| || |
July 24, 2008 - Joe Gorman
Not too many things freak me out on the job, but looking for a comment from someone who knew Saturday's homicide victim was one of them.
I went to the address listed for 25-year-old Ricardo Moctezuma on Burlington Avenue on the North Side, who was killed early Saturday morning after an argument at a Poland Avenue bar.
As I have written before, going to the home of homicide victims is not one of my favorite things to do. It is necessary sometimes to show our readers what kind of person the victim was and how such a tragedy can affect someone.
I am always nervous when I do these and the reactions I have gotten have run the gamut: I've encountered nonstop sobbing, stoicism, and even thanks from people who have said they appreciate someone trying to tell people about their loved one.
I have also gotten refusals, ranging from polite to bitter to colorful language.
That being said, there are also some neighborhoods I refuse to go to, although those are few and far between (the Westlake Terrace is one I had a bad experience in covering the murder of a baby and I will not go back without an armed escort), but by and large, you can go just about anywhere in the city -- especially in daylight.
Anyway, the address for Moctezuma was a small, two-unit apartment building on a hill on Burlington Avenue that is just beginning its ascent. As I drove by, there was one car in the small parking lot but no windows were open on an extremely hot day and the air conditioner was not running. I figure no one was home, but I was already there, so I parked and rang the doorbell.
As I waited for a response, it was eeirly quiet, even though it was about three in the afternoon. All I could hear was the sound of the traffic on nearby streets. And I began to think that inside, less than 24 hours ago, was a 25-year-old guy getting ready to go out, maybe hang out with his buddies or look for the opportunity to meet someone new and now the guy is dead, probably over something stupid, which almost every murder case boils down to.
Thinking back to imaging a young person getting ready for a night out (which I used to do all the time before I had kids) it was almost as if there was a presence that was hovering there. I reached for the doorbell again and heard a crash in the distance, which startled me. Could it have come from inside?
Apparently not. Nobody answered the second ring, either. I decided it was time to leave, and quickly.
No comments posted for this article.
Post a Comment