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.
