Wednesday, February 21, 2007
You Meet The Nicest People In My Line Of Work
Yesterday, I found myself in South Phoenix on an auto theft case. A couple of things I generally try to do on all such cases is to canvass for witnesses in the area where the theft reportedly occurred, as well as in the theft recovery area, if there is one.
In this case, I went out and interviewed the owner, who seemed like a real nice young man. He reported to me that someone stole his sporty little asian import right out of his driveway. "And where did police find the car?" I asked him.
On fire, at an abandoned house over in Lindo Park.
Great. Thanks for nothing. Lindo Park? And me without my tac shotgun?
So, it was off to Lindo Park with nothing but a cell phone and a digital camera. Those of you from the Valley of the Sun probably already know Lindo Park as one of the Valley's most notorious gangster hoods, home of the infamous "Lindo Park Crips." These guys have a few notches on their gun barrels.
I found the recovery spot - the driveway of an abandoned house. Next door, a meth queen was gnawing toothlessly on a candy bar, while several boys in blue were messing around with an old Chevy. These "boys in blue" weren't cops. Blue is the chosen color of the Crips, pretty much wherever you find them. I asked the guys if they knew anything about a stolen car mysteriously appearing in the next-door driveway, and got the response I expected. They looked through me like I was transparent, and mumbled something that left no question that they did not want to be bothered. I knocked on a few doors, but the residents of Lindo Park fall into one of two categories:
1) Don't know nuthin' about nuthin'
2) No habla Ingles
Oh well. At least I can say I tried. I got back in my car and drove on down the street, looking for someplace handy to turn around and get my pasty white ass out of Lindo. I rounded a turn, and came face to face with about 10 Crips milling around on the sidewalk and street. Now, I know my car looks like an undercover cop car. And I know I look like a cop. I've been asked by total strangers if I'm a cop, simply because "you just look like one." So, I was not surprised that the "Lindo Park Telegraph" had already announced my arrival. I wound my car through the guys, and just had to smile.
Nice little show of force there, guys. But I'm not The Man.
I went on past, and every one of them continued to stare menacingly at the back of my car. I wonder if they practice that Fuck You Stare in the mirror until they get it right? I wanted badly to turn around and go through once more, just to show that I didn't give a shit what they thought of my presence in their little kingdom, but decided instead to just find another route out of Lindo.
That's no place for an old Parrothead.
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In this case, I went out and interviewed the owner, who seemed like a real nice young man. He reported to me that someone stole his sporty little asian import right out of his driveway. "And where did police find the car?" I asked him.
On fire, at an abandoned house over in Lindo Park.
Great. Thanks for nothing. Lindo Park? And me without my tac shotgun?
So, it was off to Lindo Park with nothing but a cell phone and a digital camera. Those of you from the Valley of the Sun probably already know Lindo Park as one of the Valley's most notorious gangster hoods, home of the infamous "Lindo Park Crips." These guys have a few notches on their gun barrels.
I found the recovery spot - the driveway of an abandoned house. Next door, a meth queen was gnawing toothlessly on a candy bar, while several boys in blue were messing around with an old Chevy. These "boys in blue" weren't cops. Blue is the chosen color of the Crips, pretty much wherever you find them. I asked the guys if they knew anything about a stolen car mysteriously appearing in the next-door driveway, and got the response I expected. They looked through me like I was transparent, and mumbled something that left no question that they did not want to be bothered. I knocked on a few doors, but the residents of Lindo Park fall into one of two categories:
1) Don't know nuthin' about nuthin'
2) No habla Ingles
Oh well. At least I can say I tried. I got back in my car and drove on down the street, looking for someplace handy to turn around and get my pasty white ass out of Lindo. I rounded a turn, and came face to face with about 10 Crips milling around on the sidewalk and street. Now, I know my car looks like an undercover cop car. And I know I look like a cop. I've been asked by total strangers if I'm a cop, simply because "you just look like one." So, I was not surprised that the "Lindo Park Telegraph" had already announced my arrival. I wound my car through the guys, and just had to smile.
Nice little show of force there, guys. But I'm not The Man.
I went on past, and every one of them continued to stare menacingly at the back of my car. I wonder if they practice that Fuck You Stare in the mirror until they get it right? I wanted badly to turn around and go through once more, just to show that I didn't give a shit what they thought of my presence in their little kingdom, but decided instead to just find another route out of Lindo.
That's no place for an old Parrothead.
