Drug deal gone bad

The prosecutor said it was a drug deal gone bad.

It made me think, do drug deals ever go good?

Let me back up and explain what happened.

On Wednesday of this week, as I was doing my route, the paper carrier (who I am on pretty good terms with) stopped to let me know that there was a whole city block roped off by the police who were doing an investigation due to a shooting which had occurred at 6:00a.m. that morning. He said he wanted to let me know because when I got there I wouldn’t be able to deliver the mail for that block. As I went through the route, I got more information about that block on my route and which house was under investigation. Apparently, after the shooting, a certain house quite close to where the victim was hit was suspected by the police so they went in and began searching the house. Into the afternoon, the police found two men hiding in the attic. They also found two men hiding inside the walls of the home. The fire department began taking a saw to the walls of the home to make sure no one else was in there. One customer told me that they had built a hideaway room inside a wall in the house. The landlord of the home told me he wasn’t too happy about that.

What happened that led to the shooting? Allegedly, the would-be victim came to the home to buy cocaine. The alleged shooter brought him there, had him wait in the car, and went inside to secure the deal. Then after a bit, the shooter came out and tried to rob the would-be victim. Think about it, if you are set to buy a bunch of cocaine, you probably have a sizable sum on you. Instead of giving in, the would-be victim jumped out of the car and fled on foot. The shooter shot three shots down the street at him as he fled. One bullet grazed his leg, one missed completely, and the other went into his back and through his stomach. He fell to the ground yelling, “I’m hit, I’m hit.” At that time, approximately 6:00a.m., a lady at that end of the block was walking her German shepherd. She heard the three shots and saw the man fall to the ground. The police were called who then roped off the block immediately.

By the time I got there to deliver the mail, the police had narrowed their investigation site to only four houses. A lady was allowed to leave her home and then return later. As she was returning, she came out to meet me in order to get her mail. There were only three letters that I couldn’t deliver. It certainly has been a topic of discussion on my route. I’m really not delivering in that bad of a neighborhood. In fact, that block happens to be one of my favorites because there are some folks who live there who are really nice. One lady makes Irish potatoes and other goodies for me at Christmas and other holidays. She gave the Irish potatoes recipe to my wife twice. My wife lost it twice. Another neighbor offers me cold water on the hot summer days. He and his wife have two daughters who live within a one block radius. One of the daughters has a teen daughter of her own who won four tickets to Cedar Point from a radio station and gave them to me since they would be unable to use them. The other daughter gave me a little, ceramic frog in a postal carrier uniform one Christmas. Another younger fellow on the block owns his own power washing business operating out of a van that he has customized. He and I joke around quite a bit. One lady bought me a very nice daily devotional book one Christmas. My wife and I read it every day that year. She also has a young foster boy who comes out and asks me how I’m doing.

I’m going to close with a controversial type thought. I’ve often thought of writing about racial distinctions. Given the information above, do you have a preconceived picture in your mind of whether certain people I was writing about were white or black? Are your thoughts prejudiced one way or the other? Consider this, all the people that I wrote nice things about, half of them are white, and half of them are black, but you don’t have a clue which is which. Now, do I dare tell you what color the shooter is? Would that be a racial statement if I did? How about this, I’ll let you read for yourself if you want to. Here are the links.

The initial story:


The crime solved:


Have fun and stay busy – Luke 19:13

-The Orange Mailman

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