There's a dead body outside my house. It is 5:38am in the morning. I live near Taylor and Market.
I work nights, a ten hour shift tonight, and I just returned by cab about an hour ago after enjoying a late night breakfast at Grubsteak, Polk and Pine. There is a dead body outside my house.
The cab couldn't turn onto Taylor from Golden gate due to the yellow tape blocking the way. He dropped me off on the corner of Golden Gate and Market telling me there must be an accident. I immediately thought he was wrong, and knew the "right" conclusion, but assumed there would be no evidence for me to see. There is a dead body outside my house.
An officer was attending flares he had placed along the pedestrian crossing along the Market side of the intersection. I got his attention by addresssing him as "Officer," and told him I lived along Taylor - where I was prohibited from entering due to the yellow tape.
He told me I would have to walk a block further, and then double black along...
(It's 5:48 now and I have just checked through my curtains again and see that the body has been removed, it has been nearly an hour since I have been home - dawn is breaking now)
...and then double back along Turk, and ask an officer to escort me to my door.
I ask him what had happened. I remember clearly that he would not look me in the eyes. Not that this is important. It is just something that is not done in this part of the world. You do not look anyone in the eyes at 6th and Market. Though I remember he would not meet my gaze, my recollection of his words is hazy. There was flippancy in his response. Something like: "You'll know by the body."
An elderly gentleman was walking behind me. He asked the officer something I did not hear, and we, after he had received a quick response, happened to conincide our paces as we both headed down Market.
I remember trying to say something about what had happpened. He said something about hearing the cop tell me about a body, and then we walked in silence.
I turned onto Turk, leaving my companion on his seperate course, and headed back towards Tayler.
When I got to Taylor, the familiar yellow tape was up. I hailed the nearest officer with "Officer." I told him that I lived on this block and needed to get home. He told me to cross the street, with words and a gesture. I followed his direction, and as we were both crossing I asked him what had happened and he said in a B flat, "A shooting."
I could not see the body. a jimmy-rigged yellow tarpaulin had been used to shield the view. There was no ambulance.
He told me he had to speak to someone before I could pass. I kmade some attempt at a joke - something about having to move out of the neighborhood. Thank God he ignored me. He left me on the otherside, and went to curb a curious elderly man from attempting to break through the yellow tape barrier mid-Taylor street.
I waited a few moments before "Hey" was directed at me. I received it and ducked under the yellow tape, heading to my house. The "Hey" officer, carrying a clip board, walked in stride with me. I asked him if they caught the guy. He shook his head negatively.
There was a dead body outside my house. I got my keys with practiced expertise, opened the metal gate, and stepped inside. Turning as I did so, I saw behind the Tarpaulin.
There was a dead man outside my house.
He wore a khaki/brown sweater.
He wore dark, perhaps black, pants.
He was wearing white sneakers, with dark colored stripes.
He was overweight.
He was Tall.
He was on his back.
Feet about two and a half feet apart.
His left foot pointed slightly to the right.
There were detectives within feet of me. I only call them detectives because they were there, and not in a uniform. They wore suits. Elderly gentlemen - overweight, cliche in all the ways we have been taught but for the fact that they looked rather sharp in their suits. I always assumed homicide detectives would wear something weathered and beaten, these guys dressed sharp. I have never owned a suit, so I do not know these things.
I closed the gate behind me, and lit a cigarette. This is my second dead body in my recollection of the real world. They both wore sneakers. The first was a motorcycle accident, this was not.
I don;t know why I stared, and I would not have left had not a voice from my buildings intercom said "No Loitering, move on." I have to admit I was thankful it said that, and gave me permission to leave. I have to admit I do not think I would have left otherwise. Not out of morbid curiosity - believe what you will - more so because I think the dead deserve the respect of witness.
I hope that makes sense.
I climbed up to my apartment, and noticing the time, called someone I love on the East Coast. To hear a voice, three thousand miles away.
I don't know. I hope we hear about this. I hope this somehow means something in the grand scheme of things. I know it has happened countless times outside my realm, but today there was a tall, overweight, khaki sweateredm white sneaker-wearing human being cut down outside my house.
If there is a God, and I hope there is, I hope he helps those who find his killers, whatever their reasons.
It's 6:29 now. I can hear the street cleaners I think.