“Get some rest,” the sergeant told me. “We’ll know more by morning.” I nodded—but I didn’t go home. Instead, I stayed out and started knocking on doors. The neighborhoods were waking up in fragments. Porch lights still on. Coffee brewing behind half-open blinds. People answered in slippers and hoodies, wary but relieved to see a uniform.
I took statements slowly, letting them talk past their nerves. One woman said she’d woken up because her dog wouldn’t stop growling. When she looked out the window, she saw a man walking down the sidewalk like he belonged there—head down, hands loose at his sides, moving fast but not running.