Picture it:
Saturday July 30. Morning. 1:57am to be exact. I awake to the sound of someone banging on the window behind my head. No, I think, that's not someone banging on the window... that is gunfire.
"Hit the deck" I don't remember saying, to my mate in bed next to me. What a silly thing to say.
We scrambled for the ground. I peeked out the window blinds. Two young black males with automatic weapons with their faces covered, were 10 feet from our window, shooting at someone running outside along the fence. We live in a gated building. The fence surrounds our parking lot. Whoever was running was also shooting, directly at the two men in front of me. I could see the flash of his gun as he fired toward us. All I could hear was extremely loud "pop! pop! pop! pop! pop!'s" in close succession.
I ducked down, grabbed my phone, and called 911. My mate did the same thing and went in another room. I was on hold for a few minutes waiting for an operator. When one finally answered, she said, "Saint Louis emergency, this is Renee." I paused, for a moment, because usually they say something like "What is the address of your location" etc. So I explained the situation to Renee, that there was a gun battle erupting outside our apartment, and no sooner did I explain to her what was happening that another barrage of gun fire exploded alongside the west facing window, down by the outside stairwell to the entrance of the building. I heard screaming.
"Get down!" I yelled for my mate, who was still on the phone waiting for 911 in the next room.
I peeked out the blinds again to answer Renee's questions, few and far between as they were. I saw a stream of young ladies wearing booty shorts and high heels following a group of men with their faces covered - with t-shirts, COVID masks, etc. One gal had a to-go box of food in her hand. No one appeared frantic or in distress. They all appeared non-chalant, as if this was a regular occurrence for a Saturday at 2:AM. You know, just your average morning of murder and mayhem.
The operator, Renee, said she would send the police right over.
My mate was also with 911, standing in the hallway by the front door to the apartment. We heard a gaggle of excited voices ruminating over what was happening. Whether these were concerned neighbors or those involved, I am still unsure.
20 minutes later...
Police lights. The two men who I saw originally, were accompanied by what I counted to be 5 other men (later this turned out to be a group of 9 but forgive me if my counting abilities were slightly stymied at the moment) slowly marched, with the women in tow, toward the pedestrian gate where the police were waiting (waiting? Not marching in dramatically with weapons in hand? No). Their weapons were gone, but a few of them still had their faces covered.
I do not understand what happened, why it happened, how it happened, or why they appeared to be turning themselves in. I also don't understand the complete lack of intensity to these perpetrator's behavior. No one was tense, everyone was completely calm.
Whenever anything happens that is insanely crazy to us, we can never - let me highlight that.. NEVER find anything about it in the news, social media, crime blotters, etc. I have no clue why not one single person from this apartment building posted anything about it on any of the outlets that we so often use to connect to one another.
My mate, however, did finally find a very bare bones version of an
arrest report, indicating the ages of those involved, which was anywhere
from 16 years of age to 40.
This was all a crazy nightmare, and I can't believe it happened. Perhaps I am still in shock.
And now, for a picture of a bullet hole in a neighbor's car windshield:
So.. that was my weekend. How was yours?
