My Brush with the Law

Let me set the stage for you...it's Monday night, 9:30pm. My girlfriends from our accountability group left my house at 9. I change into my pjs...shorts and a tshirt...pile my hair on top of my head, and pull out my guitar for a few minutes of out-of-tune-plunking before bed.

Then...a big knock on my front door. Odd, I think...no one usually comes knocking this time of night. I look out the peephole and see nothing. Now I wouldn't normally open the door this late at night because I’ve read the emails that flood my inbox about women who live alone and open the door to a serial killer. But since the girls just left, I wonder if it’s one of them and they accidentally left something at my house, so I open the door.

To my surprise, a cop steps around the corner! And by cop, I don't mean your average, run of the mill policeman. I mean a very big black man with the words "fugitive patrol" embroidered on his uniform. I suddenly find myself very aware of the fact that I did not shave my legs that day (why that’s the first thing I think of, I do not know).

So the giant fugitive patrol man says he's looking for “Gary”, I say I think he has the wrong apartment. He holds up a picture of some guy I've never seen before and I tell him there's no one here by that name.

Then he tells me that “Gary” is a felon, and that giant man has a search warrant and needs to come in. By then every piece of spam email I've ever gotten about men impersonating cops in order to get in women’s house, stop them at gas stations, or pull them over to the side of the road only to take advantage of them suddenly flood my brain. Cue adreneline rush! Uh, no, you can't come in, I say to the giant black man standing at my door. He gets a little irritated and reminds me that he has a search warrant and because this is a felony matter, he doesn't need to stand here and discuss it with me, and as a matter of fact had I not answered the door, he would have kicked it in.

So I explain to him that I will be happy to let him in except that I live alone and I need to know he is a real cop…I think, if he’s a real cop, he would understand this…and I ask if he has a partner so it’s not just me and some strange man alone in my house? In response he tells me, in a way that is subtly meant to inspire fear, that his partner is at my back door. I think to myself, ahh!! There are TWO rapists and they’ve got me surrounded!!! I eye his ginormous muscles, I think to myself that yes, I am in fact superwoman, but I’m pretty sure I can’t take him. However, he has yet to assure me that he is a real officer and not Joe-Rapist off the street.

About this time, officer #2 circles around my apartment to join giant man #1 at the front door, I assume to find out why he hasn’t by this time kicked the door in, guns waving and bullets flying. I repeat why I haven’t let the giant man in, and officer #2 pulls out 2 government IDs along with his badge. I gladly let them in. I wonder, was that so hard??

Officer #1 proceeds to search my house looking for “Gary”, while officer #2 explains all the fabulously wonderful things this Gary had done and why they are looking for him, and apparently he lived in my apartment before I did. By then both officers were very nice and even said they appreciate women’s concern like mine, even though it can get in the way sometimes.

Later that night as I replay the scene in my head, I wondered what would have happened had I not answered the door?? Here I am, a frail and meek little woman, sitting in my pajamas, minding my own business, when giant black man claiming to be a cop breaks my door down!!! I would probably scream, jump to my feet and grab my cell phone, rush to my room and lock my door. As I frantically call 911 and grab the mace off my nightstand, officer #2 would run around to my bedroom window, while giant officer #1 would be working on breaking my bedroom door down because they still assume “Gary” lives here and I am either harboring a fugitive or trying to escape thru the window. Then, hearing the commotion, officer #2 would break thru my window with a Chuck-Norris type karate kick and roll onto my bedroom floor. Giant officer #1 would be through the door by now, and both would tackle me. They would be caught off guard with what a worthy adversary I am and I would definitely maim both of them…but they would win in the end (dude…you should have SEEN his muscles…). They would handcuff me and search the rest of my house for “Gary”, before finally realizing there is in fact no “Gary” here at all. Then they would be embarrassed that they broke 2 doors and a window, attacked an innocent woman, and my cat probably would have run away through the broken door, when all they had to do was check with the apartment complex the day before to see that “Gary” had moved out 6 months ago.

And I would sit there handcuffed, still embarrassed that I didn’t shave my legs that day. Oh…the things I worry about…