Near the corner of Hollywood and Highland, there's a large billboard featuring a stylized graphic of a cop car with lights blazing, an intense-looking cop, and bright swatches of crime scene tape. At first, I thought it was advertising a TV show, but it is, in actuality, an ad for the CRIME SECTION in the Los Angeles Times. At first I was slightly disgusted with the sensationalism, but hey, it's Hollywood. Then, I got to call the LAPD myself, and now that I know how truly awesome it is, I'm totally sold! Go cops go!
Here's what happened:
Shortly after Jay and I moved into our apartment on Cherokee Street, I went for a walk and saw some police hanging out on my corner. I told them I was new in town and asked if they could give me an idea about how safe the neighborhood was. They both burst out laughing, then stopped abruptly.
"Like, safe in terms of how," one asked.
"Like, 'can I go for a walk by myself at night' safe?"
They exchanged a 'look.'
"Naahhhh. I wouldn't do that." He answered.
"Stick right on Hollywood Blvd. and you'll be OK but don't go anywhere else," said the other cop.
"Stay away from the side streets."
"Or take someone else with you."
Yikes.
Due to the city noise, I'm now in the habit of sleeping with earplugs in. A couple of nights later, at 4:30AM, I awoke because I heard a woman screaming. I took out my earplugs- yup- definitely a woman screaming. Not just "yelling," full-on terrorized "NO! STOP!!! NOOOOOOO!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! NOOOOO!!!!" I immediately reached over to grab Jay, but he wasn't in bed.
Next I reached for the phone and dialed 911. The screaming had mutated into a howling at this point. Someone was dying.
"911 what is your emergency?"
"I'm at the X Building on Cherokee St. and a woman is screaming bloody murder."
"What is she screaming, ma'am?"
"Nooo, stop, get away from me- can you please come rescue her???"
"Is she being attacked?"
"I dunno- it sounds like it."
"Can you see her?"
At this point I hear a slamming sound and glass exploding. It sprinkles onto the concrete sidewalk in our courtyard like demonic rain.
"Can you please just come? Glass is shattering everywhere and I think she's dying."
"The police are on their way- is there a gate to your building?"
"Yes."
"If it's locked when the police get there can you make sure it's open?"
I hear more slamming popping sounds- gunshots?
"Ohhhhhkay..."
I hang up and go out to the living room where I find Jay looking out a window. I'm a totaly wreck.
"What is happening to her?"
"I dunno," he answers. "Cops are here."
From outside someone shouts "Gimmie the key, gimmie the key" and our gate flies open and at least seven huge LAPD shadows race across our darkened courtyard. Broken glass crunches under solid boots.
Several tense moments go by- more yelling and screaming, punctuated by staccato barkings from the officers. A few cops come out and stand in the courtyard.
Jay decides to go out and learn what's going on. Terrified, I stay put on the couch. I'm convinced bullets will fly at any moment. Paramedics arrived and trooped a medical parade through the courtyard.
Jay later told me that he saw one of our neighbors in handcuffs, saying, "you have to arrest me, there's blood everywhere."
From my window, I saw an older man being marched out through our courtyard by the cops. They had him in some ninja-grip, but he was doubled over and sobbing. Shortly after him followed the paramedics, who had folded a gurney into a wheel-chair position, and the person in the chair was handcuffed to its armrails- the person was wrapped from the neck down in white sheets stained with bright red blood, and from my vantage point, I swear to god, IT LOOKED LIKE HER LEGS HAD BEEN CHOPPED OFF. Dark red stains seeped down the front of the sheets. The woman in the chair lolled her head around and stared vacantly, moaning softly.
Jay finally came back and relayed what he'd seen- he said the cops were laughing and joking around after the arrests. Another night in Hollywood.
After not getting back to sleep and a long day at my internship, I came home, saw the broken glass in the courtyard still and saw a shattered window on the thrid floor. I wondered if he'd tried to push her legs-first out the window and that's what caused the gashes...
I went to the apartment complex's office in the basement of my building. I wanted to know what had happened. The people down there are perpetually rude, but I was freaked out. I didn't feel safe.
When I got down to the office, I was met with the typical blank stares of the Morlocks who work there. "Hey, I just wanted to know if there was any resolution to what happened this morning."
Blink blink. "What do you mean what happened this morning?" asks an irritated woman.
"You know, the screaming, possible gunshots, the police?"
"Ma'am nothing happened here at this building."
I'm amazed- is she denying this? "There was a woman screaming bloody murder- we all heard it."
They look around at each other, sheepishly.
The woman finally rolls her eyes and says, "There was a domestic disturbance, that's all. No big deal."
"Ah, so something DID happen."
She doesn't like being called out. "It's really none of your business."
"None of my business? No big deal?!? There's broken glass all over the courtyard,and I had to call 911 at 4 in the morning. I think that qualifies it as 'my business.'"
"Well, it doesn't concern you, it won't happen again, so you can go back upstairs." Wow she was a bitch.
"OK, well, it concerns me if there's some psycho in our building- I think I have a right to know whether or not I'm safe in my own building."
"It's a domestic disturbance, which means it's not random- and it happened on the third floor- you're on, what..." she pauses.
"The first floor," I answered.
"See," she said, throwing her hands up. "They're not even on your floor."
I'm more than a little sarcastic at this point. "So if they're firing gunshots at each other, it wouldn't even hit me?"
"Exactly."
"OK, well, I feel better. Thanks so much!"
Two weeks after that, I awoke to news vans literally lining our street. A reporter was just wrapping up her spot, and as her cameraman wrapped cables, I asked her what happened. "One of your neighbors was found dead this morning. He was naked and tied to a chair, stabbed over thirty times. Care to comment?" The camera man flips his camera to his shoulder and starts recording, and suddenly a microphone is in my face.
"Uh, no. No thank you."
I'm not worried at all- it didn't happen on my floor.
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