Wednesday night, there was a persistent pounding at the door, wouldn't let up. Intuition told me it wasn't a bible salesman. I was right. It was two detectives from the Sheriff's department. Uh-oh.
I was right, uh-oh. The female detective (not what you'd expect, overweight with adult acne) said she was worried about my neighbors.
The male-alpha detective--pushy, yuppie, stylishly dressed, pretty much what'd you expect--wouldn't let me get a word in, hammering me with questions I couldn't fathom. I asked them if my neighbors were in trouble. They said, "no."
Eight months or so ago, the gal living next door told me they were moving a couple blocks over. Said they'd be around. Seemed as happy as I'd seen her. She popped up a couple weeks later. I asked if they needed help moving, she said, "we're done, thanks, anyway." I never had a clue when they moved.
The house has been abandoned since.
The day after my detective grilling, the media landed. One of the local news stations broad-sided me, telling me the woman I used to live next door to shot herself, along with another woman, in a local, public park. A suicide pact. Twin sisters.
I was stunned. They asked if they could interview me on camera. In a daze, I said, "sure." Stupid. They led me, told me what to say, baited me. I was reeling it all in while they reeled me in on camera. Don't even remember what I said.
After that, the media carnival launched. Another network team came. Then another. And another.
The vulture's were circling.
After my first two attacks, I locked up, shut down and shut up.
Damn. All I know is that my neighbor was a very nice person, one of the few people on the street I actually liked. My heart goes out to the family.
In retrospect, I'm wondering if I could've done something, helped her out, maybe been a better neighbor. She told me she was depressed a year or so ago over the fence. But that's where our friendship stopped. Over the fence. God, I wish it hadn't. I knew nothing about her, other than knowing she was not doing so well. I didn't even know her last name. Shoulda' got to know her better. Maybe things would've turned out different. But I didn't do anything.
I wish I had.
I wish I'd reached over that fence.