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Today’s Entry Brought To You By The Letters ATF

Four cars with guys from the ATF in Washington showed up at my place this morning to “talk” to me. That’s right, four. With ATF Agents. From Washington. For little ol’ me.

(Two of the four, belonging to Agents Michael Moore and Dave Stone.)

I almost never answer the door to people I don’t know, so when I heard the knock this morning and, through the peephole, saw a couple of men in ties on the other side, I thought Meh. Jehovah’s Witnesses, and went back to what I was doing pre-interruption.

When the rapping came again, louder and far more insistent, I just knew something bad was up. A peek out the blinds of the window and my earlier thought turned to Oh my God -- FEDS! I mean, suits and shiny shoes? At my little hole in the Ghetto? Come on. Who else could it be?

I watched as two of their vehicles barricaded the parking area and a man standing outside the pair of automobiles fished out his cell phone. Aha! I know this trick. I ran for my own cell phone and toggled the option to “vibrate only” -- right as “Restricted” rang through.

Multiple Agents in attendance, their pounding on my door, their calling my number, their circling outside like vultures... the sad thing is, I know they’re just trying to intimidate me yet it still works on me. I was frightened. Plus, while they were busy terrorizing me they’d also simultaneously targeted for the same treatment members of my family who live nearby. Do you know how hard it is to think and function under such conditions?

I put Mr. Restricted on ignore and dialed my lawyer. Who was in court. After playing a bit of phone tag -- to the ongoing tattoo of knuckles striking the door -- I was advised to not get in a stand-off. A stand-off! Moi in a stand-off? Stand-offs equal dead. I can’t blog if I’m dead.

Ultimately I let the men in.

The sole reason they graced me with their presence is because of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Special Agent John Stoltz. You know, the not-really-a-JADE-Task-Force-Officer JADE Task Force Officer. The one I picked on minimally for site filler weeks ago. The one I insinuated I wouldn’t bother again if he didn’t make ado out of a nothing thing. Mhmm. Him.

What part of “I’ll leave you alone if you leave me alone” is confusing to these fellows? What part of “I don’t respond well to bullying” isn’t sinking in their collective head? You would think at least one affiliate with Law Enforcement -- just one! -- could figure out what does and what does not work with me and, I don’t know, go with it.

It’d be understandable maybe if I’ve been tweaking them lately, but, for the love of logic, my last post is, in part, an apology for my not blogging!

Anyway, I’ve done nothing illegal. (I feel like I should make that my mantra or something.) Apparently I haven’t even done enough to incur a search warrant. Or an interrogation. Or even an official announcement. But they sent four cars. With ATF Agents. From Washington. For little ol’ me.

(Their business card. Yes, really.)