Jacob
called a little before noon. “Lock your
doors,” he said breathlessly. “The police are driving up and down our street
looking for someone.” It seems he and his mother were outside when a policeman
drove up and told them to go into the house and lock the doors. I did as I was told.
Thereafter, for
almost three hours, we got bits and snippets. I couldn’t see the police from
the cottage, but I certainly could hear multiple helicopters overhead. Jordan reported
that police presence on the street was heavy. The neighborhood email listserv came
alive with this bit of information and that. Put altogether, it revealed that a
mental patient wearing a floral shirt and possibly armed had escaped from
Baylor Scott & White Hospital, perhaps half a mile north of us. Police were
concentrating their search around the hospital, but then I heard of a heavy
convergence of helicopters and police cars in the southwest corner of our neighborhood.
Jacob came out to
the cottage, again breathless, to report police were still everywhere, and he
thought he saw the man riding a bicycle. He protested it looked like him, even
if the clothing was different. He warned me that Sophie could not go out. She looked
at him in despair. Police were discouraging pedestrian travel, so Jordan drove
a woman, a stranger, to the Old Neighborhood Grill. Then she urged our neighbor, who was outside sweeping her walks, to go in the house. So proud of my daughter.
About 2:45 I texted
Jordan to say I was going to take a nap, and she said it apparently was all
clear. Police had left the neighborhood; the helicopters were gone. But there
was no official word. Tonight I watched
the local news but there was no mention. What became a big deal for our
neighborhood was not such to the city at large apparently.
Note to the Fort
Worth Police Department: I know it’s difficult and in a crisis, you have many demands on your time and
services, but a public relations announcement to neighborhood listservs would help
keep neighbors informed and safe. And you could let them know when the all
clear sounded—and maybe what happened. Even a truck with a loudspeaker
might be useful—the water department does that, so why not the police?
Tonight we did
find out it was not (necessarily) a mental patient (who knows for sure?) but a
domestic dispute, apparently in the hospital. The guy was armed or so they
think, and the girl screamed for security. He was last seen walking away from
the hospital. Hours later he still had not been apprehended. Thanks to our
neighborhood police officer (NPO) for the update
I can sure see at
least the subplot of a cozy novel in this incident—maybe Kelly O’Connell to the
rescue in my Fairmount series.
In the midst of
the search, I turned on the TV hoping there was an update on our local bad guy.
No such, but I got extended “special report” coverage of the helicopter crash
on a skyscraper in Manhattan. A horrifying accident that for many of us, even those
not in the city, brought back 9/11. Planes crashing into buildings, buildings
on fire. Fortunately tonight there seems to be agreement that this was a tragic
accident, involving a seasoned pilot but not terrorism. Still, imagine the
fright of the people in the building as they were evacuated and, like 9/11, not
allowed to use elevators to go down fifty-four floors.
In this accident,
I see the makings of an espionage novel—not my cup of tea, but someone could
sure run with it.
And, hey, I’m
still gonna lock my doors tonight.
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