Full-Scale Threat

Sometime after midnight, I decided to take a walk.  I needed to get some cash, so I headed toward the bank two blocks away.  Usually there aren't many people walking the streets of downtown Mankato at this time on a weekday--not even on Wednesday and Thursday nights when the bars are relatively full, as this is typically a prime drinking hour.  But it was Tuesday, and I didn't think anyone would be walking around.  I stepped outside, and from my stoop, it seemed like a normal Tuesday night.  No traffic.  Cars parked crooked along the curb.  Lamp posts buzzing.  It was a ghost town that had paid its electric bill in advance.  

Then a squad car crept by.  The blue glow from a computer screen inside the car lit up the cop's face.  He was eying me.  I thought it was weird, and it bordered on offensive.  I had just walked out of my apartment.  What the fuck was he doing staring me down?  

I was crossing Broad when, at the same time, three squad cars rolled into view, moving left to right.  One pulled out of the alley next to Wells Fargo, one was on Front, and the third appeared from the alley next to U.S. Bank.  All three turned right, heading toward me.  I stutter-stepped in the crosswalk, not immediately realizing that I hadn't finished crossing the street yet.  They were obviously after me.  Why?  I couldn't remember.  

The cop in the first car glanced at me as he passed.  I started to get nervous.  If one of these cars pulled over, shined a light in my face, and barked about what I was up to, would I have a reasonable alibi?  I would tell them I'm on my way to the bank, but would they believe it?  I've got no one to corroborate my story.  What if there's some huge manhunt going down in Mankato right now, and I'm the number one suspect?  They can't stop every random person they see, can they?  Considering there was only one random person walking around--me--and they definitely had the available manpower, I couldn't see what was stopping them from stopping me.  

The second and third squad cars passed without so much as a courtesy stare-down.  In this brief moment, I grew somewhat courageous.  A little defiant.  Had I been pulled over, I probably would have become belligerent.  They didn't have anything on me.  I had been in my apartment, watching the Cubs be the Cubs.  I'd like to see them try to pin something on me.  Then, two more squad cars and an unmarked Crown Vic pulled into view from the right, performing the same synchronized maneuver the last three cars executed.  If I had a tail, it would have been between my legs.

The final half block, I saw four more cop cars scouring the area.  One had its spotlight on and aimed at some bushes.  I wasn't sure if these were different cruisers, or if they were part of the original six and had circled the block.  Thinking back on it, I should have paid attention to the numbers in case I ended up in court.  This was harassment, for all I knew.  But again, the cops in these squad cars paid no attention to me when they passed.

When I got to the bank, two squads were parked next to each other in the lot, facing opposite directions.  The drivers' windows lined up perfectly; the lights on the roofs--not so much.  I could hear that the cops were talking to each other, but I couldn't make out what they were saying.  So instead of going inside the bank, I leaned up against the brick pillar and tried to listen in.  I wondered what they would say if I walked up to the passenger window of one of the cars, tapped on the window, and asked them what was up.  I didn't because I don't think cops appreciate it.  

But think about it.  It's not against the law to ask a question.  And if cops are here to serve and protect, then shouldn't they be willing to keep the public informed when something sketchy's going on?  Say, a full scale sweep of the downtown grid?

They were too far away.  I couldn't understand anything they were saying.  Since the volume of their conversation didn't extend half the distance of the U.S. Bank parking lot, I decided to go in and get some cash.  It seemed odd to me that neither of the cops yelled out or drove over to see what I was doing.  I must have looked like I had no business standing there.  Maybe they didn't even see me.  

When I got out, both cars were gone, so I decided to walk to HyVee.  I didn't need anything from the store, I just wanted to see if one cop--just one, out of what seemed like the entire force--would stop me.  That's how I could find out what happened.  Have the cops come to me.  Have them ask me questions.  Walking farther away from my apartment would increase the chance I'd get stopped.  But the rest of the way--nothing.  Yes, I saw more cop cars.  One peeled away up Main Street, another chirped its tires turning on to Riverfront.  Each time I heard an engine racing, I thought that it was time.  They were coming for me.  I even had to calm myself down, think about what I would say.  Each time, however, the cars sped past.

In HyVee, I bought a pop.  Sugar and caffeine: two worst things to have at one in the morning.  But I didn't know what else I should get, and I didn't feel like spending too much time there.  The front of the store was completely empty, except for one cashier.  He had his back to me when I stepped up to his lane.  He was counting the register.  I asked him if this lane was open, and he told me it'd be just a minute.  So I waited.  And while I waited, I wondered how difficult it would be to rob him.  I could shove him forward and run away with the drawer.  Or I could dig the bottle cap end of my pop into his back and say, "This is a stick up," or "Give me all your money."  

But if he called my bluff, then what?  Could I say, "Sorry, just kidding"?  Or if he had a weapon, I'd be screwed.  He closed the drawer and turned to me.  He said, "This it for you?"  And I felt compelled to say, "No, I'll take it all."  Instead, I nodded and thought to ask him if he knew what all the buzz was about outside.  Before I could say anything, he turned his back to me again.  I glanced at his belt to see if he might be carrying.  No gun, no knife, no pepper spray.  Then he twisted his head around, and I'm quite sure he thought he saw me checking out his ass because his whole body quickly followed.  At that point, I thought idle conversation might send the wrong message, so I paid, took my drink, and left.

Today I checked the Free Press website and found this.  Some guy in Mankato got jumped and was then robbed.  I'm sure that's what the code red was about last night.  The weird thing is that that kind of stuff never seems to happen in Mankato.  I've walked around at night several times, and not once have I felt unsafe.  Even when I've been approach by one of the many Mankato crazies, swerving on their bicycles and cackling, when no one else is around.  If anything, this place has made me uneasy because of the over-friendliness.  It seems like everyone that passes you on the sidewalk says hello.  And I've always had this attitude: I don't know you, don't talk to me.  

But last night, that went out the window.  Without even knowing about the robbery, I wanted to know why the police were acting so un-Mankato.  The system of order and consistency had been thrown out of whack, and I didn't like it.  On my way home, I walked through the U.S. Bank parking lot, and a cop pulled up to the ATM entrance.  He got out of the car and looked up at me.  I gave him the flat smile and nodded, hoping he'd ask me what I was doing out so late.  He closed the cruiser door and walked into the bank without acknowledging my gesture.  Like he didn't see me.  The cruiser's engine was still running, the window rolled all the way down.  If I had hopped in and pulled away slowly, how far could I have gotten before he noticed his car had disappeared?