The story you are about to read is true, some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Wrapping up the final edits of the monthly print editions can be a scramble; once we sign off on the final copy, it goes to print and any missed mistakes are set in stone. As an editor, I feel a strong connection to the final product, it’s a big project, seen by a lot of people and it feels like an extension of who I am, a representation of me and I want it to be as perfect as possible. So when we were all locked in the process of conducting the final proof, it wasn’t exactly unusual for me to ignore a call from an unknown number. Then a text came through from a Rhode Island number, it said “David, Sgt. Martin with the local police. No emergency, but could you give me a quick call when you have a minute please? Thank you.”
Needless to say, I was skeptical, would a police officer actually text someone? So I googled the phone number of the police station and asked the dispatcher if there was a Sgt. Martin on the force, he patched me through to the man himself. He thanked me for calling right back and then got right to it. “Are you familiar with Blueberry Point?” He asked. I told him that I knew it well. He went on, “One of our officers saw your truck there a couple weeks ago, and one of the houses in the neighborhood was broken into.”
My head was spinning as scenes from “The Shawshank Redemption” flooded my mind, I rushed to fill the silence, “I was there, but I don’t know how to prove to you that I didn’t do it.” “I assume you were fishing down there?” he asked. Of course I responded in the affirmative. He asked, “That little field where you were parked, do you have permission to park there?” I cringed and said, “I have to be honest with you, I don’t. I’ve been parking there for almost 10 years, I’ve met many of the people living nearby they have all been friendly to me, I’m quiet, I don’t leave a mess. Most times I’m there I doubt anyone notices.” I think he was hoping I’d say yes so he could close my file after talking to the landowner—so much for that.
I remembered the night because there was all kinds of weirdness going on behind me. Big flashlight beams waving across the sky, way more vehicle activity than normal. But I was down by the water where I couldn’t see anything except the beams of light and the suggestive glow of passing cars behind the bushes and homes. I finally got spooked and ran up to the road, the neighborhood was desolate. Ten minutes later I saw the lights again, then I saw an actual flashlight, but it disappeared and I never saw it again. At that point, I decided to leave and I never saw a soul. I told this to the sergeant and he said it was probably the officer looking around and I had just managed to miss him.
I started asking questions about which house and which night, at first he kept the details to himself but then opened up, telling me the robbery had happened the night before my vehicle was seen. I tried to appeal to his honesty sensors, “I was fishing, just like I have done hundreds of times before, I didn’t do this.” Then he dropped the punchline on me, he said, “I know we have spoken to you before about parking while you were fishing so I, pretty much, knew that you were out fishing. You have to understand that I have to cover every base when we’re trying to figure these things out.”
Of course I told him I understood. So I offered the olive branch, “If there’s any way I can help you further, please don’t hesitate to ask.” His reply, “Next time you’re there, if you see anyone that seems out of place give me call.”
Hey, at least he didn’t tell me not to park there anymore!
