A few weeks ago I woke up at 4 am, because there were lights flashing in my room. (I am a light sleeper sometimes.) I looked out the window and discovered 3 cop cars in the cul-de-sac across the street from my house (*C). Since there has been a LOT of spouse-swapping apparently going on in the houses across the street from us, I just figured a few people got drunk after the football game and were having a good old-fashioned domestic disturbance. Or that someone had broken into the construction trailer and stolen some copper. No biggie.
I called the police station the next day and asked about the incident. The guy at the desk (I want to call him a desk sargeant, but who knows if that's just a TV thing?) had no idea what had happened.
"That's a good thing, though." He told me. If it had been anything major, he'd know about it. So I could call back after 11 pm if I wanted to, but not to worry.
Turns out he's a either a filthy liar, a douchebag, or a very smart cop.
It seems that a few days before the 4 am disco across the street, there was a shooting down the road(*B). Actually, it was on a road behind or neat a Wal-Mart, which adds no love to that place for me. Anyway, the dude left something on the windsheild of the car he shot through. A guy was shot in the neck, and I have no idea if he made it or not. The cops are being very stingy with details right now. So, dude left a calling card of sorts and then made a hasty get-away. A few days before that, he left the same calling card on some cars around the subdivision(*A). Once B got connected to A, C occured because the going theory is that there is a pyscho on the loose and targeting my low-middle-income boring-as-Wonderbread little subdivision. And yesterday, when my Mom came over to take my vitals, she mentioned that a house in the other part of the subdivision was surrounded by crime-scene tape and there were cops everywhere. Questioning people, even. I still don't know if that was connected or not.
So last night, on my way out to run some errands, as I was having a my first panic attack in quite a while, I couldn't remember if I had shut my garage door or not. I went back to check, and a cop immediately started following me. He was not subtle. And I think he was trying to be, which is sad. Anyway, after finally reaching someone to talk to on the phone in order to calm down, I stopped and asked him what was going on. Between what he told me and my neighbor, who's neighbor was one of the afforementioned marked people, I gathered the story above. Crack Journalist, Me. Guess how much that helped the anxiety attack? Lots, actually. Phantoms are much less scary when real scary is on the loose.
I'm hoping our neighborhood is a decoy. Or something. It just doean't make sense for this to happen here. Nothing happens here. There's no connection between dude that was shot and the people in our burb. After I finish here I'm off to the internet to see if I can dig up the story of the shooting and anything else related. Then I'm going to knit and call one of the newly recommended OBs and set up and interview. THEN I'm going to lay the hell down, after one of my munchkins goes off to preschool It's her first day back and she is SO excited! E is off with her Grandma to see Marley and Me, ugh, and then to stay the night. I'm going to a art supply store that is going out of business, and then back here to get the mountain of putrid laundry started. Jonn has class tonight, so I might even get to bed early!
And now you know. Weird old world, isn't it?