As it turns out, the guy who came into my house on Halloween morning was the guy who lives two doors down from me. Our daughters have played together.
I wonder what I might have done differently had I known it was him. I really didn’t recognize him. At the same time, as the district attorney mentioned, he wasn’t ever in my house, nor was he invited.
Also, I was told by the arresting officer that he was totally loaded up on drugs. I did smell some weird fumes coming off of him when I passed by him to get the phone. And yeah, I know what pot smells like (Brian’s college roommates were quite the dope fiends), and this wasn’t it, although it’s probably that there might have been some mixed in. I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve had a “good time” at parties, and I’ve never not been able to find my own house afterwards.
It’s weird. I feel bad about getting him in trouble; calling the cops. Maybe I shouldn’t feel bad. I don’t want there to be any hard feelings. Hopefully the 60 days of drug and alcohol rehabilitation will help him out a little. Certainly the fine won’t. I really hope this doesn’t mess with his ability to see his kid somehow. It would kill me not to see Abby.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but still.
