This morning, My neighbor and friend Woody went downstairs to walk his dog Max and discovered that overnight, someone painted the wall of our building white, leaving paint rollers, paint cans and still wet paint all over our wall, sidewalk and front door. Infuriated because this is not the first time this has been done to us, he called me and his girlfriend and my friend Michelle downstairs to see what was done. After a few minutes of shock and anger, we called the 63rd precinct to report the crime and eagerly awaited their arrival…

…that was 10:30am this morning. It is now 4:41pm – and so far – the police have yet to arrive.

When this first happened to us on August 21, 2004, Michelle called the police to report the incident. And even after hours of relentless calling – they never bothered to appear, investigate, or file a report – and today was no different.

Woody made the first call to the 63rd precinct this morning, and they said they would send a squad car down. After an hour of waiting for police that never came, I called back the precinct and asked the police officer who answered the phone to please send the officers that we requested to our location. After asking me if I called earlier, he said that he just gave our complaint to an officer and that a squad car would be here, “shortly.” Again, after a half hour of waiting, I called back and asked him where the officers were. He then told me that they came by and saw no graffiti on the steel gates on the pharmacy. If the officer that allegedly came to our building would have taken the time to simply turn right on our corner, they would have seen the obvious graffiti for themselves – but I guess they were too busy with all of the other crime that took place on Thanksgiving morning.

After hearing this ridiculous story, I asked the officer to send the squad car back to the building where I would wait for them outside. After an annoyed sigh, the officer on the other end of the phone said he would call them in the car and call me back with their ETA – and I never heard from him again.

Quite frankly, I don’t even care about the graffiti, because I live in Brooklyn and are used to the trademarked eyesore. What makes me sick and angry is that the police did not even care about what had happened, and did not even bother to show up and investigate. I realize that it is Thanksgiving Day and no one wants to work, but how long would checking out a wall covered in paint actually take? And moreover, aren’t we as citizens supposed to be provided with police assistance when we request it?

This is not the first time that I have asked the police for help and gotten none. On November 10, 1997, my mother was hit by a car. Thankfully, she was not badly injured, just very shaken up. The driver of the vehicle got out of his car, demanded that she stop shaking – and told her she was fine before pulling away. When we went to the police station to file the report, the police interviewed the driver – and then dropped the case when they were convinced that my mother hit the car instead of the other way around.

When I was a child, I looked at police officers and protectors, role models and heroes. But it seems to me that each time I have to interact with them – they show me that protecting and serving the public is the farthest thing from their minds.

Thanks for today’s assistance officers. I hope I never really need your help.