At 3:37am I woke up and called the cops. Again. I always call the cops.
This time is was because a drunk Mexican teenager got dissed at a club, drove to the home of the dissER (who happens to live across the street from me) and broke a window in her parent's home. The girl he was mad at wasn't even back from the club yet, so he aired his grievances with her father. He yelled, waved his fist, stomped back and forth across the yard, yelled some more, reached behind his back to his belt line several times (was he packing heat?) then got in his car and peeled out of there. It was then, of course, that the police arrived. They always come after. They swept the home with floodlights, talked to the father/homeowner, stood with hand on hips and left.
It seemed that the criminal I had dialed so hard to apprehand had gotten away. However, I was in for a treat. The wife came home from work (restaurant industry). As she pulled into her driveway, the same drunk Mexican teenager rammed her car with his.
I called the police and happily reported the news. As I talked to the dispatcher, the husband got into a fistfight with the kid on the front lawn. I hung up and made myself comfortable at the picture window. A neighbor came out from another house to break up the fight. White guy in boxer shorts only. He was pretty buff and had his dog with him. She was excited and barked once at the fighters. That sparked an idea for the white guy.
He yelled "My dog is a police dog, and she'll eat your face off if you don't get the hell out of here."
He was obviously lying, but kept trying to quell the teen's aggression with the face-eaten-off threat. It was really fun to watch him try to sell the idea of his dog being a killer.
The second arrival of the police ushered in the final act of this story. They pointed their guns at the two men who were fighting - they really do have laser pointers on them. Each fighter had two red dots moving around on his shirt.
I got all the details about the club stuff from eavesdropping on the lady homeowner as she talked to the cops. The husband didn't speak English, so she translated his side of the story, too. Had to open a window and lean out to hear everything because they were all the way across the street. It was cold, but I toughed it out. As she caught the police up on everything, five more emergency vehicles arrived. A herd of firemen, medics, and more cops sauntered down the street and formed a big circle around the two homeowners and the drunk teenager. Highly trained, uniformed gawkers.
The bad guy is in jail now. I don't consider myself a hero. I just did what comes naturally to me: If I sense trouble, I pull the curtain back a little and dial 911.