Smokeless Shoot-Out

Posted on October 4, 2005 in Encounters

I just wanted shade. So I parked a little ways down from my cousin’s house and went up to hug her as she dragged stuff from her SUV. We went inside, I said hi to all her children and husband. People started to arrive for her son’s combination birthday and M.A. completion party. Then someone mentioned the cops outside.

Six squad cars — a number which increased to twelve — blocked the ends of the street. Three officers stood at the door of the house two doors down. A fourth who wielded a handgun the size of the corner of Beach and Talbert in Huntington Beach shielded myself behind my truck.

I didn’t, of course, walk up to him and ask him ever so politely to find other cover. I just watched as more police came and nothing happened. The big event proved a nonevent except for the consumption of gas purchased by the City of Long Beach and the convergence of black uniforms. A canine unit arrived but we did not get to see the dog. A helicopter bearing the insignia of Channel 9 News flew overhead.

Lynn was enroute in her own car. I called her to say that she should forget the directions I’d given her earlier and follow new ones which put her out of the way of the parked squad cars.

What was going on? we asked each other. Were the neighbors Middle Eastern? Had they found Osama Bin Laden?

Another cousin arrived. Her husband was a Long Beach policeman. He called downtown and learned that they were there to root out a dope dealer. We never saw him, either, even though he could have jumped the fences out back and crashed my cousin’s party. (We joked about wrestling him to the ground and getting our faces on Channel 9 News.) The excitement died down as the cops continued to act like firemen waiting for a fire. I went inside, disappointed and grateful that there hadn’t been a shootout.

The besiegers had left by the time the party with all its attendant clusters for the sharing of family news ended. No bullet holes scarred my beautiful Alpine Green Nissan Frontier. I jumped in, started the engine, and drove down to the far end of the street where I made a turn to head back toward the freeway. On my way out, I noticed the East Sub-Station of the Long Beach Police directly across the street from the dope dealer’s house.

I’ll have to add him to my list of stupid criminal stories.