Crack-House Diaries: 911 is a joke in yo town, part I:
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In which a crack-head passes out on our porch and leaves a gift.
I have seen some crazy stuff from time to time.
In our first week of ‘camping’ in the house I woke up on Monday morning to this:
5:30 am, before sunrise
*THUMP*
Susan: AHHHHHHHHH!!!
LEAVE NOW!!! YOU CAN'T SLEEP HERE ANY MORE! PEOPLE LIVE HERE NOW!
Male Voice: *GROAN* O-o-okay miss. I'm leavin'.
S: LEAVE NOW!!! I am calling the POLICE!
MV: O-okay miss.
*Thump*Scream*Groan* -- Susan had opened the metal security door on her way to pick up the newspaper. It knocked into the head of a passed out man on our front porch (THUMP). She cried out (SCREAM). The hard steel door knocked the male voice conscious (GROAN).
The neighbors, Frank and Maria, had warned us that a man had been sleeping on our front porch for the last couple of weeks. During that time he was eventually joined by a woman and their two children, a toddler and a four-to-five-year-old boy. Each day Maria would tell the family to leave because people were going to be moving in soon. One day the kids were caught playing in the neighbor's driveway, so Frank called the police. The family left before the police ever arrived.
(Susan comes back to the bedroom)
S: There is a man sleeping on our porch!
Rogan: Do you think he is the same guy Frank was talking about?
S: I don't think so. He is young, and he is alone.
I walked over to the bedroom window and peered between the blinds. Seen through the security bars, bathed in the dim yellow light of our porch, lay a crumpled young man in a semi-fetal position on his right side. His left hand and arm cradled his exposed stomach. His right arm splayed outward, palm up, with a wide-paddled hair brush resting inches away from his curled fingers. I pulled out my cell phone and snapped a picture.
S: Why is he still there!?
R: (Grinning) Check this out!
(showing her the image in the phone)
Our parents are going to shit themselves when they see this!
Both of our families had expressed some concern when we told them we were going to buy a house in South Central. The grainy photo of a passed-out-black-man, crisscrossed ominously by our rusty security bars, was probably more than they could handle.
S: You have to get rid of him!
R: I'm not going near him. I'll call the police.
I dial 911.
911: (woman's voice) 911, what is your emergency?
R: There is a man on our porch. I think he is passed out on drugs or something because we woke him up once and told him to leave, but he passed out again the second we left him.
911: Give your address and I will connect you to your local dispatch.
R: ___Street West, just off of Figueroa.
911: One moment... (ringing sound)
Dispatch: Dispatch, 77th precinct.
R: (I move back to the window)
There is a man passed out on my porch. We tried to tell him to leave, but he wouldn't. He just passed out again.
D: Is he black, Latino or Asian? Please give us a description, starting with his approximate age and height...
R: Black. He looks to be in his twenties. He has a sports jersey, but I can't make out the team. He has sweatpants and plaid boxers. He is wearing running shoes.
D: Has he said or done anything to threaten you?
R: Not yet, but he seems to be clutching something near his stomach. I can't see what it is.
D: Okay Mr. Ferguson. We will have someone come out and take a look.
6:30 AM, sunrise
Susan: Where are the police?
Rogan: I'll give them another call.
S: I have to go to school. Good luck. Give my love to Asa.
R: (fumbling with the cell phone number)
Have a good day at school. Sorry about the newspaper.
S: Goodbye.
*kiss*
911: 911, what is your emergency?
R: I called earlier, about an hour ago. There is a man passed out on my front porch. The police said they were going to come, but they never did. I spoke with the dispatch at the 77th precinct.
911: Let me put you through to them.
Dispatch: Dispatch, 77th precinct.
R: I called earlier about a guy passed out on my porch...
D: Yes, I remember your call. I SAID we were going to get someone on it.
911: This call has been routed through 911. It is being recorded.
D: *ahem* Our officers prioritize all calls and respond to them in order of significance. A homeless person on your porch will generally not take precedence over other kinds of 'emergencies.' An officer will respond as soon as soon as he is able.
R: I never said the guy was homeless. He doesn't LOOK homeless. He looks like a crack-head.
The hand clutching the man's stomach had fallen away, dropping a smoke-charred glass pipe onto the ground.
R: In fact, I can see his crack pipe right now.
D: We will have someone come take a look.
R: Thank you.
911: Thank you.
I kept looking out the window. Asa, my (then) 4-year-old son woke up.
Asa: What do you see?
R: A man sleeping on our porch.
A: May I see?
R: Sure (scooping up the little boy).
A: Why is he sleeping there?
R: He must be tired.
A: Maybe we should let him sleep in our bed.
R: That would be a very nice thing to do, but I don't know who he is or if he is dangerous.
A: (concerned) How can we know if he is dangerous?
R: Oh, my boy, don't worry. I don't think he is dangerous. I called the police and they are going to come and wake him up.
TB: And put him in jail?
R: I don't know what they are going to do.
I get Asa dressed, make him breakfast and lunch, help him brush his teeth and put on his backpack.
7:30, We leave the house
On the way out the house I stop the car in the driveway to pick up the newspaper. I walk over to the slumped body on the porch. I can see that he has picked up the crack pipe and is holding it once again against his body. I pull out the phone and snap another picture.
On the way to Asa's school I swing by the 77th precinct. Holding Ace, we walk in.
Dispatch: Good morning, what can I do for you.
R: Hi. I called a couple of times this morning about a guy sleeping on our porch, but nobody ever came.
D: Yes, Mr. Ferguson. I was here for all of your calls. We sent the call out to the patrolling officers.
R: But they never came…
D: Well they probably had more important things to do.
R: Like what?
D: I’m sorry, but where are you from?
R: ___Street West, just off of Figueroa.
D: Right, but you haven't been here long, have you?
R: A week.
D: You are going to find that this area has a lot of crime. Our officers are very busy responding to serious calls. Rapes. Murders. It is entirely possible that the officers were responding to those kinds of calls, and that kept them from coming to your home.
R: They were responding to rapes and murders at 5:30 on a Monday morning?
D: Yes.
My incredulity would later be cured, a story I will save for another day, but for now I met the officer’s amused expression with a stony look of disbelief.
R: Well you are the dispatcher. Can I see the dispatch log, to see what ‘rapes and murders’ they were responding to at 5:30 on a Monday morning?
D: I am not at liberty to show you the dispatch log.
R: Why not? It is part of the public record. I just want to maker sure the police are responding to 'rapes and murders' instead of getting the crack-head off my porch.
D: I can assure you they were busy.
The conversation was going no place fast, and I realized I should probably stop antagonizing the police. For better or worse, I had made our presence in the neighborhood known.
9:30 AM
I had dropped off the boy at school and I was at work wondering if the crack-head was still on our porch. With a bit of adrenaline left over from the exchange with the dispatch, I dropped him line.
R: Hi, it is me, the guy with the crack-head on my porch.
D: Yes, Mr. Ferguson?
R: I was calling to find out if your guys ever got that crack-head off my porch.
D: I don't know.
R: Don’t patrol report on each call?
D: They fill out a written report. Those reports are processed later in the day.
R: How do I get a copy of that report?
D: It will be a couple of weeks, but you would have to request it. Here is the number ------.
R: Thank you.
I dialed the number -- traffic school. The bastard!
When Susan got home that night the crack-head was no longer there, but he had left us a gift. At some point he must have rolled over his pipe. The shattered little bits of smoke stained glass lay scattered over the porch. She pulled out her phone, took a picture to scare the parents, and swept the glass into the garbage.
S: Why is he still there!? 
