On July 21, 2016, five days after we returned from our trip to Austria, still jet lagged, we had an early dinner and sent the boys upstairs with their iPads to prolong their bedtime another hour. Wolfgang and I were sitting on the couch watching tv and just started looking at photos from our trip. We heard what sounded like firecrackers on the street behind our house, followed by what sounded like a rocket that hit our windows where we were sitting and then things started flying into our living room. I hit the ground between the couch and the coffee table. Wolfgang immediately stood up and looked out the windows. There were no cars around. Whoever did this was still there or ran into a house. At this point, I thought it was a small bebe gun. Still… I didn’t want babes to hit me in the head. They were not bebe pellets, but bullets. I called the police. We didn’t know who did this. The police knew where it came from. It turns out that there were at least three bullets that entered our house. Luckily no one was injured or killed. Crime scene investigators were called out to retrieve the bullets for evidence. We are pretty sure where the shooter was standing and which house the went into. They think that we don’t know, but we do. Anyone who has come over to our house for anything whether visiting, fixing something all agree, without prompting where the three bullets originated. Well, I’ll leave it with I know who did it. The police questioned them twice that day. They chose to be deceitful. I chose to think that they came close to being murderers. Had the boys been downstairs, I would have been sitting where the bullets entered and more than likely have been struck. One bullet was lodged in the chair where I frequently sit. Another bullet hit something and landed a few inches from where Wolfgang’s foot was. Another bullet is still in our house lodge above the front door and window on the other side of our house. That bullet went straight through the house. (Insert any type of profanity here because I am definitely thinking it.) Months later, we realized that there is a bullet hole in the playroom. I guess one of the bullets ricocheted there. That is the PLAYROOM, the room where our boys play. You know this is unforgivable in my mind. (Insert any more profanities here. Feel free to use the ones you’ve already used.) Know that there is so much more to this that I am not writing. The anger I cannot put into words. The insecurities that we feel. The injustice that these people can carry on with their lives as if they didn’t do anything. I hope the stress decreases their lifespans because it definitely has impacted ours. And people wonder what is wrong with society now. This is it. They are teaching their children how to deceive and lie to everyone including the police. Parents of the year award goes to them!
This is the bullet that entered at my chest level and went through the house and lodged above the door.
What you can’t tell here is that there is a drop-off/hill between our house and the house behind us. Considering proximity, upward trajectory, the bullets still going upward, it doesn’t take a physics genius to place the shooter. It was not across the street. To confirm this, we took out a laser at night and connected the dots. Yeah. We know where the shooter was standing. Cowards. The “only” people who were supposedly home when this happened said they didn’t hear anything. Their garage door was open, the door to the back yard was open. Unless they are deaf, which they are not, they heard something. Come on, if they’re going to lie about it, be better liars. People down the street and across the lake heard it.
