It Began with A Phone Call

Last Monday, my oldest daughter called from Ann Arbor to tell me some disturbing news.  Her friends were “talking” on facebook and one had posted that the police had just stopped by her home to warn her that there was an armed fugitive in the area. Her friend lives one block from us! One heavily wooded block. It was 11 pm and I was home with my three children.  My husband was at work.  I could barely speak, I was so rattled.  When I processed what she told me, I immediately shut off the lights inside the house and turned on all the exterior lights. I moved my four year old out of my bed downstairs to her bedroom upstairs where her older brother and sister were already sleeping. I called my husband to let him know what was going on.  I tried to sound brave.  All I kept wishing was that I had gotten a gun when my dad wanted me to. 

I stayed upstairs where I could watch the front door and the back of the house. I watched as helicopters filled the night sky with their spotlights. It felt oddly like a war movie.  I remembered my 11 year old telling me around nine o’clock how a car kept passing in front of our house really slow. I realized then that it had probably been the police. I was keenly aware that the sense of safety my home had provided had been shattered.  I felt like a prisoner. Sitting.  Waiting. The rational part of my brain knew that if someone was fleeing, the idea would be to get as far away as possible.  The frightened part of my brain was devising strategies for survival against an armed fugitive looking for hostages. I had my cell phone set to 911. One button and I would be ready to rattle off my address and the situation.  Why didn’t I get that gun?

I wondered if I should call my neighbors.  Their lights were out.  I didn’t want to set off an unnecessary alarm.  I paced upstairs rooms, looking out different windows to see different parts of the yard. I expected my husband to get home soon.  Time moved slowly. My heart raced. I hated the night. Why would someone run from the police? 

My husband arrived home. His partner at work has a son-in-law with the Swartz Creek canine unit.  His partner called to tell him the police were thinking they had a suicide by cop waiting to play itself out with this fugitive; bad news.  The worst thing about someone with nothing to lose, is that they have nothing to lose. How that happens to a person, I can’t imagine.  But to be confronted by a person in that state of mind has never been on my bucket list.  My husband’s partner told him to come borrow a gun.  He declined. Why didn’t he want that gun?

Long, short.  They caught the guy a few miles east of us.  They didn’t have to shoot him. We still don’t have a gun.