Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Dear Scumbag Neighbor,

I wish I could address you by name because then I'd know who you are, but it wouldn't change the fact that you are a scumbag neighbor, and likely a less than admirable human being.  Right now all I have is a picture of you and your license plate number so rest assured I'll find out.  My determination outweighs your stupidity I'd like you to know.  It's dogged.  My husband has a nasty goose egg and bruise on his shin from where you kicked him.  My daughter has a fear of being alone and an aversion to dog sitting since you pulled your car to the side of the road and approached her while she was playing with the dogs.  Had you gone on your way when she followed her intuition and said, "No!"  it's likely that would have been the very end of it, but you didn't.  You had already made a series of very bad choices that day.  It was only 3 o' clock so why stop? You advanced onto the property that was not your own (btw that's called trespassing) despite the fact that the dogs were going crazy and she was scared out of her wits.  You tried to convince an 11 year old to let you pet the dogs.  She held firm because she didn't know you, and sensed that something wasn't quite right. When you weren't budging, she hurried into the house, locked the door and called home.  You followed her.

I know this because my husband followed you.  After you drove off the road twice at the end of our road, screeched to a stop, jerked back and then peeled past our house at a high rate of speed up the street, he followed his instinct.  When he heard the dogs barking with alarm, he picked up his pace and rounded the corner in time to see you making your way up the driveway.  He shouted, "Hey, what are you doing?" Surprised, you started back to your car.  Once face to face with you, my husband smelled alcohol as he suspected.  That alarmed him, but much less than the fact that you were approaching his fleeing daughter.  Don't mess with his girl.

I arrived soon after.  I didn't pick up the phone the first 4 times it rang because I was working out and didn't recognize the number.  On the fifth call, I answered to my daughter in sheer panic, but safe.  I arrived on the scene to see my husband calmly detaining you in the presence of two other neighbors, who had called 911.  Next time my daughter knows she absolutely has permission to call that number herself so thanks for that lesson I guess. You were spewing forth a chain of vitriol.  You have quite the vocabulary. A bad temper too. You were the opposite of calm.  You were out of control.  My husband is king in a crisis and he never so much as raised his voice.

My daughter was in the back of the house unawares of the confrontation going on outside.  Thank God.  She told me what happened in between sobs and shakes.  She said, "The dogs sometimes bark, but never like this.  Something was so not right."  Dogs have intuition too dummy.

The police arrived soon after I did.  Do you know that one cop?  The older one?  The one who was mad that we took a picture, which is now the only evidence we have?  He came and you put your yarmulke on. How do you know him?  Is he the one who called your dad? That was your elderly dad who walked over with a concerned look on his face and had a clandestine conversation with your officer friendly?  You live close?  Close enough that your dad could be on the scene on foot in 5 minutes like it was just another Saturday afternoon? Whatever your dad said didn't work this time though.  There were too many witnesses and 4 squad cars in total so there was no way to make this one disappear I'm afraid. 

One officer told us that if you were who he thought you were, you like to drink, and that you have some mental issues.  He said this as if this information should reassure us and make us feel better.  Oh, he's done this before!  Great!  Well, if it's just your thing to get so drunk on the synagogue wine and get behind the wheel of your car in search of little girls to act inappropriate with then good for you.  He also told us he's had run ins with you before.  Oh goody, you're a repeat offender.  Special.

Finally, a field sobriety test was administered.  I'm not sure it was ever completed because you tried every trick in the book to botch it.  I actually laughed when you tried to convince the officers that there was no way you could walk a straight line on a slanted street.  What was your excuse for not being able to recite the alphabet?  You were quite adept at stringing letters together to form words that make even drunken sailors blush.

We left before you were arrested.  I know you were arrested because I called the PD the other day.  DWI.  I called to let them know that you threatened to come to our house.  Someone from the county mental facility was nice enough to call us at 4 a.m Sunday morning to let us know you were being released and that was your plan.  Seems like no one wants to deal with you.  Well, the Glendale PD know this now, and we've been advised if you so much as slow down as you pass our house we're to call them. But here's the probably think we live up the street where the incident occurred at least for now.  I'm really unhappy about the fact that we cannot get a copy of the incident report until the case is closed. Something about driver privacy yada yada.  You'll be able to get a copy and I believe my husband's name will be in it and then, of course, our whereabouts is only clicks away.  That makes me feel real good.  Twice victimized actually.  Where's my privacy?  The cops are trying to tell us that you're harmless.  Too late, harm already done.

Don't be surprised if you see me scouring the neighborhood looking for your vehicle.  No luck thus far, but it's only a matter of time.  You see I want to have my eyes on you.  Don't get me wrong...I hope to never come face to face with you again, but I'll be watching you scumbag.