A Bad Guy in the House

This story is true, though some people react as if they think I’ve made it up. So I haven’t told this story often. It is pretty unbelievable. It was a fall night in 1999. I was spending a quiet evening at my mom’s house with her and my two little ones, Maddie was just 2, and Isaac was 5 months old. My husband was fishing with his brothers, and my dad was watching a fight at his buddies’ house, something very out-of-the-ordinary for him to do. It came time for me to pick up my 13-year-old brother, Jordan, from a Halloween party at a friend’s house, just a few blocks away. Upon our return, a woman pulled up in front to my parents’ house and jumped out of her blue Toyota pickup before it had even come to a stop. A man was with her, and she was screaming at me to get my dad. It was dark enough that I didn’t recognize her, and I was confident she had the wrong house. I hurried Jordan into the house and closed the front door. I gave my mom a brief recap of the recent occurrence, still sure that these weirdos had the wrong house. My mom went to the door and discovered her friend Chris, mother of 10, hysterical. When Chris found that my dad wasn’t home, she dropped to her knees right there on my parents’ front porch, sobbing in disbelief. From there her horrific story unfolded. Chris lived with her family “in the country”, several minutes from town. A little corner market was the only business for many miles. Chris was on her way to pick up her son, Jonathon, from the same party Jordan had been to. At a stop sign, one of the few on this country lane, a Hispanic man jumped in to the passenger seat of Chris’ truck and yelled “Drive lady, drive!” Another man opened the door on Chris side, saying “we don’t want you, lady. Just him.” He began shooting several rounds at Chris’ new and unwanted passenger. Chris hit the gas, trying to flee this unimaginable scene, but she stalled the pickup. Finally, she had success at getting away from the shooter, driving as fast as she could, still with the stranger (who appeared to be unharmed) sitting next to her. Chris sped away, knowing the “bad guys” were right behind her. As she got closer to town, she concentrated on a safe place she could go to. Her choices were few, there were no businesses still for many miles, and there were no houses she could go to that offered protection, as many were divorced friends or their husbands were out of town. Her frantic getaway soon brought her to my parents’ house, knowing that my dad was logical and would calmly handle this out-of-control situation. Her terror increased at the discovery that he wasn’t there. As she stood at my mom’s front door, with the stranger in her shadow, I listened and soon realized we needed police. But in my effort to not over-react, I sought approval from my mom, that yes, I needed to call 9-1-1. I called, and strangely, was too calm. The dispatcher was unable to grasp the urgency of our situation, even though I told her “we have a bad guy in the house.” I sent Jordan into the bedroom with my babies. I instructed him to lock the door and to not come out. I knew that he would protect them at all costs. Maddie, sensing the danger, crawled under my parents’ bed and we eventually found her there later on, asleep. While we waited for the police to come, our ‘stranger’ was restless. He wanted to make a phone call, he wanted to leave, he did go into the bathroom to (we speculate) flush ‘evidence’. Chris took control, and told this man to sit down and wait. The tone of her voice let him know she meant it, and he obeyed. After sitting for awhile, we discovered that the stranger had been shot several times in the rear-end. This reality reminded us that we were still without police protection, and it had been 15-20 minutes since my phone call to 9-1-1. My second phone call to them was not as calm as the 1st, and this dispatcher seemed to understand that our situation could soon turn frantic again. Just a few minutes after I hung up, a Sheriff called back to find out what was going on, and finally, he realized the severity of our situation and assured us that help was on the way. The sheriff called in for backup, and soon my mom’s street was full with Sheriff cars, Highway Patrol cars, the entire fire department, and two ambulances. A huge sense of relief came with their presence, but also silly thoughts of “what are the neighbors going to think?” As the night progressed, my husband came back from his fishing trip, Chris’ husband came to her side, and eventually my dad came home. My dad was furious with himself, not just because he wasn’t there during our drama, but mostly because there were no bullets in the house. It never occurred to any of us females to seek out a gun, possibly saving us from more terror and hysteria. Two police cars remained in front of my mom’s house throughout the night and into the morning. We learned that the “stranger” had to live in hotels for the next several months to hide from the “bad guys”. We figured that it was a drug deal gone bad, and that Chris was put in his path to save his life.