About hiding from the fugitive outside

Every so often a little incident happens that reminds me I’m not in Scotland any more, and that America can be a slightly scarier place. And it’s amazing how the imagination can play tricks.

The towns and cities that make up greater Phoenix typically consist of what they call neighbourhoods. The one I live in is typical. It has three entrances, two off main streets and another which is more of a back entrance, and there are in the region of 100 town houses with a couple of communal outdoor swimming pools.

A couple of weeks ago, I drove in one of the main entrances and a police car was parked there. The officers didn’t stop me, but I noticed another couple of police vehicles further down the road, as well as two police helicopters circling overhead.

That didn’t bother me too much. Police here tend to respond quickly, and in numbers, to any incident. However, by the time I’d reached my house, about two minutes later, I became aware of a larger police presence than I anticipated. I passed at least three other vehicles, and there were two or three officers standing guard.

My immediate guess, and it didn’t take a genius to work it out, was that they were hunting for someone who was on the run.

So, when I got to the house, I parked the car, and looked around. There is a large area of waste ground nearby and I wandered over in that direction. There were five more police – two on bicycles would you believe.

And these guys were not to be messed with. When I say they were armed, they had some of the biggest guns I have ever seen. I know little about guns but these were very large and I took them to be automatic or semi-automatic.

I was getting the feeling that this might be more serious than first appeared. I called my wife, who was heading home, and told her what to expect. It turned out that, when she got to the neighbourhood entrance, police wouldn’t let her in.

Eventually the police called everyone in the neighbourhood. The message was simple. There is an ongoing police incident, stay inside and lock your doors and windows. The area is “in lockdown”.

That made me feel just a little uncomfortable. I’ve seen all these movies. So, I did lock the doors. I even closed the window blinds, and made sure the computer and TV were turned off – just in case.

I decided to check the local news on the phone. The helicopters were still buzzing overhead. The story was that a driver had been pulled over by the cops. Instead of stopping, he had rammed the police vehicle, sped off, driven into the neighbourhood, and fled. The police were obviously in hot pursuit so he hadn’t got far. By my reckoning, he was possibly outside the house.

I wasn’t panicking by any manner of means. But my mind was beginning to work overtime. What if…this guy was in my back yard, about to knock on the door…what if he was drugged up or drunk…and, this being America, what if he had a gun?

At one point, I took myself upstairs, just to be on the safe side. My wife kept in touch to say the entrances were still blocked off. The cops had ‘huge guns’, she told me.

It was a weird feeling. I’m not saying I ever felt in danger or under any threat. There were plenty police around. But I felt jittery. If there had been a knock on the door or window, my heart would have missed several beats.

All of a sudden, I became aware that the noise of the helicopters had stopped. The local news confirmed that the incident was over and that a man was in police custody. I could breathe easily again.

Perhaps I’ve been watching too many TV shows. And maybe I wouldn’t have been so apprehensive in Scotland. But being part of a lockdown situation in America was an experience I wouldn’t like to repeat.