I have to get this out. It’s eating me alive.
My husband and I live in Stepford, USA, a subdivision of look-alike houses outside of Madison, Wisconsin. I love our house, but the neighborhood is not exactly diverse. Still, it’s a good place, and there are enough relatively liberal people nearby (note for later) that I’m not completely uncomfortable.
After watching a movie tonight, I went out on our front porch. It was nearly 10pm or thereabouts...a quiet Friday night when the neighbors are all indoors, asleep or doing whatever suburban yuppies do.
I noticed a figure about a hundred yards away on the main street that runs through our subdivision, weaving and flailing while carrying what looked to be a flashlight. He was yelling. I wondered if the Trumpers who lived in the nearby house had gotten into a verbal fight, but as the figure wandered across the main street, I realized that was not the case.
He turned onto our street and began meandering down the sidewalk across from our house. He was screaming “I’ll kill you” and “I’ll kill all of you” as he walked, the bright light of his cellphone waving through the air.
I had no doubt that, with the way he was weaving all over the sidewalk and yelling, that he was either under the influence of something or mentally ill.
I called 911 while on the front porch, but then went into the house to talk to the dispatcher. By then, the man had made it to the street corner three doors down and was sitting against the oh-so-cute wannabe gaslight fixture there. I gave the dispatcher what I’d seen and could see: a Black man, roughly 5’10-6’ tall, thin, with dreads or a weave, all in black. I was ADAMANT with this dispatcher. I was NOT afraid of this man. I was worried about HIM, and told the dispatcher to tell the responding officers that I had no reason to believe this guy was a threat. About midway through the call, I realized that I’d called not because I wanted the cops, but because I wanted someone to help this man...someone who clearly needed it.
Then I went back outside.
I watched him roll around on the sidewalk, and then sit down on the lawn of the house across the street. He was still yelling, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. When the man was directly in front of my house, I descended our front steps and made my way into the street about 50 feet from where he stood.
I asked him if he needed help. I asked him if I could call someone for him. I asked him where he needed to be. I knew that I’d called the police and wished I hadn’t had to. I wanted him to believe, when the police arrived, that I cared. There ARE wing nuts by the dozens in this neighborhood, and aside from my genuine care for him, I was concerned that someone would see him as a threat and take drastic measures.
His answers were so incomprehensible that I couldn’t really do much but keep him talking. He DID tell me not to call the police (which I already had), and I assured him that I didn’t think he would hurt me (I didn’t). Mostly I was stalling for time.
The police department sent SIX cruisers, including TWO sergeants. It was a ridiculously overwhelming response for a city of 30,000 people. I began taking video almost immediately, narrating it with the date, time, place, and circumstances. In what ended up being an hour and a half long situation, I have all but maybe fifteen minutes recorded.
One of the sergeants took a statement, and I again emphatically told him that the man they were dealing with did not pose a threat to me and had not threatened anyone else. I also told the sergeant that I’d be taking video of them and that both my husband (who’d by then joined me outside) and I would be watching every move the cops made.
Another sergeant told me that they’d had several 911 calls from this same man tonight, and that he’d been wandering the area all day. If the guy is mentally ill as I suspect, I’m not surprised.
After a long, long period in which the cops stood around and chatted with the man, I noticed they suddenly got into the swarm formation and knew they were going to take him into custody. I made sure to video when they cuffed him and when they put him in the squad SUV. One of the sergeants warned me to stay back...I retorted that I was zoomed in and that if they set a toe out of line I’d have it on camera. They were nice enough, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
It ended about twenty minutes ago. My remorse is overwhelming. I didn’t want that man to go to jail (they searched him and found nothing early on), I wanted HELP for him. But who do you call for help with someone who’s likely mentally ill at 10pm? Hell, who do you call ANY TIME of the day.
As the man sat in the back of the patrol SUV, he turned to look right at me as I took video, maybe 30 feet away. I smiled and made the “I love you” sign with my hand.
I wept afterward.
I wanted him to know I’m not a Karen. I’m not a bigot. I watched every single move those cops made and would have raised holy hell if anything had gone wrong. I wished I had a better way of helping him than calling the police.
That poor man needs help, not cops. I can only hope tonight that, as he is wherever he is, that he’s not hating on this suburban white woman who didn’t know what else to do other than make sure the cops didn’t mistreat him while I was watching.
PEACE.
