Welcome to the hood, White man

Week two - I did enough plumbing to be able to (on the second try) get the water turned on and be able flush a toilet at the press of a lever - life is good.  I bought more light bulbs and got the lighting working in several rooms.  The cold weather broke and inside temperature rose to 55 degrees; long sleeves needed but none the less comfortable.  My yard and the entire block is filled with giant majestic trees; I could sit on the peaceful front porch and watch them for hours.  There are many other amenities of entertainment on the block - gunfire, many times whole clips; the paint peeling sounds of a drunk grandmother verbally assaulting her two (grown) children and six (grown) grandchildren who have no jobs and spend their time "Chilin" in her house, running up the bills.  There were very few dull moments in those times; probably because this place was a totally foreign land.

Week three - with all the amenities of primitive civilization, warmer weather, and an expired lease at the apartment, "T" moved in to a room on the second floor.  The next day, we got our "Welcome to the hood" unplanned event.

It was about 12:30 AM and I was on the third floor unpacking boxes; the temperature dropped outside but the house held heat fairly well; I think it was 48 degrees inside.  I had a light coat and hood on to keep my head warm.  "T" was in the front room fixing something in the microwave.  Suddenly there was a very loud knock on the door.

I walked to the front of the house and said "Is that somebody at the door T?", "Yeah".  I yelled "Who is it?” the response came back in loud black male voice "Police".  Hugh - what an odd time to be visited by the police?  My mind started racing; wouldn't that be the perfect thing to say if you were a band of criminals wanting to invade someone's home.  O.k. think clearly - defensive plan in place; open the door slowly but don't step out, if it's actually the police, surely he/she will be standing there to tell me what's the business.  Door open slowly, no-one is standing outside the door.

"Oh boy" I thought.  I didn't say anything because if it was an assailant, that would give him a position knowledge advantage.  I raised my hands opened face to chest level - insurance, 1) Police: I'm definitely not holding a weapon. 2) Assailant: hands in a good ready position to block/push.  

Half inch by half inch, very slowly I moved forward, looking both ways with each extra degree of visibility through the door.  It felt like half an hour, but was more likely about 90 seconds.  It was dead silent outside.  Finally with one more slight advance; look left, look right - WHAM: twenty feet away was a huge black man in the shadow of the big tree with a hand gun pointed directly at me.  I didn't flinch, I didn't move, I just froze and stared at him.  He moved forward a couple of feet out of the shadow of a tree and I could now see his police uniform and badge.  After staring at each other for a seaming eternity; I calmly said "Can I help you officer?” The big guy didn't say anything; a few seconds later, I hear another man's voice from about 8 feet to my left, still out of sight; "Please remove your hood.”  I complied without any sudden movement.

As soon as they realized I was an older white guy who was smiling (happy it was an officer behind the gun, and reveling in the delight of telling all my co-workers about the irony of living in a high crime area and having my first "big-man with gun drawn pointed at me" experience served by Birmingham's finest.), it was like a cloud of fear and tension disappeared and the sun started shining.  The big guy was noticeably relieved, lowered his weapon and holstered it.  The other officer (white) came out from behind the bush on the left and holstered his weapon.

They walked over and explained I was suspected of being a burglar.  This is a little comical since most burglars don't turn on the power and duct-tape the broken windows and have lots of boxes in the middle of unpacking.  I gave them the benefit of the doubt.  They explained that there had been a burglary at my then vacant house about a month ago where some kids were stealing pipes and they had caused a gas leak that involved the fire department breaking the doors to prevent an explosion.   Wow, I knew all the locks had been busted between the time I paid for the house and the month it took it to close, but I didn't realize that had happened.

They ran my driver's license over the radio - I came back too clean.  The dispatcher's voice on the radio had an obvious concern "I don't have anything on this guy; nothing?"  I smiled and explained to the officers that not only had I ever knowingly committed a crime, I've never been suspected of committing a crime; well, once I had smoked a cigarette in a no-smoking area.  I didn't see the sign; luckily authorities were not present at the time.  Then they ran "T"'s license - felony murder, recently released from prison; now they had something to talk about...

After a few more questions, I offered to show them my deed/title to the house, offered to let them search for any evidence of wrongdoing, etc.  They declined and seemed perfectly happy to carry on in lighthearted conversation for a few minutes.  Finally, they apologized for any inconvenience; I thanked them for their service to the community.  We shook hands, and they left.

This is only the beginning of the story.  That whole interchange only took about 30 minutes.  I went back inside the house and immediately put blinds on the windows in my room; a cruiser drives through the alley behind my house (at that time) about once an hour - I'd just assume not have another one of these experiences with different officers in the next hour.

After putting the blinds up, I went out to the front porch to smoke and noticed a vehicle behind mine, no lights on, running.  I looked around the bushes and saw that it was a police cruiser.  Not wanting the officers to panic or think that I was sneaking around on my porch, I walked out into their plain view in the light and waved at them.  Immediately, they turned their lights on and whipped up to where I was standing at high speed.  The passenger officer rolled down his window and I saw it was the big guy from earlier.  He called my name and motioned me towards the car.  I kind of expected they had forgotten to tell me something or I was supposed to sign something but when I got to about two feet from the window, he half yelled - step away from the car and we are going to pat you down for our safety.

Hm.  They hop out of the car, holster their batons and pat me down.  "We need to see you drivers license", ok.  I handed it to the big guy.  He proceeded to read every piece of information on the license and ask me a question about it.  "This address is in Vestavia and now you're living here, why is that?” I just moved recently and haven't had time to change it.  "Tell me how you get to this address and where it's located."  ok, "you take hwy 65 south, then 459 north, then exit at, etc.etc."  

He had about 6 core questions about my age, life, location, profession, work, and spent approximately 45 minutes asking them (with exactly the same wording) over and over.   I remember smiling to myself thinking, "I've faced tougher customers than you plenty of times; I can go all night long."  It was my first "interrogation" - after I wore him down, he finally told me why they had returned.  I was under investigation for suspicion of having a forged driver's license.  I've lived in Alabama for 24+ years and have never had a traffic ticket or been in an accident.  That's not unusual where I grew up.  At any rate, the officers were now a little timid; almost chagrined - when their perception was upgraded from burglar to "white collar criminal", I think they were a little excited.  They'd have a story for their co-workers; unfortunately it didn't pan out.

Then after they thanked me for my cooperation, as they were walking back to the cruiser, their dispatcher comes on the radio - czzk - "Are you positive he's not setting up a meth lab?", the big guy replies (in a disappointed voice) "No, we're sure." - I had to bite my tongue so hard to keep from laughing out loud.

It was now 2:00 am and I was "wired" in the adrenalin of this new experience and very thankful for the God's protection and provision.  I left a voice mail for my supervisor at work; he commented later "That's the most original excuse you've ever come up with for being late."  But the night was not quite over.

About 2:30 am, I was sitting on the porch pondering this brave new world I had jumped into and what? - no way, Really?  The officers are back.  o.k., I'm game.  I walked out to the sidewalk, laid my coat on the ground, raised my hands, and with a straight face asked the big guy "Do you need to pat me down for your safety officer?"  The look both of them had for me was priceless; I hurt their feelings.  "I'm sorry officers, what can I do for you?”  They were not aggressive at this point; they worked half a shift on me and came up with nothing to brag about - and on top of that had the full knowledge I would be talking about them for weeks.  I felt bad.  I threw them a bone and told them all about "T"'s interesting past; at least now they had something interesting to talk to their co-workers about.

So, they put me under surveillance for about a week - whenever I went to the store after 8:00, then on returning, they would roll up on me in front of the house before I got out of the car - they rolled down their window.  "Hello Mr. B, are you doing all right tonight?", and I would say something like "Yes I am - such a nice quiet night tonight; I really appreciate the work you are doing - it gives me a great peace of mind to know your duty."  Oh the irony, but I said it sincerely.  And it's true; gun fire was way down on the block while they were sitting there.

Epilogue

In the three years since this welcoming party, other than being pulled over for DWW (Driving While White), Birmingham’s finest has been good to me – they’ve responded  in 30 seconds or less every time I needed them.  This experience seemed unusual at the time, but I’ve since learned that they were simply sincerely and diligently trying to fight crime in the hood.