Chapter 6: Bricks
A text notification sounds on my phone. A neighbor is alerting our group that Ray is on the rampage. There is screaming coming from the house and backyard, the sound of pounding and breaking and then the scream of another man, perhaps his boyfriend Mark. This is the indicator that we are in for another wild night. Later, another notification. Ray is seen running through a neighbor’s yard and into the alley. The question, will we receive a late night visitor? The answer unknown, I ready what becomes my “pajamas”, of sort. Near my bed I lay out my “battle belt”, complete with pistol, pistol and carbine magazines, IFAK (Individual First Aid Kit - filled with a tourniquet, chest seal, blood clotting gauze, nitrile gloves and shears), a party-size container of pepper spray, and handheld flashlight, along with my personal defense carbine, a custom built, by me, Wilson Combat AR-15 with suppressor, weapon mounted light and red dot optic. Next to it is a ballistic vest. Just in case.
Each night I go through this procedure and, on some nights, when Ray is on a rampage, I keep my day clothes on, don my kit, and wait on the couch until what seems like the inevitable to occur.
Fortunately, this night, Ray confines his violence to Mark and his house. This didn’t keep me from another mostly sleepless night, nodding off only to wake at every sound and shift of light through the windows.
The next night, after what would be my normal bedtime, the dog perks up, staring at the door and the doorbell rings. It’s Ray.
When a stranger comes to my front door I greet them after exiting through the carport door, which is around the corner, and approaching them on the front walk. This gives me the advantage of coming from an unexpected direction, distance and an obstacle, the corner of my house, between me and the visitor. Since it’s after dark I equip myself with a handheld flashlight and, of course, have my firearm concealed under my clothing and a cannister of pepper spray in my pocket.
I greet Ray. He turns towards me and then I shine my light towards him. He asks “are you going to shoot me?”. Why would anyone ask that question unless they know that they aren’t welcome and are doing bad things? My firearm is concealed, but the expectation is present.
The video shows the beginning of the encounter, but since the camera is motion activated it doesn’t capture the entire conversation. I make it quite clear that he is trespassing, in violation of an Injunction against Harassment and that the police are on the way. He departs my property without incident, with a parting comment of “I am just worried about you and checking in”.
The day of December 17 Ray had been silent. Normally, we’d see him roaming the neighborhood or hiding in the bushes at the church with a couple of interim “detainments’ by Phoenix PD, each one leading to his release the next day. At about 10pm LT wakes me and says that Ray is out back and she heard yelling and a loud noise. “Out back”, what does that mean? In my backyard? In the alley?
I don my “tactical pajamas” and glance out the backdoor, illuminating the yard with my handheld light. I see a porch light and Ring camera, both once securely attached to my workshop, dangling by the wires. I see a couple of bricks laying at the base of the structure and then, as I get closer, several dents in the door and walls and the door handle askew. Opening the gate to the alley I look and don’t see Ray. Immediately I call the police and then head inside to view the carnage.
Phoenix PD responds and I show the officers the damage and then the video. All of the officers are well acquainted with Ray, yet the lead officer states that “I can’t tell who that is or if he caused the damage”. I tell her, that without the slightest doubt, it is Ray Hernandez Jr. I know what he looks like, I know his screams. She then tells me that there is nothing that she can do since I didn’t actually witness the damage. To say I was pissed is an understatement.
Later that night another group text. PD is at Ray’s house. The next day, as part of what was becoming a morning ritual, I checked the Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office booking page. There he is, Ray Hernandez Jr. Booked for Assault/Fear of Physical Injury, Criminal Damage, Drug Paraphernalia, Resisting Arrest and Unlawful Means of Transportation as a Passenger, i.e., being in a stolen vehicle.
That day, Ray is bonded out and released to the wild. Again.
The new year reaches us with no resolution, no pun intended, or end to the continuing nightmare. I haven’t slept in months, my family is continually on-guard and it’s inevitable that we will have another Ray encounter. The “System” that is supposed to protect citizens from criminals is not in good working order. Ray is caught and released, numerous times, without consequence and when found “guilty” is given “time served” after spending a night, or two, in jail. The excuses are becoming expected - “Covid restrictions”, “he is ill and can’t be held”, “bonded out” are the reasons of the day.
I work with the Victim Advocate, the County Prosecutor's Office and in continual contact with Officer S, our community liaison officer. Everyone is growing frustrated and acknowledges that all is being done while nothing is being done.
A week after the new year I am standing at my vehicle parked in the driveway. It’s morning and I’m packing for the range, turning to head back inside to grab my coffee and water bottle. From the corner of my eye I see someone on the sidewalk and see a man, wearing a coat, standing there and glancing behind him (aka, target glancing). He then turns towards me and steps into my yard and I confirm that it’s Ray. He rapidly reaches his hand into his coat pocket and I covered the 3 yards to him before he is able to turn his head back towards me. As his eyes meet mine he gets a half canister of POM pepper spray in the eyes and face. He flinches, reaching his hands towards his face and howls in pain. He steps towards me again, likely disoriented, and gets another blast. He turns, yelling my name and runs down the sidewalk towards his home. I see him turn in to his driveway and run into the garage. I call Phoenix PD.
Officers arrive at the house on the corner and spend some time down there. After twenty minutes one of them departs Ray’s house, walks down the sidewalk and I greet him in the yard. “Holy shit, we could smell the OC at the driveway. We see him inside, covered in orange (the die color in the OC) and his head is under the faucet.”
I give my statement and the response from one of the officers is “I’d just shoot him” which becomes a common suggestion from other officers over the next year. Holy hell, I think. I don’t respond but am a bit shocked and know that if force other than physical force was used I would suffer greater consequences than the officer. I know that I am held to a different standard.
The remaining officers knock on his door but finally walk away when he doesn’t answer. I throw my hands up in frustration.
Three days later, on 10 January, I received a call from Officer S, the Community Liaison. He tells me that officers have arrested Ray and that he is being held on a 72 hour psych hold and will appear at sentencing, a date that he has been eluding for months. There have been several dates scheduled, with me logging in to the Court’s Zoom call, only to sit the day with no appearance of Ray. Each time a bench warrant is issued but no action from police.
This time his charges were being reduced, by the City prosecutor, to a misdemeanor, and he was released the day after sentencing. No consequences.
The night of January 15th LT wakes me again. She heard a bump on the back window, as she sat on the couch watching tv. After hearing the noise she looked up and saw what she described as a red flashing light in the backyard. I woke, put on my tactical pajamas and searched the backyard. Not seeing anything I went back inside and lay in bed expecting more chaos.
The next morning I want back outside to the yard and in the bushes, under our window, I found a small drone with a video camera. The battery was dead but inside was a SD card. On that card was a video, taken through the window, of LT inside our house.
The following day, while we were gone, there was a ring of our doorbell and a note left by the owner of the drone. The note stated that the drone got away from him and crashed in our backyard after hitting our tree and that he would like it back.
That afternoon I received a text from an unknown number. The sender asked if he could get his drone back and I responded that he could come by the next day to get it.
Just after noon I return from an early morning bow hunting excursion and see a man on the sidewalk, walking up to my front door. I get out of my vehicle and ask him what he wants and he responds that he wants his drone back. I inquire “why were you flying a drone in my backyard”. His response changes as he tells the story, obviously nervous knowing who I am. To prove his innocence, he offers to show me the video on his phone but then retracts the device before I can see it. Of course, I have already seen the video.
Asking where he lives, he states “I am renting a room from Ray and Mark. I am not involved in the situation with you.” Strange that he would offer that, unsolicited. I inquire if he is aware of the drug use and criminal activity in the house where he lives. He looks at me blankly and the lack of a response tells me everything I need to know. I get the drone, hand it to him in several pieces, and told him that he is trespassing and if he returns he’ll be arrested.
Once he left I sent an email to Officer S, along with a photo of the note, a statement of what occurred and the video. I also did some research on him and found out that Paul Dent had quite the arrest record, mostly drug related. His photo came up in my search, from Facebook, and he looked very familiar. Immediately I realized that I had seen him before. A few weeks prior, as N and I were riding our bikes through the alley to the neighborhood, I could see over the wall behind Mark and Ray’s house and saw Mark and Paul smoking from a glass pipe. A partner in crime that I’ll meet again.