It was still dark two mornings ago when we were woken up by a metallic BANG! BANG! BANG!
Me: Gilberto! Someone's banging on the screen door!
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG
Police: OPEN UP! SEARCH WARRANT!
Me: Oh my God! Gilberto! The police want in!
How did the police know that I was thinking about getting a Medical Marijuana Card? And I was only thinking about it! For the firbromyalgia pain! And that's not a crime!
Police: OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!
We lept from the bed and peaked out the window just in time to see the police blow the door open to the house next door. The boom shook our house and sparks lit up the lawn for a brief moment, revealing men in black crouched in various positions surrounding the house.
Men with big guns that had laser lights trained on the windows.
Me: It's not for us!
Gilberto: Of course it's not! Why would it be?
Me: Oh, um, no reason!
A strange rush of relief mixed with curiosity ('cause I'm nosy) and fear ('cause there were HUGE GUNS) washed over me. Not enough fear to move away from the window, though. This was the biggest event to happen in the neighborhood in a long time, and I wasn't going to miss any of it! Especially since a helicopter had just arrived and was hovering over the house with its searchlight on, ready to aid in case there was an escape.
I've recently started watching Criminal Minds, and it was JUST LIKE THAT. The black, tinted SUVs, the uniforms, the guns, the lasers. Even the way they entered the house, throwing smoke bombs, crouching on high alert, and then searching in darkness. They set the vertical blinds swaying and through the moving gaps we could see their flashlight beams as they went room to room, illuminating the swirling smoke.
I don't think it would have surprised me to hear a Director yell out, "Cut! Great job, guys. No need for take two!"
Once the house was secured, the police moved out, sending the hovering helicopter on it's way, and the FBI moved in. Yep, THE FBI.
What were our neighbors up to that would involve the FBI? I thought I had the answer when a few agents came outside for a smoke and started to chat about the woman who took their money. Aha! Drugs! Or Prostitution! Though the woman of the house was pregnant with two kids, so prostitution was pretty unlikely. So back to drugs! It made sense because the woman's brother was always slinking around, smoking pot in their driveway and starting fights at their parties.
But as the morning dragged on, no one was brought out in cuffs. And when the police and FBI wrapped things up, it didn't look like they'd taken any evidence from inside the house, either.
Such a dramatic start to the day, such a boring ending.
My only way to get any info is to offer the daughter a ride home from school. Which is kinda sleazy, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. You know? No? Aw, fine, then I'm going to try and work up the nerve and talk to the parents directly. But in an indirect kind of way, like going over to see if they'd like to have my infant car seat.