Berkeley Police, Open Up Please…

There has always been something great in a Welcome Home. It has always been part of our collective experience. From the “prodigal son” stories, to When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, its place in life has been well documented. Everyone wants to return to their homes and be greeted with smiles and open arms. Truth be told, I have always loved this. As a child, I dreamt of going off to far places, for a long time, and come home to a big, happy greeting. Read into this as you will, but those fantasies are now beyond me. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child…

When I first moved to California, nearly three years ago, I was really bothered by all the crime that was going on in the Bay Area. Every night I watched the news there were more and more reports of homicides, double homicides, assaults, car-jackings, etc. I took solace in the fact that they were not happening near me. I could localize the violence and avoid those area. I reasoned it away: overpopulation, drugs, poverty, mental illness, some ships need a larger berth. Problem solved, right? Well, mostly.

Don’t get me wrong, there was still crime around where I lived but it seemed to be crimes of opportunity. Crime is crime, but with this type you could prevent the possibility of becoming prey. Lock your doors, lock your windows, put your things in the trunk of your car, don’t leave your laptop unattended in a cafe, keep your bag closed and close to your body. Pretty basic stuff here. Even growing up in a town of less than 5000 people, I knew these and it is amazing to me that this is not standard operating procedures for others.

This gets me back to what I started this entry about. Recently, I went back to the great Commonwealth, with a sally into the former Catholic colony. Great welcomings all around. I am always happy to see my friends and family. Especially now, since I went through a time of estrangement with both camps, nearly equal in amount. But this is a subject for another dispatch. Whirlwind as it was, it was tremendously fun and a fulfilling time. But the time came for me to manifest my destiny and return westward.

The trip back was uneventful, at most. I caught the planes, they took me where I needed to go. I got back to my apartment and everything was as it should have been. No break-ins, no damage, no cause for concern. Not that I had a reason to believe this would happen. Its just that sort of creeping anxiety that you get when you are away and you don’t have someone to “watch over” your place for you.

I spent the next day busying myself with getting groceries, cleaning, laundry, getting used Promised Land living again. I went to bed kind of early, I had to work the next day. Sleeping soundly, I was awoken to a knocking at my door, somewhere near quarter to 5 am. In my bleary, dream-soaked mind, I didn’t respond, hoping that it was just a passing car or a neighbor dropping something against our shared wall, or the vestiges of a forgotten dream. These thin inclinations began to be wane once I realized there was flashing lights sifting through my blinds and curtains, and they were formally dashed with the doorbell. “Hello?” I gruffly asked through the door. “Berkeley police,” a voice responded. ” Open up please, I would like to ask you some questions.”

The police officer asked exactly three questions: “Have you heard anything having to do with an attempted crime that happened in the past 30 to 40 minutes?” (no.) “What’s your name?” “What’s the address to this residence?” I answered each one of them with my recently risen, phlegm-coated voice and he apologized for “waking you up, buddy.” and moved onto another apartment.

Once I closed the door, my mind sparked awake and I was full of questions and I went from window to window to try to get some answers from what I saw. Nobody in the back of any of the five (!) police cars on the street. No caution tape or flash lighted searches in the park across the street. No screaming, yelling, or hurried movement. Just police officers milling about the sidewalk and their cars. No real information to be taken in without going outside and asking, but if this was an investigation, they were not going to tell me anything. Besides, it was five o’clock in the morning. I was tired. I had to go to work at eight. It probably was just a couple of homeless guys fighting each other. There is always homeless people milling about the park. Berkeley is full of them.

Feeling a bit vulnerable, I went back to bed and pulled the covers up a bit higher. After a while I fell back to sleep and had uneasy dreams. With the alarm clock, I got up and started to get ready for work and was greeted by the doorbell again. This time it was a concerned neighbor. She asked me if I knew what was going on. I told her about my early morning visit from the Badge. She said that there were some people gathered around one of the other apartments and asked if I wanted to go see if they knew anything. Which we did. Unhappily, we found out that one of our neighbors was treated to a break in and an attempted rape. GOD DAMN, FUCKING SHIT! I’m not going to go into the details but you can look at this news video for them.

Welcome home, Rev. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not victimizing myself, but DAMMIT! Why does it have to happen here? Why does it have to happen anywhere? I don’t know much about my neighbor but I’m pretty sure that she didn’t deserve this. No one does. Also, the scary shit is that it seems that this motherfucker had planned it out. He had watched the place. He knew where and when to strike. Her apartment was way in the back of the property. It happened after the security lights went out. He planned it out and he acted. This is beyond the “opportunity crimes” that I had previously mentioned. I am pissed. I’m angry that this thing happens. Why do some men feel they can do this and think that it is okay? I’m embarrassed to even share my chromosomes with these assholes. I won’t say that the answer is castration of these fuckers, but it is starting to sound better and better. Worst part is that, as of this printing, they have not caught him, and there was another break in and attempted rape this past Sunday at a nearby location and the description of the perp is the same. Even worse, they think this is the same guy that raped two other women in two other similar break ins that are within a mile radius of each other!

So, here’s the silver-lining, Pollyanna. I now can say that I know most of my neighbors. We have gotten together a couple of times and shared feelings, anecdotes, glasses of wine, and smiles. Now we actually stop and say “hello.” In fact, I’ve become fairly good friends with one of them and I check in on her often. Actually, I try to check in on a lot of my neighbors, since most of them are single women. Not that I’m trying to be some sort of big protector, daddy figure, but I just want them to know that I’m there for them. I want to express to them that some guys, say me, actually care and want to help.

I know that in times as this, you can start to feel like you are alone. You can feel like you have to only rely on your own fortitude and always be looking over your shoulder. That can be exhausting, especially after your daily grind. You start to think of ways to get a protective advantage. You start considering to carry weapons and avoid contact with others. You pull away from everyone. But, sometimes if someone just gives you a smile, if they ask how you are doing and actually wait for a response, you can start to feel like you are part of a group, a community. You’re not in it alone, there are people there for you, to offer you help, to welcome you home.