Gunshots bring us together again

The next day after work, I got a call from Ron. “We need a block club meeting. I’ll call the houses with even addresses, you call the houses with odd addresses.”

The next evening, block club members gathered at my house. On the short notice, we had a good turn out: gunshots on the block are compelling. Twelve neighbors, ten white and two black, showed up.

As riveting as gunshots are, we were used to them and they were over, so we talked about Martha, who hadn’t come. Ron complained he’d seen her leaving the home of Darius Jefferson staggering so badly, he’d wondered if she would make it across the street.

The black couple who worked in the insurance industry reported they’d seen the same thing. “Yeah, I can see what that Jefferson is doing,” said the husband. “He’s hooked her. You know they’re doing more than drink over there.” His wife complained they hadn’t realized the neighborhood was so bad and they’d paid too much for the house and would lose too much if they sold. “We’re going to put a six foot high fence around the back of the house,” she explained.

Then we got to the point of our meeting. The gunshots took place at the house across the street from me, the home of white Terry and her biracial son, Jared. Maggie and Mike, a young white couple with two small children lived next to the house, and knew the most. Maggie had dark, curly hair and a troubled face.

“They were having a birthday party for Jared, he turned 19 and it really wasn’t noisy. I can always hear their music in my house and it wasn’t any louder than usual and it was a small party.”

Maggie was interrupted by a din of complaints about noise. Car stereos, house stereos, boom boxes in front and back yards. People could hear cars approaching from a block away. They could hear stereos in houses across the street when they were inside with all their windows closed.

When the clamor died, Maggie continued. “About 1:30 a.m., some people came to the door and wanted to come to the party. Jared didn’t know them, nobody at the party knew them, so they didn’t let them in. They turned to leave but then came back and fired into the front door.”

There were exclamations of fright and anger. I asked if anyone was hurt. “No one was hit, just property damage. I talked to his mom, Terry, today. She was pretty shook up. I tried to talk to Jared, but he said it wasn’t anyone else’s business.”

“He needs to understand that when there’s gunfire, it’s everybody’s business!” I said hotly. Several people hollered agreement.

“The police were out but no arrests were made.”

Jared was not liked. We had called 911 often to complain of his parties. He needed constant reminders. Sometimes after someone called 911 for his parties, car tires were slashed. We wanted Terry to take her parenting more seriously.

Ron mentioned day care licensing. Terry babysat several children and they were there when the house was shot. Was she licensed for day care? Maybe we should report her.

Maggie protested. “That’s her livelihood now and her house is probably safer than where the kids live. I’ve talked to the kids and they tell me stories I don’t want to believe. Besides, I’ve worked hard to build a relationship with Terry and I want to preserve it. And she is not the problem. And you know, Jared, the one who had the party, is not a bad person either. He hasn't decided if he’s going to be wild or straight, I think. We’ve got to remember, those people are victims, too.” Heads nodded in agreement, some hesitantly, others energetically.

“To be honest,” said Ron, “I don’t want Jared to get shot. I just want him to grow up and move out. Let his friends crash his parties somewhere else.”