Damn. They didn’t catch him. They happened on two undocumented guys from Latin America who are now in INS custody and have absolutely nothing to do with the 9 murders and 3 woundings that have taken place in this area in the last two weeks.
I was so hopeful that they’d caught him, that the person (who cares if the lunatic is a man or woman, not I) got stupid or greedy and was dull enough to call from a payphone and stand around until the cops traced it and came down on them like the wrath of God.
So… what now? We wait until he (he because I don’t want to type he/she or they) strike again and hope the cops catch him this time. Jen asked me tonight after I got home if it’s safe to go outside again. What am I supposed to tell her? I have no idea. He’s hit everyone off of or close to major roadways. Ummm, for all of you people who don’t live here, you can’t go 100 yards without stumbling over a major artery. There are two major roads within two minutes of my house, another and the largest airport in the area five minutes from my house. Our grocery store is in a well-lit parking lot with lots of exits (three weeks ago, I would have said that was a good thing). Our church is right by the toll road (that other major roadway in the area).
I can tell you all the makes and models of the white trucks between my house and anywhere I go. I count them and try to memorize the license plates. I can count ten in my neighborhood alone, one with a roof rack (it has carpets, not ladders and it’s the wrong make, but I’m still tempted to call it in).
See? This is why we’re all freaked out. We all live within minutes of a possible getaway. We’re all exposed. We’ve all lived with the fac that if something bad was planned by someone who doesn’t like us, we live in one of the three prime targets in the country. So, excuse us if we’re all a little frazzled and don’t talk about the cute things our kids do, the games this weekend or the stuff on TV (Full Metal Challenge is awesome, by the way). (switching tense for no good reason) I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and trying to protect everyone all the time, like that poor frightened woman at the gas station last weekend. I wanted to tell her everything was going to be OK, even though I didn’t believe it either. It’s going to be OK… but I don’t believe that either.