Oh, sorry – I thought that was how we were starting all posts on the internet these days…
Last week, Cynthia and I went running in the evening. It wasn’t that late (by our standards) but it wasn’t that early either. At one point, I had to excuse myself to go back to the house for a few minutes to heed “the call”. I asked her to come with me into the house, but she waved me off and said that she had the dog, and that she was OK and would just stay on the dead end street in front of the house.
When I came back, I found her and finished up our run together. On the very last minute or so, some guy turned down the street. Which – OK, some guy is walking down the street. Alone. At night. With a backpack. Is he out looking for trouble? Or just going to a friend’s house/looking for a cut-through to another neighborhood?
As he approached, I crisscrossed so that I was closer to where he would be passing.
He was a white guy in his early 20s, with short hair and that scruffy chin looking that so many people that age go for… I’ve been a white guy in my 20s walking around in the middle of the night, and have actually been stopped by the cops a couple times doing so. At the time I thought it was a bad thing, but as time has gone on, I’m glad that they were looking around for suspicious characters. This guy definitely felt suspicious. But, hey, he might not be up to anything at all.
We decided to end the cool down period a little earlier though, and went directly into the house.
As we made that decision, we glanced behind – and he had doubled back and was headed back in our direction.
Perhaps he realized there was no cut-through. Maybe he was looking for a specific car, and didn’t see it.
Maybe he was casing houses and since he was seen by people on that street, he was going to look for another street.
Who knows? You like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but who knows…
That was Tuesday night.
On Thursday morning, we are driving passed the 7/11 down the street from us and it is surrounded by police cars and news vans. There are plain clothes officers in the doorway. Cynthia asks what I think happened. “Someone was murdered”.
“Why would you say that?”
“Look at who is there, and what they are doing. Someone was murdered.”
Sure enough, someone was murdered. Just down the street from our house.
They did catch the guy. He had killed the store clerk and took a bunch of lottery tickets. No cash. Just lottery tickets.
They showed a picture, an old mug shot of him – and I thought “that guy looks familiar”.
Cynthia saw it, independently, and said the same thing, only this guy had longish hair.
Then they released the *new* mug shot of him… and yeah, it was that guy who passed us on the street two nights before.
Or at least looked like him. All white people look the same to me, heck, all of you “people” look the same – but I’m pretty sure that it was him.
Clearly, the one thing that you can get from this story is “don’t go out running, bad things could happen!” But beyond that, “white people are crazed animals who go around murdering innocent people” is also a pretty good lesson. You shouldn’t trust them. You have no idea what they will do!
Especially don’t trust white males. I’ve heard of one white male in his early 40s who eliminates several people *a week*. But that’s not the worst of it. He forces them to compete against each other, putting them head to head, for his twisted enjoyment. Here is one of the examples I’ve seen of his work. It may be NSFW: http://therealljidol.livejournal.com/673598.html Scary, right?