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There is a Fucking Law & Order Scene Going on Half a Block...

By Briennewalsh @BrienneWalsh
Photo Post There is a fucking Law & Order scene going on half a block away from my apartment this morning. In the red brownstone on Clinton between Union and Sackett, to be exact.
Caleb was the one who spotted it first. “Something happened on our block last night,” he said. “There’s cops all over the place.”
“It’s probably just a car accident,” I said. I was still in bed.
“No, seriously, there are Forensics vans and cops walking around with clipboards all over the place,” he said.
That got me out of bed quickly, and into my favorite pair of gray sweatpants. “Do you think it’s a serial killer?” I said. That seemed the first logical thing that would draw such a crowd of law enforcement officials. That, or a husband stabbing his wife to death and trying to make it look like they were robbed. I know all of this from watching television shows.
“You better hope not,” he said.
I walked out the front door, and to the line of police tape. There, a single cop had his fingers holstered in his belt buckles. Caleb also came out, but I had him stand at a distance. I knew I could get more information by myself.
“I know a million people are probably asking you, but what happened here?” I said, sweetly. From my vantage point, not wearing my glasses, I couldn’t see much.
“I can’t tell you that,” he said. He was dressed in full regalia, and he was very gruff. I loved him. 
“Can you tell me which house it is?”
He pointed to the red house. I was kind of shocked he gave that much away. From my experience, watching television shows, I was pretty sure he was supposed to say, “I can’t share that information with you, m’am.”
As we were talking, an unmarked SUV pulled up, and two detectives wearing suits burst forth. One looked exactly like Ray Liotta. I shit you not. 
“Can I just ask you one more thing?” I said as the detectives strode underneath the yellow tape. “Is it a serial killer?”
The cop laughed. “No,” he said.
“Ok, phew,” I said. “Can I take a picture?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said. 
Behind me, another car of cops had pulled up. They rolled down the window. “You posing for a picture, Joe?” they howled. “You modeling?”
I felt like the entire situation had been staged for my benefit — the forensics vans and the no-bullshit detectives and this lonely man in full costume — and I loved it.
“Have a nice day, sir,” I said. “Thank you for your help.” Then I practically hopped home. What a way to start a morning.
Seriously, though, I think television came to life down the street from my apartment this morning. Either that, or something really serious happened, and if that’s the case, I’m sorry for the victims.

There is a fucking Law & Order scene going on half a block away from my apartment this morning. In the red brownstone on Clinton between Union and Sackett, to be exact.

Caleb was the one who spotted it first. “Something happened on our block last night,” he said. “There’s cops all over the place.”

“It’s probably just a car accident,” I said. I was still in bed.

“No, seriously, there are Forensics vans and cops walking around with clipboards all over the place,” he said.

That got me out of bed quickly, and into my favorite pair of gray sweatpants. “Do you think it’s a serial killer?” I said. That seemed the first logical thing that would draw such a crowd of law enforcement officials. That, or a husband stabbing his wife to death and trying to make it look like they were robbed. I know all of this from watching television shows.

“You better hope not,” he said.

I walked out the front door, and to the line of police tape. There, a single cop had his fingers holstered in his belt buckles. Caleb also came out, but I had him stand at a distance. I knew I could get more information by myself.

“I know a million people are probably asking you, but what happened here?” I said, sweetly. From my vantage point, not wearing my glasses, I couldn’t see much.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. He was dressed in full regalia, and he was very gruff. I loved him. 

“Can you tell me which house it is?”

He pointed to the red house. I was kind of shocked he gave that much away. From my experience, watching television shows, I was pretty sure he was supposed to say, “I can’t share that information with you, m’am.”

As we were talking, an unmarked SUV pulled up, and two detectives wearing suits burst forth. One looked exactly like Ray Liotta. I shit you not. 

“Can I just ask you one more thing?” I said as the detectives strode underneath the yellow tape. “Is it a serial killer?”

The cop laughed. “No,” he said.

“Ok, phew,” I said. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he said. 

Behind me, another car of cops had pulled up. They rolled down the window. “You posing for a picture, Joe?” they howled. “You modeling?”

I felt like the entire situation had been staged for my benefit — the forensics vans and the no-bullshit detectives and this lonely man in full costume — and I loved it.

“Have a nice day, sir,” I said. “Thank you for your help.” Then I practically hopped home. What a way to start a morning.

Seriously, though, I think television came to life down the street from my apartment this morning. Either that, or something really serious happened, and if that’s the case, I’m sorry for the victims.


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