The Madness Among Us

Our Neighborhood's Quest for Normalcy"

Part two

Stories of fear and scary incidents continued to surface and spread throughout the neighborhood.

Every time Matt entered the coffeehouse, my heart skipped a beat. I was worried not only for my safety but also for the safety of my customers. My store was only 250 sq. feet, so his rage could cause severe damage if it erupted during a busy time of day. He’d already thrown a hot coffee at a customer, but luckily he missed him.

Our beat cop, John Minardi, told me, “Put my number on speed dial.” I used to call John “The Super Lieutenant.” He was everything we love in a policeman. Competent, intelligent, fearless, kind. He respected and guided young people, never judging them by color or nationality. The whole neighborhood loved him. When he walked the community, I breathed a sigh of short-lived relief.

I kept trying to learn more about Matt’s condition to help us figure out the best way to talk with him, but laws prevented it.

I witnessed an exchange between Matt and his father that broke my heart. It was late afternoon when they entered the shop for lunch. Matt’s father ordered sandwiches for him and Matt. When the food arrived, Matt pleaded with his father, “Please, Dad, can I come with you today? I’m lonely. I miss you. Please, Dad, please.”

His father turned to him, as cold as ice. NO, Matt, you can’t. He begged, “I’ll be quiet; I won’t talk to you, please. I want to sit near you. His father turned to him, “No, I said you can’t.” Matt lowered his head, sadly looking at the floor.

That broke my heart. Tears streamed down my face as I walked into the bathroom and cried. It was sad on so many levels.

But, weeks later.

A woman from China took an apartment in his building. She was a professor at Yale. Matt hated all Asian Americans. Chinese, Thai, Japanese, Cambodian, Filipino, Vietnamese, all.

One day, as the professor exited the building, Matt hid behind the door. As she walked down the front steps, the railing on her left, Matt pushed her sideways so she fell over the railing into the bushes below. When the professor screamed, neighbors came rushing to help her up. They soon realized they needed to call an ambulance because she twisted her back and received deep cuts from the bushes below the railing.

I thought that was the last straw, but there was more. A few weeks later, a neighbor in his building told us Matt showed him a gun. He didn’t know if it was loaded, how, or where he purchased it, but that was the last straw.

Along with others in our community, we started a petition to have him removed from our neighborhood. We stated emphatically that we would sue the city if anyone else were hurt or terrified by Matt’s mental illness. It took a year, but finally, he was relocated across town.

We never saw him again.