Oct. 19, 2006 - Learning about ants... and undercover cops
A quiet afternoon; a funeral on Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman; tears being shed for a fictional family facing the death of their young boy; suddenly there is fear. In an instant it is fear for my own safety and then fear for my children’s as I call for them to get in the hall (no windows) and drop to the ground. They are afraid because they don’t know what is going on. Neither do I. (Did I ask the Lord for peace and protection? I imagine I did but can’t remember.)
I heard a muffled bang; the dog barked; then I saw a man in a ski mask pointing a gun at a man in a truck. My thoughts are jumbled: is this a car-jacking; is my door locked; where is the phone; should I call the police; how stupid do I look laying on my floor peering out the window in the middle of the afternoon? (I’m ashamed of this last one, but hey, in the midst of crisis our minds often beat their own paths – much of them illogic.) Then surveying the scene a little better, I saw several guys in ski masks – all wearing bullet-proof vests with “Sheriff’s Department” written across the back. The man was forcibly removed from the truck and several other people were laying face-down in the street: all quickly put into handcuffs.
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Today the front page of the newspaper has the story, which begins, “Federal immigration and state narcotics police, along with officers from the city and four counties, raided five homes simultaneously in a joint action midafternoon Wednesday, making multiple arrests and seizing a large amount of powder cocaine, according to the Sheriff's Office.”
One of the raided homes was on my quiet cul-de-sac. Being reassured by a friendly police dispatcher (yes, I did call 911) that the officers had everything under control, the kids and I calmed ourselves from our shaking and crying and spent the next couple hours watching our street abuzz with officers and police vehicles. At one point an officer dressed all in green wearing a helmet and carrying what looked like a machine gun walked down the street toward the house that was being raided. We could not see the raid because we live at the beginning of the court; the house in question was down in the circle.
Initially we had been instructed to remain inside and all vehicles attempting to turn onto the street were prevented by police vehicles parked across the road. Officers turned away pedestrians unless they lived in a house on our end but one young girl was escorted to her home in the middle of the block after getting off the school bus.
Fortunately by the time my husband arrived home they were letting residents – but only residents – proceed to their homes. The raid was finished and people bagan to come out of their houses and watch the clean-up: more than half-a-dozen men arrested and loaded into a van; several vehicles towed; officers milling around with blue gloves on, smiling big and shaking each other’s hands, writing in notebooks and talking on their radios.
My kids had a lot of questions. We talked about undercover cops, unmarked vehicles, guns, handcuffs, K-9 units, breaking the law, and drugs. It was a great example of learning in the midst of living – though it wasn’t the kind of living I wanted to be doing so close to home. It was an interesting day: we learned about ants in co-op, had a good afternoon rest, watched what could have been the filming of an action movie outside our windows, had a nice dinner, and then ended the day with a discussion about God’s protection over his children. That’s what I call a successful day on the homeschool front!
As an aside: I’ve been ruminating today about the Christian response to happenings such as these. One instinct is to flee our city neighborhood to quieter, suburban life. Another says that someone should keep the light of Christ alive even in these places. Soon, I hope to nail down these thoughts and present them here.
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