Death on Euclid
I heard the first police car and thought nothing of it. Then a second. Third. Fourth. When the fire truck rumbled up Euclid Ave, I knew something was happening on my street. I was about to sleep; my contacts lenses already rested in the case. I put on my clothes and went out my front door. It was cooler than I thought; the first night of fall. Two blocks up, the emergency vehicles had pulled onto the sidewalk. Their lights strobed the dark neighbourhood in red white and blue. I saw handfuls of people standing and looking into a house across the street. Paramedics came in and out of the front door, the police stood on guard. The neighbours watched in the pajamas, some wrapped in blankets. A woman outside the home was sobbing. There was a squelch of the police radio.
I saw my neighbour among the onlookers.
"Do you know what happened?"
"No do you?"
And so the speculation began. Those passing by asked what was happening and no one knew. "If it was an emergency, the ambulance would have come and gone." But the gurney was pakerd in the walkway of the house. The woman was sobbing, yelling. "Please save my husaband! PLEASE." She tried to return inside the house but a police officer would not let her pass. "Oh, GOD, I can't believe this is happening!"
Was it a crime? A break in?
"This isn't such a good neighbourhood," said my neighbour. "Used to be gangs here."
This area, near a park, has homes packed tightly together with entirehouseholds of Greeks, Portugese, Italian and renters - from grandmother to grandchild. A walk on any day passes the old folks on their front porches staring out, tending to grapes and emerald lawn. As a newcomer, I am unaware of the many lines of families and their intertwining histories. And now they were all out in the cold night in their pajamas watching this scene unfold. We talked amongst ourselves, everyone adding to the story.
"It's funny we get to know our neighbours this way," said someone. "Well, it's not funny, rather more like strange."
My neighbor is part of the old family network. He approaches an old woman, chats for a while and returns. We gather around him for news.
"I know the guy inside well. He's had a massive heart attack. They are trying to revive him," he says. "I know him. I'll say he's a controversial guy." I wasn't sure what that meant. But I am sure I was the only one not privy the details. But now we knew murder was not the case.
"I can't believe this!" screamed the woman over and over again. "Save him." Her screams grew more desperate. And to her side, I saw a boy, her son, their son, looking on in shock. A neighbour took him by the hand and led him down the street. More and more police came and went from the house.
"Get him to the hospital!" she yelled.
And for a while, nothing seemed to happen. We onlookers stood like ghosts, far into the shadows of the trees. Our faces caught momentarily in the strobes of light. The woman looked out at the crowd for a moment. And then dropped her head.
"Where is my brother!?" she yelled.
Through the curtain, I saw the lights on inside the house. On the top floor, the soft glow of a lamp. There was a For Sale sign stabbed in the front lawn, which the woman picked up and threw to the ground.
"Oh god. I can't believe this!"
It was then, that I wanted to leave. I had seen and heard enough of her misery and felt it was not right to be a spectator. I should have never walked up this way, I thought. But no one else moved, just stared, at the police, the woman yelling and pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. Then the front door opened, a paramedic worker walked to the woman, bowed his head, and spoke to her.
"No!" she screamed. "NO!
Everyone winced.
"Take him to the hospital! There is always a chance, there is always a window!" The paramedic put his other hand on her shoulder and she sobbed. Four firefighters, their suspenders on, walked out of the house, got into the truck, and backed slowly down the street for their work was done. The paramedics carried the gurney into the house. And that's when I left too. I could not fall asleep. Through my bedroom window I could hear her crying.
And the next morning, I woke early. I thought I could still hear her crying. And walked back up the street. It was a calm morning with sun, and a steady wind. I passed the house. There were no police, no trucks, no crowd, no neighbors. The light on the top floor was still on - as if it was just another simple house in a quiet neighborhood.
I saw my neighbour among the onlookers.
"Do you know what happened?"
"No do you?"
And so the speculation began. Those passing by asked what was happening and no one knew. "If it was an emergency, the ambulance would have come and gone." But the gurney was pakerd in the walkway of the house. The woman was sobbing, yelling. "Please save my husaband! PLEASE." She tried to return inside the house but a police officer would not let her pass. "Oh, GOD, I can't believe this is happening!"
Was it a crime? A break in?
"This isn't such a good neighbourhood," said my neighbour. "Used to be gangs here."
This area, near a park, has homes packed tightly together with entirehouseholds of Greeks, Portugese, Italian and renters - from grandmother to grandchild. A walk on any day passes the old folks on their front porches staring out, tending to grapes and emerald lawn. As a newcomer, I am unaware of the many lines of families and their intertwining histories. And now they were all out in the cold night in their pajamas watching this scene unfold. We talked amongst ourselves, everyone adding to the story.
"It's funny we get to know our neighbours this way," said someone. "Well, it's not funny, rather more like strange."
My neighbor is part of the old family network. He approaches an old woman, chats for a while and returns. We gather around him for news.
"I know the guy inside well. He's had a massive heart attack. They are trying to revive him," he says. "I know him. I'll say he's a controversial guy." I wasn't sure what that meant. But I am sure I was the only one not privy the details. But now we knew murder was not the case.
"I can't believe this!" screamed the woman over and over again. "Save him." Her screams grew more desperate. And to her side, I saw a boy, her son, their son, looking on in shock. A neighbour took him by the hand and led him down the street. More and more police came and went from the house.
"Get him to the hospital!" she yelled.
And for a while, nothing seemed to happen. We onlookers stood like ghosts, far into the shadows of the trees. Our faces caught momentarily in the strobes of light. The woman looked out at the crowd for a moment. And then dropped her head.
"Where is my brother!?" she yelled.
Through the curtain, I saw the lights on inside the house. On the top floor, the soft glow of a lamp. There was a For Sale sign stabbed in the front lawn, which the woman picked up and threw to the ground.
"Oh god. I can't believe this!"
It was then, that I wanted to leave. I had seen and heard enough of her misery and felt it was not right to be a spectator. I should have never walked up this way, I thought. But no one else moved, just stared, at the police, the woman yelling and pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. Then the front door opened, a paramedic worker walked to the woman, bowed his head, and spoke to her.
"No!" she screamed. "NO!
Everyone winced.
"Take him to the hospital! There is always a chance, there is always a window!" The paramedic put his other hand on her shoulder and she sobbed. Four firefighters, their suspenders on, walked out of the house, got into the truck, and backed slowly down the street for their work was done. The paramedics carried the gurney into the house. And that's when I left too. I could not fall asleep. Through my bedroom window I could hear her crying.
And the next morning, I woke early. I thought I could still hear her crying. And walked back up the street. It was a calm morning with sun, and a steady wind. I passed the house. There were no police, no trucks, no crowd, no neighbors. The light on the top floor was still on - as if it was just another simple house in a quiet neighborhood.
posted by Mike at 6:50 PM
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