[A passage from a letter, 15/16 December 1991]
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I
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just had a rather
unnerving experience, though it turned out to be nothing serious—at least, not
for me or mine. A man was shot and killed in the vacant lot next to our house.
I visited my brother earlier today (literally yesterday; it’s a little after
one in the morning), and when I came back, my house was cordoned off and the
area was crawling with police. I couldn’t find out anything about what was
happening; officers assured me that I could get in to my house but they
themselves couldn’t help me. Several of them as well as various bystanders told
me what happened—all very different stories—but apparently a man, who may or
may not have been fleeing the scene of a crime, stabbed a policeman, who
retaliated by shooting him. One bystander said that the man was handcuffed and
lying on the ground when the officer shot him—four times, according to her.
This is a little weird, even for North Portland. [16 Dc 1991]
[The “vacant lot” is now the site of a dance studio, and “our
house” is now the site of a vacant office building.]
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