Picture by John Hoff of a "shoe tree." Why? Because nobody is in charge of a shoe tree. Because it defies law and order. Because it is anarchy. Because it is the best picture I had available on such short notice, so I grabbed one, almost at random. Chaos.The following info is from a highly-placed but anonymous source high in city government, and came in the form of an email...
Tomorrow at about 1200 noon the "Apartment Complex of Anarchy"
is being vacated and secured by police and regulatory services. We
cannot board it yet (by law we can only lock it up for now). As soon
as someone breaks in then we can board it. In any event...there will
be no one living there and therefore no reason for anyone to hang
out there. That will make it easier for us to take action if dealers are
lurking about.
Best Regards,
Commander Tough Glove
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just to be clear, that last part is my little name for him, since I'm pretty sure this is the same officer who told me the anecdote about the guy with the crack cocaine shoved up his butt, so I've decided to use this nickname for him. I would be incredibly pleased if more information came my way from this source. He can even pick a different moniker, if he likes.
Oh, I love the way he used my nickname for the 3101 6th Street North, though!
Oh, some further reports I can file at this late hour, before getting some sleep and finishing a term paper I have due to tomorrow (extended deadline, thank you Professor Nancy Eustis) about theoretical expansion of the membership base of a veteran's organization.
* I called the landlord for 416 31st Avenue North and let her know about the crack cocaine arrest there of a person--Charelle Davis, age 18--who listed that place as her permanent address. And obviously, Davis knew the place pretty well, enough to know the rain eve outside the second story was a good place to hide dope, except this time a cop was watching from the rear of the property, too bad for her.
The landlord--I won't name her, quite yet--said she was "shocked." She asked me how to spell the name of the woman who was arrested. I started to give her some details when she suddenly said she had to call me back and, of course, didn't.
Well, that's OK. I passed around her number to a few folks, though I wasn't the first one to have the number. I admit, it was a blog poster who mentioned contacting the landlords which got me motivated to get right on this.
Maybe later I can contact a few more landlords but, for now, this landlord has property on my northern perimeter--a problem property at that, for the past few years--so it was important to contact that landlord before all the other landlords...if I can find any of them. If those addresses the arrestees list are even VALID. Mister Lake might list an address somewhere, but everybody knows he lives in abandoned buildings, so I'm sure it won't do me much good to contact somebody who--at best--might be a former landlord.
* There were cops all over the block last night, watching a gang house party taking place on the southern perimeter. Peter said it was great to see so many cops. I was driving back to Peter's place to pick up a CAN OF MONEY which I forgot at his place--and Peter put it aside for me, literally every penny--and when I rounded the corner, I tried to drive quickly to avoid a couple pedestrians, so they wouldn't kick my car, spit at it, etcetera.
And then I saw flashing lights in my back window. BUSTED!
Fortunately, the officers accepted what I said about why I had coasted through the stop sign, because I was worried about the pedestrians, and after checking my license they let me go and THANKED ME for making 911 calls on the block.
Peter Teachout was watching from his porch, laughing. He said we made so many calls and got all those cops busting drug deals on the block and now look what happens. I got myself caught in the dragnet. Well, I had no complaints. Sit at that stop sign and pull over everybody who coasts through it. That's fine with me. They'll catch some interesting fish, that's for sure.
* Peter called me this afternoon about 430 30th Avenue, which Little Jane calls "The Mexican House" and Peter referred to as "The Spanish House." First of all, he wanted to know how I knew its nicknames. I told him I'd acquired the neighborhood knowledge from Little Jane, and I'd actually seen an image of the Latino family captured by Google earth.
Well, he said, was anybody in the house? Recently? Because there were about 15 young black kids taking over the lawn right now.
I told Peter NOBODY was supposed to be in that house and it had been vacant as of yesterday. Furthermore, didn't the Latino family still own it? Call the police, I told him.
Peter said there was already a police car sitting nearby, watching, but perhaps they were unaware the house wasn't supposed to be occupied.
CALL THEM, I told Peter. Tell them the house and yard isn't supposed to be occupied. Yes, I said, your hunch is correct. It was vacant as of YESTERDAY. I patrolled, I went by it, and it was vacant. So call the cops and pass on the information.
Peter said he would do so, but he needed to go off to church because he had his "ministry."
THIS IS YOUR MINISTRY RIGHT HERE, PETER, I told him. He laughed in the superior way of those who know earthly things do not matter--la dee da--but he said he'd call the police before he left for church. After looking up the property on the city property search and confirming it was still owned by some individuals with the last name "Morales," I called up the Fourth Precinct and passed on some information.
The house was supposed to be VACANT, I said. It was vacant YESTERDAY, which I confirmed because IT'S MY BLOCK and I patrol it daily. The house is owned by an Alejandro Morales, and is well known to be owned by Mister Morales, so there is no reason for 15 young black kids to be in the yard. They might be the same group of 15 black kids who busted into 415 30th across the street just a couple days ago, crapped in the toilet while the water was turned off, put gang graffiti on the back banister, and generally frolicked about.
The officer who answered the phone confirmed they had a squad at that location. Well, I said, tell your squad THAT GROUP IS TRESPASSING. The house is owned by Mister Morales and he has never invited 15 black youth to lounge in his yard and, perhaps, break down the front door as they did with 415 30th. Please pass that on to your squad car. THEY ARE TRESPASSING.
And the officer said he would pass it on. So I called Peter back and told him the deal. For such a minor act as this, Peter said, "You're awesome."
"Church of the Dead Bolt Lock,"I said. Peter insisted one way or another, he was going to find a way to get me to his church. I said while he was in church, criminals were "frolicking around inside the perimeter." Peter said, hey, it was his neighborhood, too. I conceded he had been there, and I was, after all, away right now myself doing some other thing.
I just see very little evidence that while I am away, and Peter is away, God Himself steps in and watches over the block. I mean, unless you count the fact the whole block does not blaze up in a spectacular conflagration as evidence of divine intervention, as far as I can tell, the block is on its own unless human beings are keeping watch. God is busy. God is watching over the southern metro suburbs and, for the record, I have no complaints about THAT.
No comments:
Post a Comment