Parking Lot Blues

Ray shacked up with Sabina last January. This was about the time Sabina's roommate Adrian and her high-school-aged son moved away after death threats from a major shooting incident. Adrian's niece had been murdered. The tragedy was confounded by the fact that it was a case of mistaken identity. I found Adrian drunk on my steps Christmas morning and we had a long chat. I don't blame her for moving. I hope she's okay.

In February Sabina was moving boxes into garage #4. "We rented it for storage," she said, smiling. Many of the tenant apartments are so small they rent a garage for storing their off season clothes and their kids toys and bicycles.

The next month Ray and Sabina threw a big party in the parking lot, in front of their garage. "It's my kid's birthday and my birthday," she said. There were suddenly lots of people and chairs and tables and a big BBQ and loads of cars.

Aram, another garage renter, showed up and yelled, "We've got coronavirus, and there are no masks back here." He was angry that the partiers had blocked access to his garages. "I'm calling the landlord right now," he shouted, holding his phone to his ear, and then photographing the offending vehicles.

This past August Aram's two garages were robbed. "I think I know who did it," he said, "but the police told me that fingerprints would cost me 200 dollars. The tenants on the top floor have a camera facing this way but they said it wasn't working the night I was robbed. I think it was them."

Ray has three unregistered cars back here in addition to the two he drives. He slaps on fake license plates and takes them on the road.  One big black Chevy Suburban with tinted windows never moves and is being used as a closet and spare fridge in winter. 

Sometimes at night two other guys with huge cars show up and tinker in Ray's garage. They run an extension cord out of the 4th floor apartment window across the parking lot for electricity. Sometimes they run a loud generator. They jack up the cars, hoods get opened, and they start doing stuff. It's a lot like the old days when Isaiah from garages 6 and 7 would be back here hiding drugs in the underside of car hoods and inside wheel wells.

Here we go again.

Ray has been told by the landlord that he cannot work on cars back here nor can he store unregistered cars. He denies that he is doing this. The landlord lives an hour away and owns hundreds of properties. He never sets foot on the premises. Ray knows this. 

When a tenant told the landlord what he saw back here Ray confronted him and chewed him out. 

Now Ray has everybody where he wants them, silenced. Meanwhile the cars are piling up.

Every tenant sees dollar signs when they spot this parking lot. It's right off the major crossroads and yet it's out of view from the street. This is one of the most famous parking lots in our city for drugs and cars. 

How do we fix it? 

We shine a light on it.