I finally get the door unlocked and notice three dark police vehicles parked outside our house and several officers milling around. The officer asks me if I’ve heard gun shots. I reply that, yes, as a matter of fact, I have. Three of them. He tells me to have no fear – they are investigating. Thinking about dead bodies, I say, “Thank you” politely, as if I am now at total ease and unconcerned. I shut the door and fumble nervously to lock it. Aimee, Tim, and I proceed to run all over the house to various windows to see if we can spot a prowler or a gun or a dead body. Nothing.

But wait – there is a bit of commotion at our neighbor’s house in the cul-de-sac. (We are on the corner lot of a cul-de-sac and surrounded on all four sides by houses. Our back yard is fairly large, but we can see six houses and their occupants just from the back yard alone – this doesn’t include all the front yard people – and vice versa. Have I ever mentioned that I’m a very private person – and an introvert to boot? But that’s another story.)

So the Jones’s (names changed to protect their identity) house is being swarmed by police. One officer has what looks to be an Uzi. My two kids and I are up in my bedroom cautiously opening the window so as not to draw attention to our snooping selves but also so we can hear what is going on with the Jones’s. The Jones’s kids grew up with ours. We’ve had meals together. Aimee kissed Bobby on the lips when they were 6. They have two older kids – a girl in college and a boy graduating this year (that would be Bobby).

We can see four people on their knees with hands up in the air. Can it be the entire Jones’s family? It’s hard to see in the dark, although there is a street light illuminating more than the Jones’s probably would appreciate in this dark period of their family history. Now Mrs. Jones is walking backward into the cul-de-sac toward a group of officers standing in the shadows. She has to get down on her knees when she gets closer, and one of the officers cuffs her. All I can think is that she was a scout volunteer for as long as I’ve known her. Typical stay-at-home suburban housewife. Super nice. Being arrested in her own cul-de-sac.

One by one all of the Jones members follow her in the public square, er, circle of humiliation. Mr. Jones is having a particularly difficult time walking backward. Is he drunk? And the last one? It doesn’t look like Penelope. I say, “Wait a minute, that girl is too short to be Penelope.”

“No.” Aimee informs me. “That’s Penelope. She’s not that tall.”

“Penelope is tall. This girl is definitely short.”

“She doesn’t look short to me.”

Tim jumps in, “I think I heard someone say the word ‘hostage.'”

Hmmm…could be the hostage. But they are cuffing her. This isn’t what happens in the TV shows. They only cuff suspects.

The whole group of officers and suspects walk into another neighbor’s driveway (whaaa???) and hang out for a while. We can hear low voices, but shadows obstruct our view. After what seems like forever, the Jones’s family walks back to their house accompanied by a few officers. Apparently the cuffs have been removed. They go inside – maybe for coffee and a doughnut? Hard to know.

Some of the other officers bang on yet another neighbor’s door and shine flashlights into windows. Nobody answers. I can picture the terrified Smith’s hiding in their bedroom, cussing. I’m sure they don’t want to endure what the Jones’s just went through. They maybe don’t have any doughnuts handy either. Meanwhile, some other officers are going into the Jones’s backyard which is heavily wooded and very large. Bobby, Penelope, and our kids have buried many a dead animal bone back there. It’s definitely haunted. I’m glad they have their Uzi with them.

After a while, Mr. Smith comes out in his skivers. The officers have lost interest in his house by this time and are heading for the cul-de-sac, but his appearance renews their interest. They exchange words. Mr. Smith is an avid hunter and gun expert – maybe they were talking about gun styles? I’m not totally sure, but eventually Mr. Smith goes back to bed, and the officers who were enjoying their refreshments with the Jones’s family exit that building and join the other officers. It doesn’t seem fair that some get coffee while others don’t. There’s a brief pow wow in the cul-de-sac, and they all disperse to their various bat-mobiles.

Game over.

Aimee says, “That was very anti-climatic. I hate to say it, but I was a bit let down when the Jones’s got to go home.”