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Discussion in 'In the News' started by Boy Racer, Oct 2, 2007.
The People's Republic of Maryland is at it again, this time in Baltimore: Baltimore Sun story.
Dead link. The story is also at the Boston Herald.
I've lived in Baltimore. I once needed police assistance while two guys tried to beat down my door. It took 28 minutes for them to arrive, at which point I was cuffed and frisked, because I'd mentioned to the 911 operator that I had a gun.[/url]
Thats truely sad A$$ crap!
I can't recall ever hearing anything good about Baltimore, even among liberals.
Glad I don't live in MD anymore. Though my dad still does.
That really happened to you?
I completely believe it. Don't get me started on that hole of a city, much less the state. Most political law enforcement in the country short of the BATFE.
Does anyone watch The Wire?
Yep. I was living on the South side (same as the West side featured in The Wire), in the appropriately-named Brooklyn area.
I was in one of those apartment buildings where you have to enter the code on the keypad, then climb the narrow, dark staircase to your flat.
I noticed that I didn't hear the door slam shut behind me, and then I saw two guys storming in. They had their eyes set on me, and both looked pretty...motivated.
It was like something out of a movie. I tore up the stairs, got my door open, and had to slam several times as the first one tried to push it open. They started pounding and kicking on it. This was at 9:28PM.
I called 911, and the operator was slow and unconcerned. I told her, "look, I've got a gun, and if they bust through, I'm going to have to use it." She replied that I could be held criminally liable if I did so
I said, "then you guys better get here fast," and hung up. I kept the gun (a Rossi snubby) pointed at the door for the next 40 seconds or so, until they gave up. Thank goodness for those heavy metal doors they put in slum apartments.
I waited a few minutes, and when I checked, the coast was clear. Screw it, I wanted to get OUT. So I figured I'd get something to eat. Right as I grabbed my keys, I got a knock on the door from Baltimore's finest. This was 9:56.
When I answered the door, they asked me if I was Mr. F. I said yes, and one of them grabbed me by the shoulder and said to put my hands behind my back. It happens really quick, and out of reflex, I struggled.
The officer slammed me face-down on the floor and held his knee in my back while his buddy performed an unauthorized search of my apartment. He kept yelling, "where are the guns?" I replied that there was just one, and that it was in a safe under the sink.
I told him the combination, and when he pulled it out, he berated me for keeping it loaded. He then emptied the cylinder and pocketed the bullets.
I was 21 years old, and I was scared out of my wits before they got there. I didn't have the energy or will to argue. After checking around some more, they asked to see my permit (to own, not carry) and they expected me to sit and dictate a report. I got my second wind and told them to leave my gun, my bullets and any other property of mine alone and to get the *$%& out.
I told them I'd be documenting everything and calling a lawyer, and the one who'd body-slammed me took down a description of the suspects and left with a "verbal statement."
I did, in fact, call my lawyer, but she told me just what suing the city would entail in terms of time and money, and it just wasn't feasible. She made a point of mentioning that, as soon as any jury heard "gun," my chances of winning would be shot.
Ironic postscript: there were drug dealers and the like in that neighborhood, and I did nothing to provoke them. Apparently, such behavior got me labelled as "cool," and after the cops left, a couple of them asked me about it. I told them what happened (I didn't want them thinking I'd called the cops on them), and one of them said, "those boys aren't from around here, so let us know if you see 'em again."
Yeah, that was life for me for about five months.