A Visit From The Police

The girls are getting new furniture this weekend. To prepare, we've (OK, I've) been cleaning the room, moving furniture, and trying to de-clutter. I started this process last week because we anticipated the delivery to occur last weekend. It didn't happen...so hopefully tomorrow. The girls are incredibly excited for a brand new room.

Anyway, last Tuesday, when I had started cleaning, the phone rang. It was my sister, April who lives in Phoenix. We were chatting for a bit when I happened to look out the window and notice a car pulling up next to my driveway. It was one of those "official looking" cars, like a Crown Victoria or something like that...unmarked car. What the...??? A man and a woman step out of the car and approach the house. I tell my sister that I've got to go. I'll call her back. They ring the doorbell and they knock. OK, they mean business. A knock combined with the ring of the bell is some serious stuff. Doesn't look as if I can ignore this knock.

I answer the door, reluctantly. The man says hello and introduces himself as a local police officer (didn't catch his name). He introduces the woman as someone from the county prosecutor's office. "Is everything alright? Is my husband OK?" are my immediate questions. The man answers, "Yes, ma'am, everything is fine. Do you have a few minutes?" UH, NO. I can't even begin to wonder what they want with me. "Sure." I say, do I have a choice? He asks if they can come in, and I tell them that they can. I let them in the foyer and no further. He asks if there is somewhere we can go to talk. Are you kidding me? Talk? About what? We go into the kitchen and sit down at the table.

He begins by telling me that they are investigating a case involving sexual molestation. What? And how exactly am I involved? Last time I checked I didn't have a sexual deviant on my list of friends. He shows me a picture of a man whom they are investigating. Do I recognize him? Nope. Not one bit. Never saw the guy in my life. He says that they guy was my daughter's soccer coach, and I as well as others pressed charges against him. OK, but my daughter didn't play soccer. I wanted her to play, but she said no way. Then I notice that he has a spreadsheet in front of him with names and addresses on it that have been highlighted with a yellow marker. I see my address, but that's not my name next to my address. I realize that they've got the wrong person. I ask him if they are looking for the person whose name is on the spreadsheet. He says that he is. I tell him I'm not her. He realizes what they've done. They've made a HUGE mistake.


They both get up from the table like bats out of hell. I tell them that we've lived here for 2 1/2 years and that I don't know where this person is. He tells me that they'll find her. And just like that, they are gone. But I'm left with a heart that's racing and a nagging feeling that I know something about someone that I shouldn't. Something very personal.

Today, after a week and a half of dwelling on it, my husband contacted the chief of police with the hopes of speaking to him about the incident. He left a message. We'll see what comes of it.