’d go ahead and call in my information.
I have learned from experience that the person answering the phone does not always know exactly what is going on, so I began by simply stating “You have a couple of police cars here at Suttenfield and Caroline Street, checking on the shots fired. I saw someone leaving that area just after the shots were fired and I wanted to pass this information on to your officers.” Well, it took a minute for him to realize that he actually did have officers on the scene, but then he was ready to take my information. As I described the person, I’m pretty sure that I stated he was riding a bicycle east on Suttenfield, but the dispatcher then asked what kind of vehicle he was driving. Maybe I just said bike, and he thought it was a motorcycle.
Anyway, soon after getting off the phone, my information came over the scanner. I went back out to watch and noticed that the squad cars had now moved a bit further to the west, almost to Lafayette Street. So I’m standing out there watching as the bicyclist came riding back to the area. It was definitely the same guy and he was now heading west, directly towards the two parked police cars. I called back to give this information, making sure they understood that the man who was now coming upon the officers from the rear was the same one who had just left the area after the shots were fired.
I went back out a minute later and this is what I saw. The two police cars were gone from the area, and the bicyclist was parked on the sidewalk just a few yards away from the original site of the shooting. Needless to say, I did not call back to report this.
I’m starting to think maybe I should sell tickets for people to come and visit my house. It’s definitely a unique experience.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
The Tide Begins To Turn: October 20-21, 2006
It doesn’t take long for information to circulate in my neighborhood, and by later in the afternoon I was already noticing a slight change in the atmosphere. There were still a lot of people about in the neighborhood, but they exhibited a different attitude towards me. Rather than glaring or shouting menacing comments at me, they would just casually pass by without even looking my way. It quickly became apparent that there was an organized effort to show less hostility towards me. The only question I had was whether it was sincere or just a ruse to convince me to let my guard down.
For the past three days, I had not been away from my house for more than an hour or so at a time. I went to the store or bought something to eat, then quickly came back home. I spent a lot of time outside, walking about my property and the immediate area. It was a coincidence that I had just recently quit my job to go back to school. If it was not for this, I would not have been able to maintain this vigilance and it is likely that this would have invited someone to come back and finish off my house while I was away.
After three days of being harangued though, my stress level was almost to it’s limit. I needed to take a break, so I met a friend for diner and tried to just forget about the problems here. As it began to get dark outside, I knew that my absence would provide a good opportunity for someone to strike. I think a small part of me actually wanted this to happen. If I came home to find the house burnt down to the ground, I certainly would have been upset. But I also would have had little choice to leave then and that would have ended the problem.
I finally decided to come home around ten in the evening. The neighborhood was quieter than it had been anytime during the past several days. I walked through my back yard to check on things, then went around front to go inside. There was not a soul in sight except for Arlen, so I walked over and sat down on his porch. As we sat talking quietly, Arlen said “there’s one of them now,” and nodded towards Sheldon who was walking on the sidewalk towards us.
Sheldon crossed the street before he got to us and when he started walking down the sidewalk there, something really interesting occurred. A truck turned the corner and slowed down beside him. Sheldon turned to it and said loudly “No, Do not stop here, never stop on this corner.” He kept walking and pointed forward, as the truck followed along.
It was difficult to hold it in, but as soon as Sheldon was out of range, Arlen and I both started laughing out loud. Arlen slapped his leg and said “Damn, you got him working for you now.” I replied “I don’t want him working for me. I just want him to quit selling drugs in front of my house.” Well, at this point it was starting to look like the guys here had decided to try and accommodate me. I went to sleep that evening a little more relaxed, but still wondering exactly how things would sort out.
The next morning I saw Kent down the street and I walked over to him. I asked if we could talk for a minute and he stepped away from his friends. I began by apologizing for my confrontational attitude with him the other day. I went on to explain that I thought my behavior should be somewhat understandable after what had just happened here, but that I think I had unfairly directed my anger at him. He shook my hand and said to forget about it.
There are several reasons why I apologized to Kent. First of all, he is Rosalyn’s son, and she has always treated me good. But just as important was the fact that I had never had any real problems with Kent before. I do suspect that he sells drugs, based on the company he keeps, but the truth is I really don’t know this for sure. If he does sell, he certainly doesn’t do it while standing in my yard or even in front of my house. In fact, my anger that day was not even caused by him, but by the guys who I knew sold drugs on this corner who were hanging around my home again. Kent just happened to be the first person I ran into, so I directed my anger there.
But the main reason I apologized to Kent was because of Officer Marshall. After making it clear that he didn’t give a damn if my house was burnt down, I realized the burden was upon me to come to some sort of understanding with the guys here. Too many enemies can be a real problem, so I had to adjust my strategy a bit. While I might not like anybody who sells drugs, the reality of the situation dictated that I rate these guys according to how obnoxious they are and deal with them accordingly. Whether Kent was a drug dealer or not was irrelevant. He was not causing me problems, so I needed to make sure he understood that I would not be causing him problems.
Later that evening, another turning point was reached. I was inside the house and had the front door open (I have a screen door) when I heard someone outside call my name loudly. I didn’t recognize the voice, so I tucked my gun in my waistband and went to check. When I first saw that Sherrod was standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, I thought he was there to confront me because it had only been a week since I had called the police on him. When I stepped onto the porch, I was mentally prepared for the possibility that someone might come from either side of my house. And as crazy as this might sound, my adrenaline was still pumping enough that I just didn’t give a damn.
I just looked at Sherrod and said “What’s going on?” He asked if he could step up to speak with me for a moment and I invited him onto my property. I walked down the steps to meet him, as this allowed me to better see if anyone might be on the sides of my house. It appeared that no one but Sherrod and I were out there as he began to speak. He really surprised me when he started out by saying “I just wanted to explain myself to you. I didn’t mean you any disrespect the other day.”
I explained that the activities in front of my house were going on virtually non-stop. I said that things were getting out of hand, and this might be causing me to over-react at times. He said he understood what I was saying and that I was right in asking people to respect my house. Well, first Sheldon puts off making a sale in front of my house, then Kent graciously accepts my apology for my misguided anger, and now Sherrod actually comes up to my house and calls me outside for the express purpose of apologizing to me.
By the next day, things were getting back to normal. The guys who had recently been ignoring me, and only a few days before had been looking like they wanted to kill me, were now just casually walking past and saying hello as if nothing had ever happened. I can’t undo the fact that somebody tried to burn my house down. The best I can hope for is that it doesn’t happen again. And now, it was starting to look like it probably wouldn’t.
UPCOMING POSTS
Wednesday: Turning To The Other Front
Friday: Searching For Signs Of Intelligent Life
For the past three days, I had not been away from my house for more than an hour or so at a time. I went to the store or bought something to eat, then quickly came back home. I spent a lot of time outside, walking about my property and the immediate area. It was a coincidence that I had just recently quit my job to go back to school. If it was not for this, I would not have been able to maintain this vigilance and it is likely that this would have invited someone to come back and finish off my house while I was away.
After three days of being harangued though, my stress level was almost to it’s limit. I needed to take a break, so I met a friend for diner and tried to just forget about the problems here. As it began to get dark outside, I knew that my absence would provide a good opportunity for someone to strike. I think a small part of me actually wanted this to happen. If I came home to find the house burnt down to the ground, I certainly would have been upset. But I also would have had little choice to leave then and that would have ended the problem.
I finally decided to come home around ten in the evening. The neighborhood was quieter than it had been anytime during the past several days. I walked through my back yard to check on things, then went around front to go inside. There was not a soul in sight except for Arlen, so I walked over and sat down on his porch. As we sat talking quietly, Arlen said “there’s one of them now,” and nodded towards Sheldon who was walking on the sidewalk towards us.
Sheldon crossed the street before he got to us and when he started walking down the sidewalk there, something really interesting occurred. A truck turned the corner and slowed down beside him. Sheldon turned to it and said loudly “No, Do not stop here, never stop on this corner.” He kept walking and pointed forward, as the truck followed along.
It was difficult to hold it in, but as soon as Sheldon was out of range, Arlen and I both started laughing out loud. Arlen slapped his leg and said “Damn, you got him working for you now.” I replied “I don’t want him working for me. I just want him to quit selling drugs in front of my house.” Well, at this point it was starting to look like the guys here had decided to try and accommodate me. I went to sleep that evening a little more relaxed, but still wondering exactly how things would sort out.
The next morning I saw Kent down the street and I walked over to him. I asked if we could talk for a minute and he stepped away from his friends. I began by apologizing for my confrontational attitude with him the other day. I went on to explain that I thought my behavior should be somewhat understandable after what had just happened here, but that I think I had unfairly directed my anger at him. He shook my hand and said to forget about it.
There are several reasons why I apologized to Kent. First of all, he is Rosalyn’s son, and she has always treated me good. But just as important was the fact that I had never had any real problems with Kent before. I do suspect that he sells drugs, based on the company he keeps, but the truth is I really don’t know this for sure. If he does sell, he certainly doesn’t do it while standing in my yard or even in front of my house. In fact, my anger that day was not even caused by him, but by the guys who I knew sold drugs on this corner who were hanging around my home again. Kent just happened to be the first person I ran into, so I directed my anger there.
But the main reason I apologized to Kent was because of Officer Marshall. After making it clear that he didn’t give a damn if my house was burnt down, I realized the burden was upon me to come to some sort of understanding with the guys here. Too many enemies can be a real problem, so I had to adjust my strategy a bit. While I might not like anybody who sells drugs, the reality of the situation dictated that I rate these guys according to how obnoxious they are and deal with them accordingly. Whether Kent was a drug dealer or not was irrelevant. He was not causing me problems, so I needed to make sure he understood that I would not be causing him problems.
Later that evening, another turning point was reached. I was inside the house and had the front door open (I have a screen door) when I heard someone outside call my name loudly. I didn’t recognize the voice, so I tucked my gun in my waistband and went to check. When I first saw that Sherrod was standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, I thought he was there to confront me because it had only been a week since I had called the police on him. When I stepped onto the porch, I was mentally prepared for the possibility that someone might come from either side of my house. And as crazy as this might sound, my adrenaline was still pumping enough that I just didn’t give a damn.
I just looked at Sherrod and said “What’s going on?” He asked if he could step up to speak with me for a moment and I invited him onto my property. I walked down the steps to meet him, as this allowed me to better see if anyone might be on the sides of my house. It appeared that no one but Sherrod and I were out there as he began to speak. He really surprised me when he started out by saying “I just wanted to explain myself to you. I didn’t mean you any disrespect the other day.”
I explained that the activities in front of my house were going on virtually non-stop. I said that things were getting out of hand, and this might be causing me to over-react at times. He said he understood what I was saying and that I was right in asking people to respect my house. Well, first Sheldon puts off making a sale in front of my house, then Kent graciously accepts my apology for my misguided anger, and now Sherrod actually comes up to my house and calls me outside for the express purpose of apologizing to me.
By the next day, things were getting back to normal. The guys who had recently been ignoring me, and only a few days before had been looking like they wanted to kill me, were now just casually walking past and saying hello as if nothing had ever happened. I can’t undo the fact that somebody tried to burn my house down. The best I can hope for is that it doesn’t happen again. And now, it was starting to look like it probably wouldn’t.
UPCOMING POSTS
Wednesday: Turning To The Other Front
Friday: Searching For Signs Of Intelligent Life
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Thank God For The Fourth Estate - A Local Newspaper’s Perspective: October 20, 2006
I have previously written about my interactions with the Frost Illustrated newspaper concerning the problems here. If they didn’t want to look into this story, then I figured nobody else probably would. The day after my home was attacked, there was a short article in a local paper. It gave only the most basic information and would probably be missed by many and soon forgotten by those who did read it. I just assumed that was the end of the story.
I was pleasantly surprised a few days later when Frank Gray, of the local newspaper, called me at home and asked if he could stop by to interview me about the situation here. I have always viewed Frank as an ombudsman of sorts. He holds no legal authority, but his ability to focus the public spotlight can bring results. I saw his telephone call as a really good sign.
Frank arrived at around three in the afternoon. Before I allowed him to enter my home, I explained the situation a bit. I had barely slept for the past three days and my house was really a mess. He agreed not to mention that fact in his story. We spoke for about forty minutes. I did most of the talking, with Frank directing me occasionally with specific questions. I had to apologize a few times for getting way off topic, but there was just too much to say.
After the interview, we stepped outside so Frank could take a picture of me standing beside my house. There were several people standing around that looked at us, some just curiously, others more menacingly. Frank scanned the area then turned to me and asked “Is this typical here?” I told him that there was actually more activity since before the attack. I also explained that I had seen a lot of unfamiliar faces here in the last two days and I took that as a bad sign.
I noticed Harry standing across the street. He was down the block when Frank and I first went outside, but had now moved to the corner and appeared to be curious about what was happening on this side of the street. Harry is one of the older dealers who I have gotten to know a bit over the years. I called to him, asking him if we could speak for a moment, and he walked over to where we were standing. I knew that Frank’s appearance, as well as the newspaper article itself, would be talked about here. I decided it would be best if I got a chance to put my own spin on it first.
I explained that Frank was from the newspaper, and that he was doing a story about our neighborhood. I said that since he was going to do the story whether or not I talked with him, I thought it was best to make sure he got the facts straight. I told Harry I had explained to Frank that what goes on here is no secret, and that it probably would continue. I said there were a lot of older gentlemen here who conduct their business quietly and discreetly, but the kids just make a lot of noise and cause problems for everyone. Frank seemed to catch on that I was subtly identifying Harry as one of these “older gentlemen”, and he asked Harry if he agreed with what I said. Harry replied “These kids are just too noisy. They need to quiet down.”
I think what I did here was a very good move. These guys know that media coverage will bring extra police attention, at least for a little while, so I automatically had Harry‘s attention. Then, I took this opportunity to reiterate my earlier message that I had delivered to Carl. - I am not against the drug dealers so much as I am against the noise. And just like with Carl, I later saw Harry talking with some of the younger guys here and I assumed they were talking about how they should respond to my latest overtures.
Frank’s article came out the following weekend. For the most part, I was very impressed. He took a bunch of rambling and disjointed comments that were laced with a lot of emotion and translated them into a cohesive and intelligible story. This makes Frank a good writer, but it takes more than that to be a great journalist. What Frank’s article lacked was comprehensiveness. Now I am not complaining here about a few minor details being left out. What I am saying is that Frank actually told only half the story. He did a good job of summarizing my struggles against the drug dealers, but he made absolutely no mention of the problems I have had with FWPD and how this has contributed to the problems here.
I sent Frank a quick e-mail saying as much. I complemented him for being able to tell my own story better than I could. But I also reminded him about the problems with the police and asked if he might like to ask a few more questions about this aspect of the situation here. It is hard to imagine that someone who writes as good as Frank does could have accidentally missed half of what I was saying, and I think his failure to respond to my e-mail further supports my belief that it was intentional. One can only speculate about the reasons why, but my assumption is that it stems from a lack of courage to confront or offend those in power.
So Frank helped to let all of Fort Wayne know about the problems the drug dealers were causing here, but he entirely neglected to mention the fact that FWPD was largely responsible for this problem having grown so big. I did speak with Frank one more time about this matter, but I will leave that for a few posts on down the line. However, what I’ve said here should be enough for you to understand how our “local newspaper” sometimes operates. It’s certainly nice to know that the fourth estate is working hard to give a voice to the powerless individual who is being harmed by the ineptitude of governmental agencies such as FWPD.
Seriously though, it appears that when it comes to challenging powerful people, they draw the line at fishmongers. So if you read “A local newspaper,” you will be warned of unscrupulous substitution of fish in the restaurants, but they will not bother to tell you that a member of the Fort Wayne Police Department’s Command Staff appears to be acting in collusion with the guys who openly sell crack cocaine on the streets of your city.
Well, at least they’ve got their priorities straight. I sure can’t wait till they tell me who to vote for this year. Wait, I don’t have to. I’ll just read the blogs before they steel a quote from there to find out what they are going to say. I honestly do thank God for the Fourth Estate - I just think it’s too bad that Fort Wayne doesn’t have one.
Note: Keep in mind that, like my views on FWPD, my asessment of our local media is always being revised. But the bottom line is this: The majority of those who comprise Fort Wayne's news media are either unaware of my story or just unwilling to discuss it. If it's the former, then they are extremely ignorant. If it's the later, then they appear to be cowards. Either way, this makes them not at all dissimilar to FWPD's Command Staff.
UPCOMING POSTS
Monday: The Tide Begins To Turn
Wednesday: Turning To The Other Front
I was pleasantly surprised a few days later when Frank Gray, of the local newspaper, called me at home and asked if he could stop by to interview me about the situation here. I have always viewed Frank as an ombudsman of sorts. He holds no legal authority, but his ability to focus the public spotlight can bring results. I saw his telephone call as a really good sign.
Frank arrived at around three in the afternoon. Before I allowed him to enter my home, I explained the situation a bit. I had barely slept for the past three days and my house was really a mess. He agreed not to mention that fact in his story. We spoke for about forty minutes. I did most of the talking, with Frank directing me occasionally with specific questions. I had to apologize a few times for getting way off topic, but there was just too much to say.
After the interview, we stepped outside so Frank could take a picture of me standing beside my house. There were several people standing around that looked at us, some just curiously, others more menacingly. Frank scanned the area then turned to me and asked “Is this typical here?” I told him that there was actually more activity since before the attack. I also explained that I had seen a lot of unfamiliar faces here in the last two days and I took that as a bad sign.
I noticed Harry standing across the street. He was down the block when Frank and I first went outside, but had now moved to the corner and appeared to be curious about what was happening on this side of the street. Harry is one of the older dealers who I have gotten to know a bit over the years. I called to him, asking him if we could speak for a moment, and he walked over to where we were standing. I knew that Frank’s appearance, as well as the newspaper article itself, would be talked about here. I decided it would be best if I got a chance to put my own spin on it first.
I explained that Frank was from the newspaper, and that he was doing a story about our neighborhood. I said that since he was going to do the story whether or not I talked with him, I thought it was best to make sure he got the facts straight. I told Harry I had explained to Frank that what goes on here is no secret, and that it probably would continue. I said there were a lot of older gentlemen here who conduct their business quietly and discreetly, but the kids just make a lot of noise and cause problems for everyone. Frank seemed to catch on that I was subtly identifying Harry as one of these “older gentlemen”, and he asked Harry if he agreed with what I said. Harry replied “These kids are just too noisy. They need to quiet down.”
I think what I did here was a very good move. These guys know that media coverage will bring extra police attention, at least for a little while, so I automatically had Harry‘s attention. Then, I took this opportunity to reiterate my earlier message that I had delivered to Carl. - I am not against the drug dealers so much as I am against the noise. And just like with Carl, I later saw Harry talking with some of the younger guys here and I assumed they were talking about how they should respond to my latest overtures.
Frank’s article came out the following weekend. For the most part, I was very impressed. He took a bunch of rambling and disjointed comments that were laced with a lot of emotion and translated them into a cohesive and intelligible story. This makes Frank a good writer, but it takes more than that to be a great journalist. What Frank’s article lacked was comprehensiveness. Now I am not complaining here about a few minor details being left out. What I am saying is that Frank actually told only half the story. He did a good job of summarizing my struggles against the drug dealers, but he made absolutely no mention of the problems I have had with FWPD and how this has contributed to the problems here.
I sent Frank a quick e-mail saying as much. I complemented him for being able to tell my own story better than I could. But I also reminded him about the problems with the police and asked if he might like to ask a few more questions about this aspect of the situation here. It is hard to imagine that someone who writes as good as Frank does could have accidentally missed half of what I was saying, and I think his failure to respond to my e-mail further supports my belief that it was intentional. One can only speculate about the reasons why, but my assumption is that it stems from a lack of courage to confront or offend those in power.
So Frank helped to let all of Fort Wayne know about the problems the drug dealers were causing here, but he entirely neglected to mention the fact that FWPD was largely responsible for this problem having grown so big. I did speak with Frank one more time about this matter, but I will leave that for a few posts on down the line. However, what I’ve said here should be enough for you to understand how our “local newspaper” sometimes operates. It’s certainly nice to know that the fourth estate is working hard to give a voice to the powerless individual who is being harmed by the ineptitude of governmental agencies such as FWPD.
Seriously though, it appears that when it comes to challenging powerful people, they draw the line at fishmongers. So if you read “A local newspaper,” you will be warned of unscrupulous substitution of fish in the restaurants, but they will not bother to tell you that a member of the Fort Wayne Police Department’s Command Staff appears to be acting in collusion with the guys who openly sell crack cocaine on the streets of your city.
Well, at least they’ve got their priorities straight. I sure can’t wait till they tell me who to vote for this year. Wait, I don’t have to. I’ll just read the blogs before they steel a quote from there to find out what they are going to say. I honestly do thank God for the Fourth Estate - I just think it’s too bad that Fort Wayne doesn’t have one.
Note: Keep in mind that, like my views on FWPD, my asessment of our local media is always being revised. But the bottom line is this: The majority of those who comprise Fort Wayne's news media are either unaware of my story or just unwilling to discuss it. If it's the former, then they are extremely ignorant. If it's the later, then they appear to be cowards. Either way, this makes them not at all dissimilar to FWPD's Command Staff.
UPCOMING POSTS
Monday: The Tide Begins To Turn
Wednesday: Turning To The Other Front
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