The Day After News

What had happened? All we knew was that four people were dead and it had happened about 10:00 or so. And a lot of cops had shown up. That was it. Everything from 42nd Ave to down below our house was enveloped in it was big and untalked about. We were approaching 12 hours after the event and there was not any information being released.

We had planned to visit my mother-in-law in Salem. We would need to leave by 9:00 for that. I walked down to the police car blocking Cesar Chavez. I walked down the middle of the street. A small pleasure.

Can we leave the area in our car?
Yes, we will let you in and out.

We decided to go ahead. There was nothing to do that would do any of us any good. I did call my Mon.

Hi Mom
Well hello, how are you today?
I’m calling to tell you something before you hear it on the news.
Four people were shot on our street.

We put up an alert on Facebook. It would not be good for people to read about four people being shot on our street and not a thing revealed. My wife thought it was the occupants of the “chop shop”. A shabby little house that always had four new cars parked tightly. There was a pregnant woman and a six-year-old boy living there. That would be gruesome.

It used to have a saying “If you want to know it, read The Washington Post”. They had broken the story about Senator Bob Packwood and his affinity for underaged women. This time around The Oregonian had the story. Three men from Texas arrived in order to buy marijuana, tubs of the stuff. The deal went bad. Two of them and two men who lived in the house were killed and one fled in a van.

That is what we know now.

— MichaelRpdx

PS: My erasure, eraser had run out. Sorry about that.

News in the Night

Creeping up on midnight, after 11:00 at least, already. The house was dark. The doorbell rang. In the darkened house close to midnight. My wife got up and went to the door. There was a police officer there. She answered, “just a moment while I get a mask.”

“Have you heard anything unusual tonight?”

She realized something was wrong. There were a dozen cop cars in front of our house. Blue lights flashing on them all.

“Spell your name with two Ns?”
“Yes. Good of you to notice.”
“My name has two Ls.”

The police officer was shaken. Whatever she had seen was not good. They finished up the conversation and the cop left. She went to the window and looked out. Wow, twelve cars that she could see. There was an officer looking back into her eyes. She quit watching.

Back in bed, she told me, “there are twelve cop cars out there.” I was asleep. I moaned a response and drifted off into the night.

In the morning I got up early as usual. Nested into the couch going through the internet. Settled into watching a Bob Ross painting video. Halfway through my wife came out, “four people were killed on our street.” “What?” I said as I took off the headphones. “Four people were killed on our street.”

I got up and looked out. There were still cop cars visible. There was red tape strung across our yard, across the lots across the street. There was red tape as far as I could see.

I went outside and down to the street. Looking down there was a car with flashing lights blocking access from Cesar Chavez, blocking in or out. Looking up the street there was a bunch of police vehicles.

I went back inside. We checked the news. All of it this early was the same. Four people killed on Boise Street between Cesar Chavez and 42nd. It happened around 10:45. That was all.

— MichaelRpdx