My heart almost flew apart in my chest a few minutes ago. I was coming down the stairs, after making the bed (somehow my job since 1992), and somebody started BANGING on the front door. Andy lost his shit, of course, and I was alarmed by the aggressiveness of the knocking. Was this a home invasion, or something??
Gulp. I opened the front door, while trying to block the hound with my legs. And two unsmiling cops were standing there. The floor of my ass nearly fell out.
Instantly I thought, “What have the boys done?!” Then: “Is somebody dead??” Two unsmiling cops on a front porch can flat-out stress a person’s circulatory system.
They told me they were investigating an incident that happened nearby. First question: Do you have any weapons in the house? I told them no, and they both stared at me for a beat too long. What the? They were sizing me up, trying to decide if I was lying or not.
I was also asked if I know the neighbors directly behind us. “I’ve never spoken to them,” I answered. There have been multiple families who’ve lived there through the years, and I don’t know the current people. At all.
There were other questions, like “Do you live here alone?” and that sort of thing. Eventually they softened a bit, and told me someone shot a .22 bullet through the upstairs window of a house near us, and it didn’t come from the street. They think it came from our yard, or the yard of the people who live behind us.
I have no idea. It happened last night, between 9 and 11, and everybody was home watching TV, except me. I was at work. I told them this, and they seemed to believe me. It was mildly unnerving at the beginning, though, when they acted like I was lying. I’m not a fan of the accusatory beat-too-long stare. Ya know?
I also don’t like the idea of people shooting guns all willy-nilly in our quiet little neighborhood. Or somebody using our back yard as their own personal Grassy Knoll. What the hell, man? Am I going to have to worry about Andy being assassinated, or something even worse? This is no good.
But, at least they weren’t here to deliver bad news. Eventually my heart returned to its normal rhythm, and I came down from the adrenaline spike. Sweet sainted mother of Cy Acosta!
Do you have any experience with unsmiling cops at your front door? If so, please tell us about it. Use the comments link below.
And have you ever noticed how people on shows like Law & Order always go about their normal business, while being grilled by a homicide detective? They might be painting a house, or stacking dishes in a restaurant or whatever, and never miss a beat — while being questioned about A MURDER. That’s utter bullshit. Those two guys today had my undivided attention, I’m here to tell ya. Wow!
Have yourselves a great day, my friends. I’m going back to work now.
See you again soon!
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself to something cool at Amazon!
TaDaaaa!
Cops are always unnerving.
I rarely interact with them but any time I do they are the ones who initiated it.
I never know if my almost Mexican sounding name is going to get me pepper sprayed and butt fisted or not.
These guys walk around with their hands on their hips, not even millimeters from their gun and their non-lethal Electrocutionater. But if I so much as scratch my hand rash they take it as an imminent threat on their life, the life of their spouse, and the American Way.
I appreciate what these guys do and that SOMETIMES their job can be dangerous, but if they are the ones approaching me, what with their body armor and utility belts, they are the threat.
If I’m dripping with blood and screaming that I want to kill the sun while running naked through a nursery school; then okay, be an intimidating cop. But I’m just walking back to my truck with a bunch of groceries strapped to my arms and wrists, get the fuck out the way. Don’t stop me and pepper me with questions like, “Is this your vehicle?”, “Where are you coming from?” and “Where are you going?’. This milk is getting heavy motherfucker, get out of my damn way. (this was my most recent encounter with a cop)
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You nailed it. I’m the smallest motherfucker on two feet that you ever saw, and I’m nowhere near as afraid of my shadow as most cops are.
A few years ago I was walking up the street to my building and noticed 4 cops standing around in front of the place. My first thought was someone broke into one of the apartments. It turns out they were checking on the old man who lived underneath me. One of the cops had his hand on his gun the whole time he was talking to me. That I found a bit odd.
I had to call the cops many times during the last year or so I lived there. But – I they never talked to me during any of those times. The calls had to do with people making noise, ramming into cars parked on the street, destroying mailboxes, burning furniture, etc. Which is why I moved after 20 years of living in the same place.
Wow. I was hoping somehow you’d manage some social interaction that you could share with us but damn, two pissed off cops at the front door? That beats all.
Years ago, during my college years, meaning I was college aged and had friends who went to actual college and not just the occasional weekend, I went to visit some friends at their university for a party. It was a kegger in a four story apartment building and we were on the third floor I think. And as any good kegger goes the longer the party goes the louder it gets. A neighbor called the cops and I just happened to be standing near the front door when they showed up. I also happened to be smoking a cig that had broken so I tore the filter off. First thing the cops do is grab it out of my mouth. I tell them to chill it’s just a Marlboro, they believe me and proceed to flip it in my glass of beer. I call them dickheads and they give me a ride to the police station and a disorderly conduct ticket. Good times.
So, I got this license to kill going for me here, ya know. Which is nice.
The few encounters I had with the police while growing up in Florida, 90% of them were pickled arseholes. I was developing a real good “F#*k you” stare whenever I had to deal with them.
Now I’m in Minnesota. I have to reel myself in, not because I fear a nut-tazering but because they are so damned polite up here.
You should have just confessed to the whole thing.
An important thing to remember: The cops are not your friends. They are not going to be there when you might need them, and they will most definitely harass you on every occasion that arises. I’m certain that almost everyone has a cop harassment story.
Cops are pricks.
A few years ago, late October, we were just sitting down to watch a baseball game and there was a knock on the door. Dude in a suit so I figured he was either a politician or a “Do you have Jesus in your life?” bible thumper. Turns out he was some special state trooper investigating some poor bastard who was foraging for mushrooms and got blasted by a pheasant hunter. Right up the road from us. I never heard a thing but I’m immune to the racket during hunting season.
Another time, we were visited by 2 unsmiling burlies. There is a Veteran’s Memorial park behind our house and someone had spray painted shit on a replica helicopter and tank.
And just last night I was rerouted 5 miles out of my way because they closed a section of road. Some nut job was driving erratically and when they pulled him over, he was covered in some kind of red liquid, had wires sticking out of his shirt, and his car had jugs of liquid, a car battery and walkie talkies. I guess he’ll be doing a long stint in the Hoo Ha Hotel.
***And FYI – my sister is a NYPD police Lieutenant and my niece is a patrol officer in the West Village. I understand about the unsmiling pricks.
I wouldn’t have answered the “weapons in the house” question…none of their damned business. Period
While living in Arizona in the 80’s a few detectives from California and a few Phoenix uniform officers stopped by looking for the murder suspect next door. They were very serious and ignored all of the marijuana clearly displayed in the living room. Allowing them to look around and being honest they appeared to be professional (in my opinion).
In a different incident (on an Easter Sunday) the cops came into the house with guns drawn looking for a suspect. They told us to stay in the house and used our ladder to climb on the roof. About 15 minutes later a friend stopped by and said he saw the cops beating the crap out of some guy they pulled out of the dumpster at the apartment complex a few blocks away. Sounds like they got their guy.
While jogging one evening I was spot lighted by the overhead helicopter and a few cars and uniform police stopped me. And I had to participate in an impromptu perp identification. Apparently a 7-11 was robbed and since I was running that made me a suspect. Luckily the person in the cop car said I was not the guy. I was really nervous and had no identification which makes cops even more aggressive.
I don’t get it. How do you open a door with someone banging on it without your sidearm in hand?
I would imagine being a cop is a lousy job with all the douche bags they regularly deal with, so I’m always very polite as I don’t cooperate with them.
As Ron White said, we have the right to remain silent, but not the ability.
If it’s the cops at the door, they’re liable to give you two in the chest the second they see that sidearm. Depending on where you live, and, unfortunately, how “ethnic” you look.
Damn, I need to install a door camera.
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The husband and I had the opposite problem. A murder was committed in our next door neighbor’s front yard. The cops NEVER came to talk to us. I’m glad that we weren’t suspects, but we were witnesses. Good solid police work there.
That shit about Law and Order…lmao. So true.
The first apartment for my first wife and I was a little rat’s nest on the ground floor of an old house, with a nice view of the driveway leading to the parking area in back. One morning as we were enjoying our coffee and a joint I’d just lit, an unmarked black van backed into the driveway at an alarming speed and burst open, spilling about eight fully-armed and obviously agitated SWAT officers right outside our window. I thought that was a little excessive for two white people smoking a joint in their own kitchen, and thankfully they apparently agreed, because they were there to kick in the door of our (completely unknown to us) next-door neighbors, who were crack dealers or something.
Later the landlord stopped by to see what had happened and answer some stern questions from some detectives, and he bitched at me for not calling him; he seemed to think if he’d been alerted he could’ve brought a key and let the cops in, thus avoiding the damage to the door he would have to now spend actual money to repair.
Some sound advice for all you other hicks:
If someone is beating the shit out of your door, don’t open it, even for the cops. If they have a warrant, they won’t knock, they will break it down.
Question: Do you have any weapons in the house?
Correct Answer: Blow me.
Cops are not your friends. They are not employed to protect you or your property. They are employed to write reports about crimes or get you into the system. PERIOD.
If you don’t have weapons in the house, you need to go shopping tomorrow morning.
PERIOD.
This., Read and re-read this.
About five or so years ago, a couple of cops started beating on my front door at two or three in the morning when I was in bed, but luckily not asleep yet. Turns out they were looking for the guy who had rented the house before my roommates and I. But shit, if you’re a chick home by yourself and someone starts pounding on your door in the middle of the night, you’re going to have a goddamn heart attack. They were Florida cops too, so they were extra douchey, and they didn’t even apologize for scaring the shit out of me. Dicks.
“But shit, if you’re a chick home by yourself and someone starts pounding on your door in the middle of the night” …works if you’re a guy too…
“Ahimsa, oh Johnny, ahimsa!
In the spinning confusion, ahimsa!
In the blood of life, death, and torture,
Ahimsa! Ahimsa! Ahimsa!
Ahimsa, is the seashell of Buddha.
Ahimsa, is the rose and the lamb.
When The Red Angel comes and the TV is cold
Will you pray in the dawn for the rest of your soul?
When you lie in the dour death coma,
Do you think you’re gonna go to heaven, oh Johnny,
With a violent heart? With a violent heart?
With a violent heart? With a violent heart?”
E. Sanders, T. Kupferberg, K. Weaver
The proper answer to “Do you have weapons in the house?” is:
“Do you have a warrant? Am I accused of a crime? If not, I will not answer your questions without my lawyer present.”
I’ve honestly never called the police in my life. Not once.
I had an incident that involved the police a few weeks ago. The neighbors noticed a “smell” and called the police, just like proper pricks are wont to do. Two of them pull up and then two more, and they’re grilling me with questions and started focusing on my car. They made me pop the trunk and yep, the dead body of a middle aged Mexican man in my trunk, single gunshot wound to the head. Thank God they said, “Son of a bitch. This guy crawls in your trunk and commits suicide? The fucking nerve!” And they left. With the body. Nice guys, those police.
Hey, Jason, shit happens.
Just remember kids: Think before you talk.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wXkI4t7nuc
I keep meaning to find out if we have the same sort of rights here in Canada. Probably not since I heard once even beloved hockey player, Guy Lafleur, got 2 minutes for looking so good.
A good, interesting listen and a good reminder regardless of which country you live in. I watched about 2 minutes of the rebuttal but the copy summed it up pretty well when he started saying “people are…” (no spoilers).
Similar but different. Been so long since I studied law I can’t remember the finer details, but the don’t volunteer more information than requested is just as true here.
I think I told this before but am too lazy to search… about my wife butt dialling 911 on her BB? And she needed to go but 911 insisted a cop be dispatched. Two lesbians (one actually bi – I hope) showed up. The butch one did not like me before I even opened the door and the bi lipstick lesbian with an Australian accent was more than nice enough. The first one scowled at me from the word go whereas the 2nd one spoke with me, not at me. They were satisfied with my explanation.
Even though I knew they were coming, I was still nervous as hell at 8:30 in the morning. Seeing two police cars outside of my home, even though I knew the details, freaked me out. The stayed an extra 10 or so minutes out front, and all along I though for sure they were coming back in or waiting for backup.
despite my user name… nothing Police related here
I called the Police at 2:30 in the morning once during a torrential downpour. The alarm went off and I have no guns at home. I called some guys who did have guns. We went downstairs to confirm all was well (but in retrospect, I went first) and it was. False alarm.
The cop asked me about my workshop and if I did any furniture making… I didn’t know if I should answer him or not… I didn’t want to incriminate myself. It was the same when we came back from Florida once…
“business or pleasure?”
“Pleasure”
“did you have a good time?”
“uh…. I… uh…. yes?”
I called the cops once when some dick smashed my car window while it was parked out front of my house. The lone cop who eventually showed up looked like he should have been retired. He took a report, gave me his card and left. Never heard another thing.
.
Best practices: politely play dumb, and ask them to leave your property. Andy from Mayberry never exitsted. Their job is only moderately more dangerous than the garbage man.