The Neighbor Has Finally Lost His Cool and Shot Someone
By: Jessika Lakin
Tags: This Happened To Me, Crime, Mental Illness, Fiction, Neighbors

Rain cascades over the roof as I hit the snooze for the third time. I’ve received less than six hours of sleep after driving back from a surgeon dinner in Houston late last night. A glance through one eyelid confirms I’m out of snoozes. Time to make the donuts!

A peek at my phone reveals a pleasant surprise. Peter has texted! I scramble to fix my reading glasses to my face.

Hey, doll. Everything okay over there?

Yes, as far as I know. Why?

It’s 6:20 AM. What an odd time to hear from him, and an ominous message at that.

I’m preparing my response when my phone starts to ring. “Look out your front window,” Peter says.

I walk to my office at the front of the house. Blue and red lights bounce against the white-painted walls before I reach the blinds. “Wow, something is going on,” I say.

“KXAN says there was a shooting just a few houses down from yours.”

“Shut up! No way!” I peek out the window to confirm the swirling spectacle of lights in a sea of police cars and an ambulance.

I live in a stretch of seven houses that share a semi-private driveway, a three-hundred yard stretch of concrete whose initial purpose was to keep our children safe from speeding drivers. This drive-way entrance is now taped off with yellow police tape, indicating our little section of the suburbs is now host to a crime scene.

“Holy shit!”

“Exactly, that’s why I was calling to make sure you’re alright.” Peter’s been radio silent since the end of January, his divorce nowhere near completion, and his interest all but vanished. I’m surprised to hear from him.

“I’ll bet it’s Rod Aggasi in the last house closest to Mayfield. The guy is a total a-hole, always threatening the neighbor kids if they step even one toe over his property line. He loses his shit even if you’re out on our shared drive in front of his house.”

“Sounds like a charming man,” Peter says.

“Oh, yeah. He came out with a shotgun a few years back after kids from the house next door chased a ball down between the cars Rod keeps parked out in the shared drive. The cars are kept there as a sort of block to his house. He even keeps these giant, concrete flower pots at the foot of his drive. His place looks like a model home with those things out front.”

“What’s going on?” My mom asks. She and Dad are down for their annual winter trip from Kansas to escape the snow and spend time with my girls as I travel for work.

“Looks like there was a shooting or something,” I tell her. “Peter, thanks for calling. I’m going to let you go.”

“Catch you later, and good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Who was that this early in the morning?” Mom asks.

“Peter. He saw the news and recognized the houses and mention of the street. He wanted to make sure we were all okay.”

“I think you’re right about it being a shooting. We slept with the window open last night. I heard something right around 3 AM.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, it woke me up from a dead sleep.”

“God, I didn’t hear anything from the back of the house. What did you hear exactly? The police may want to talk to you.”

“Two or three bangs. I immediately thought of gunfire. What do we think happened?”

“I’m betting it’s Rod at the end our row. You know how uptight he is. The only neighbor who’s ever had any luck with him is Neil.

“That’s because Neil is a perfect diplomat. Maybe not a perfect husband, but a good neighbor.”

“And dad.”

Mom nods in agreement. Neil had a knack for putting people at ease. The more aggressive they were, the more he was able to connect and keep people calm. He could make people right, even when they were wrong. The other neighbors hated Rod, but the girls and I stayed off of his radar because of Neil’s ability to relate to him. Neil should have been a professional mediator. My ex would have made loads more money than he had at handyman work or remodeling.

“Is it time to get the girls up?” Mom asks.

“Just about, although I don’t know how I’ll get them to school with the police tape blocking as all in.”

“Maybe it’ll be lifted by 8.”

“Maybe so.”

The rain continues to fall from the sky ninety minutes later. The tape remains adhered to the end posts of a four-foot iron fence separating our shared driveway from the street. Still, a quick check with one of the policemen gives us the green light to leave.

Their investigation into the shooting of a young woman in front of Rod’s house is nearly complete. Although the police won’t give details, the news reports what I had assumed on my call with Peter. Rod killed an individual in “self-defense” as she allegedly tried breaking into his home.

Rod is from Iran. He emigrated from Iran in the late 80s and settled into a career with the IRS after leaving the Army. It was unclear whether he served in the military with our country or his, but the assumption was it accounted for his weaponry proficiency.

Police and news cameras hover around our homes into the late afternoon as we gleaned one detail after another on the shooting: a street light had been knocked over half a mile up the street by the train tracks, and an abandoned car had been found less than a hundred yards away.

The neighbors and I speculate the owner was the young woman whose body was discovered on the other side of the fence closest to the street. She’d likely been drinking and wanted to avoid a DWI when she walked away from her car, but she encountered an entirely different type of trouble choosing to stand in front of Rod’s house at three in the morning.

She could have stood in front of any other house and gone home safely once her friend picked her up, but she didn’t. If only she could have predicted a trigger-happy man with multiple weapons and cameras waited for her (or anyone).

Rod has been a manageable nightmare since moving in several years earlier. Something tells us he’ll become more arrogant and aggressive should he successfully use the Castle-Defense and be cleared of all charges.

For now, Rod remains locked safely away in the local county jail, hoping to gather up his resources to make bail. The neighbors and I breathe easily at the moment, but time will tell how aggressive our neighbor chooses to get.