I’m trying to wind-up a call with my father this afternoon during one of our regular chats, when he mentions off-hand, "Oh yeah, the police were at my house at 5:30AM."
"Excuse me?" I replied.
"They knocked on the door at 5:30AM. And not just one cop. There were a whole bunch of them."
"What did they want?"
He explained that they were looking for the previous tenant of his Los Angeles apartment unit, who they said was the leader of a Chinese gang. The cops were members of the LAPD asian gang taskforce, but wouldn’t explain why they were looking for this guy now. But they were clearly prepared for anything, the half-dozen burly cops in my dad’s apartment backed up by others outside covering all possible exits from his apartment building.
"So waitaminit, dad." I interjected. "You’re saying that you live in the apartment of a former Chinese gang leader who the police are looking for right now?"
"Yes."
"You should move."
< pause >
"I need to talk to my landlord."
There’s a short and silly machinima in that.