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Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.
Democrats could have secured the border. Instead, they invited an invasion and used our tax dollars to pay for it. Ruben Gallego even backed the law to let them vote in our elections. Don't give Gallego and the Democrats another four years to hurt us. Give your support to a real Arizona leader. Carrie Lake.
Carrie and the Republicans will secure the border, support our families, and never turn their backs on us. Carrie Lake for Senate. I'm Carrie Lake, candidate for U.S. Senate, and I approve this message. Paid for by Carrie Lake for Senate and the NRSC. After a blissful year of living in my very own apartment for the first time alone, a man moved in next door that I will never forget. The layout of my apartment is crucial to convey how this incident unfolded.
Not so much where my kitchen or where my bathroom is, but understanding that our balcony and his balcony are only partially separated by a wall. There's a solid two-foot gap in which you can easily walk from one balcony to another. For context, I previously had a very lovely woman living next door to me for the entire first year that I lived there. This woman never crosses balcony threshold without being explicitly invited.
I only throw this in there so you can understand that I wasn't previously concerned about someone infiltrating my space. The first time I met this new neighbor, he was unloading groceries from his massive truck into the assigned parking spot next to mine. As I was driving up, he and a girl I assumed to be his girlfriend were unloading boxes from Costco. I noticed them speaking, and as soon as I was out of the car, they went silent. I nodded a greeting to them, proceeded to the elevator, and the guy ran up behind me.
before throwing some boxes down and begging me to wait. No problem. I pride myself in being a good neighbor. While in the elevator, the girlfriend refused to make eye contact or speak to me. A little weird, but I just thought she was shy. Although the guy quickly introduced himself and was extremely chatty. In the 45 seconds that it takes to get from the parking lot to the floor where our apartments were, he asked how I liked the place, where I was from, and where I worked. Looking back,
His enthusiasm was a little strange, but I chalked it up to him being excited to be in a new place. For the sake of the rest of the story, let's call the neighbor Sam. Sam was maybe 30, 35, 6 feet tall, with a slim muscular build, and had hair buzzed extremely short, as if he were attempting to mask his balding. Pretty average looking by all accounts, at least in my opinion. The first few weeks we run into each other often, and he always makes some small talk.
and always refers to me as "Miss". I assume it's because he forgot my name, but still wanted to be polite. I almost never see his girlfriend after that first night, but occasionally I can hear him talking to a lady in his apartment, as the walls in our complex are reasonably thin. One night, after about three months since Sam moved in, my boyfriend is spending the night, and we were watching movies on the couch. It's probably around 11:30 PM. The back of my couch is against the wall that I share with Sam.
and we hear some banging noises. My first thought is that him and his girlfriend must be getting it on. Boyfriend and I laugh, and turn the volume of the TV up just to drown them out. Then, in addition to the banging, the neighbors begin screaming, and we can hear objects being thrown, glass shattering everywhere. The exact words are muffled, but the tone is angry, and there's a considerable amount of crying going on.
My boyfriend, the gem that he is, steps onto the semi-shared balcony and in his loudest voice yells over without crossing onto Sam's balcony. Everything okay in there? The girl opens the sliding glass door on Sam's side a minute or two later and says, "Sorry about that, so we leave it alone. I'm concerned, but we have no idea what actually happened," and decide to just go to bed. I wake up around 3:00 AM to more screaming, but my boyfriend, dead asleep.
refuses to wake up, and I'm not about to take my 5 foot self to break up whatever is going on at 3am. I considered calling the police, but was so drowsy that I convinced myself that I had possibly dreamt it. I deeply regret that decision. The next morning, I woke up to some terrible personal news, an entirely unrelated death of a friend of mine, and pretty much put the events of that night on the back burner. I didn't forget, but it also wasn't squarely on my mind. Fast forward about two weeks,
It's a warm day, and I'm outside on my balcony reading a book in a robe, sports bra, and shorts. I'm in my chair that faces away from Sam's apartment, so I can't see his side from where I am. I'm deep in my book, when suddenly I get tapped on the shoulder. Sam is firmly standing behind me and asks if we can talk for a second. This man has already crossed the invisible line by coming onto my side of the balcony, but I also can't get to my door without physically moving him.
So I ask him what's going on. He told me it was his birthday, and I asked if I knew where to get weed, because I seemed like a girl who knows how to have a good time. As we live in a state where weed is legal, I told him that I'm sure Google would provide the best dispensary in the area, but that I personally didn't have any. He proceeds to tell me how drunk he got last night, and at this point, I'm just itching for an exit. As I start to move, as if to signal that I'm done talking, he reaches out for my shoulder
and tells me that he hit/scratched my car last night because he was driving "very wasted." He says all this with a smile on his face, almost laughing. I'm surprised but mostly want to get away from him because my creep senses are starting to tingle and I don't want to blow up at him for hitting my car. He says he'll send me his insurance info if I give him my number. Thankfully, I knew that would be a bad call.
I make a bad, nervous joke about knowing where he lived, and said if the damage was bad enough, I would knock on his door to get his information. He counters by saying he'll leave a note with his info on my door. That's when he retreats from my balcony, while also saying he'd prefer to just pay me cash and not involve insurance. I give it an hour or so, then I head down to assess the damage. I did this purposefully, because I didn't want to walk down at the same time as him, or risk having him follow me.
Sure enough, there are two long new scratches on the driver's side door. They're not deep, just kind of superficial, not exactly worthy of a call to insurance immediately. I really just didn't want to get involved with them in any way, so I decided I could deal with the scratches. But this little event definitely irked me. At this point, I knew that something was off with them. Nothing unusual happens as far as I'm aware of this night. The next day is Saturday, and as I had to work the next day,
I'm home alone, watching some action-y movie, once again around 11pm. I'm on the sofa with my cat curled up on me, and the movie is relatively loud, so it takes me a little while to register this banging noise coming from the hallway. I honestly only noticed because my cat had woken up and got all puffed up and freaked out. I turn down the volume of the film, and suddenly realize that the banging is getting louder and louder. Just as I stand up, I hear the 5 words no one wants to hear coming from their door.
Open up. It's the police. My stomach all but hit the floor. I had lied to Sam the day before. I totally had weed. And I had smoked a fat joint outside on the balcony, maybe 20 minutes before the knocking began. I'm totally panicked at this point, and trying to control my breathing so I don't immediately come off as suspicious before I answer the door. I remember checking the peephole to see a close-up of a cop's face, then opening the door, coming face-to-face with six officers, all with guns drawn.
I'm about .5 seconds away from completely pissing my pants in fear, still convinced I'm somehow in trouble for smoking a joint. The officer, who seems to be in charge, can instantly sense my level of panic and says, "Ma'am, you're not in trouble. We need to speak with you about your neighbor. Would it be alright if we came in?" At this point, I'm reeling and my whole being is tense. I let the cops in, but my heart hasn't moved from my throat.
The lead policeman asks me about any interactions that I've had with Sam. I tell him that I barely know him, that he just lives next door to me, and only moved in a few months ago. I asked why they needed to be in my apartment. I'm scared, but also I don't always trust cops, and I have the right to know why six of them practically wave their guns in my face. He proceeds to tell me that Sam is a bad guy. He apparently beat his girlfriend so badly the night prior that she was now in the ICU for her injuries.
The cops also told me Sam's girlfriend said she believed he had a gun and that he was currently using something to barricade himself in the apartment next to mine. Lead officer says he has spoken to my building manager and knew my place had access to his balcony and they needed to use it in order to arrest Sam. I'm probably visibly shaking at this point as fear courses through me. Next, they ask me to go into my bedroom, lock the door, turn the lights off. I comply.
The next 30-45 minutes were absolute hell. In my panic, I had left my cell phone on the kitchen counter and had to sit in my room just listening to the commotion. No shots were ever fired, but there was a lot of yelling and what sounded like things being thrown. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, the main officer knocked on my door and told me that Sam had been arrested, and he thanked me for letting them use my apartment. They asked me questions for maybe 15 more minutes before showing themselves at the exit.
I wish this is where the story ended, but there is a bit more. In the days following Sam's arrest, I became even more panicked about him coming back to the apartment building, worried about retaliation. I hadn't said anything to the police, anything that would technically incriminate him, but I had told them about the night my boyfriend and I heard them fight. About five days later, Sam reappeared at the building as I was coming home from work one evening. He tried to approach me, but the elevator doors shut just as he was running to catch it.
My whole body was tense once again, like that feeling you have when you come this close to getting into a car accident, yet narrowly avoided. I stayed off my balcony entirely from this point on, and always kept the curtains closed. Sam and I didn't speak, or really even see each other at all for another few weeks before we had our final interaction. Sam stopped me in the parking lot one night, running after me as I was once again about to get on the elevator. He begged me to tell him why I let the cops in that night.
I told him the honest truth, that I was stoned, didn't know what to do, and had a bad history with cops. This is all true, and again, I was still concerned about him trying to retaliate towards me. He then got pretty upset, kept trying to repeat the question, obviously wanting a different answer. When I couldn't give him one, he then plain out offered me $3,000 to testify as a character witness on his behalf, because I "knew him and knew how he really treated women. I was speechless.
and beyond freaked out. He told me his hearing was next Thursday morning, and he asked if I could show up. I was like a deer frozen in headlights for a moment, and then somehow got the hell out of there after mumbling a string of words that were most likely incoherent the Wednesday night before his trial. I came home from work and found my cat acting rather strangely, like something had just spooked her. I kind of shook it off, but I noticed through the curtains there was something taped to the outside of my sliding glass door.
Apparently, Sam had left a note with his phone number and name along with the phrase "I'm counting on you". Needless to say, I didn't show up at his court date. I took a photo of the note, grabbed my cat, locked all my doors, and stayed at my mom's house for about a week after this happened. I did phone the police to let them know that he had been on my balcony again, but they never followed up with anything. Eventually, my boyfriend came and we went back to my place together. Everything was just as it should have been.
I never saw Sam again, but a few weeks later, a lady I had never seen before was cleaning out his apartment. A day or so after this, I ran into my building manager and had a chat with him about Sam, in an attempt to discover if Sam had been evicted or see if he had gone to jail. The manager disclosed that his girlfriend pulled through. I never knew her name, so I couldn't follow up with trying to see if she was okay with local hospitals, plus HIPAA and all. The manager told me verbatim
that they had made an exception for Sam to break his lease, but that he wouldn't confirm whether or not that was because Sam was in jail. About a month after this, new people moved into the apartment, and things had been normal ever since. I tried calling the police and the county jail to see if Sam was in lockup, but no one was able to release information to me. I'm hoping that that means he's there, especially if he did what the police said he did.
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Still tastes the same like back in the day. Right now get two pieces of chicken starting at only $2.99 or 10 pieces starting at only $10.99. Churches. All for valid at participating locations. This story happened to me in the early hours of New Year's Day this year. To give you a bit of context, I'm a male in my early 20s and I live in an apartment on the second floor. I come back home from a New Year's Eve party at around 6 a.m. I get undressed, text a couple of people to let them know I've made it home.
and then head straight to bed. All of this in a span of 10-15 minutes. But as soon as I get into bed, I hear my doorbell ring, for what it's worth. It's not my actual door, but the gate to the apartment complex. Initially, I say "f*ck it, it must be a drunk person, or someone pulling a prank or being an a*shole", so I let it ring. But whoever it is down there keeps ringing very insistently. After about 5, maybe 10 minutes of this,
I get up in my boxers to answer the phone that is wired to the gate. I answer the phone and I hear a foreign sounding man. He's either muffling his voice or simply not enunciating, but from what I gather, he's trying to tell me something about a friend and keys to let him in the complex. I let it register for a moment before I tell him "I don't know you, I'm not opening the gate." I slam the receiver down and head back to bed again, but without pause, they just keep ringing.
I get up again, go answer the phone, this time more than just a wee bit angry, and I'm greeted by a girl speaking perfect English, which in and of itself, a little odd because I live in Italy. She's telling me in a very clear manner that she's staying on the fifth floor, her friend has the keys, that she's a woman alone in the street, and for me to come check it at the door if I don't believe her. She sounded very convincing if I'm being honest. Mind you, in this moment,
I'm still coming down from a drink-filled night, probably still have the remnants of a leafy green substance in my blood, and very tired. I'm doing my best to weigh my options. What if she really is a girl alone in the street at 6am, out in the cold, and with all the drunk people going around? But then I think, what if she isn't though? Fortunately, even in my mildly intoxicated state, I have the idea to go out on my balcony, the one that faces over the gate, and check out who's on the street.
I throw on my parka, because it's pretty cold, and I'm not heading out to my balcony, just in my boxers. But once I get out there, I have an absolute "fuck you" moment. I see that there are five people down at the gate. It looks as if it's four men and one girl if I saw correctly. They're standing right in front of the entryway, talking quietly between themselves, and that's when I yell out at them, "Oi! You wanted to come in?" before immediately heading inside to call the police.
while also grabbing a knife. The real scary thing here is that the entryway gate is not see-through, so if I had gone downstairs to check it out, I wouldn't have been able to see outside, but as soon as I would have opened the door, I likely would have been overpowered by them and then forced to lead them to my apartment. The story more or less ends there. The f*ckers kept ringing the bell for what I'd say was another 15 minutes. While I turned off all the lights in my apartment,
and walked room to room like some drunken Rambo with a knife in my hand, periodically checking all the windows. I have windows that face the internal portion of our complex courtyard. My windows that face the street can easily be climbed up to, or so I thought at that moment. And then, just as quickly as it started, it all ended. I don't know if the police saw anyone or came out at all, because I never heard from them. And once all this activity died down,
I ended up just passing out in bed for a few solid hours. When I woke up later, it really resonated with me just how weird this whole thing was. What if I hadn't had a second thought about buzzing them in? What if I didn't peek over my balcony? What if I had taken the step to go downstairs and visually confirm that it was just a girl out there? I guess the best case scenario would be I'd be out a lot of my physical possessions. Worst case? Well, I don't really want to think about the worst case.
I share this story as a reminder to always think one step ahead. Maybe it's not the best idea to just take people at their word's value. And while it may be annoying in the moment, there's no problem with letting a phone remain unanswered. Last year, my fiancé and my mother passed away, one right after the other. After they died, I obviously fell into a deep depression. Though I thought I was pulling off the whole, I'm fine thing, my friends could clearly see through it.
A close friend of mine almost demanded I move in with her and get out of the apartment that I shared with my fiancé for 10 years. She wanted me to start fresh, and while I didn't think I was ready to move on, the idea of not living alone was appealing. Plus, her apartment is in a much nicer neighborhood than the one I was currently living in. So I agreed. Living with her has been fantastic. Our schedules are opposite: me on days, her on nights. So we both get alone time, but we also have at least one day a week off together.
so we get to hang out. Moving has also allowed me to be able to walk to work as it's so close. I thought that would be a godsend until my 10 minute walk caused a 2 month long nightmare. I decided to sit in the park that's between my apartment and my job one evening after work. As I'm sitting there, a man approached me. I saw his face first. He was almost handsome, if not a little rough looking. Even though I live in an urban area with a high homeless population,
It didn't occur to me that this man was anything but a mildly handsome 40-something guy. So I smiled and looked back down at my phone, expecting him to walk on by. Nope. He asked me what time it was. When I looked up to tell him, I noticed all the stuff he was carrying. It was so random. A kid's chalkboard with nonsense all over it, a paper bag full of old magazines and paperwork, and a steel shelf that at one point would have held CDs on it. I then noticed that he wasn't wearing shoes.
and his hands were absolutely filthy. Needless to say, it finally dawned on me that this was not going to be a "normal" encounter. He started talking non-stop, some of it nonsense, but some coherent. All of it, f***ing crazy. Of the parts I could follow, he told me he had just been released from prison, and he was looking for a tattoo shop because he wanted to get the DOC, the Department of Corrections, and 34, the number of DOC violations he had while in prison.
tattooed on him and he wanted the DOC to pay for it. He then noticed a button I had on my bag that had the logo for a local gay bar on it. He told me he had gone in there one night and went home with a guy. Then he looked me up and down and said, "But young ladies are my problem." I gathered my stuff and left immediately. Now, I love this apartment that I'm staying in, but it has its drawbacks which became glaringly obvious after this encounter. The apartment is on the first floor. I love it because you can walk out the sliding glass doors
one in the living room and one in my bedroom, right onto an awesome gated patio that has tables and grills for barbecuing. So it's awesome in the summer. I now hate it because it's right on the street and the fencing is clearly very easy to scale. One very early morning, around 5:00 AM, I hear a man scream, "What the are you doing?" So loud and so close, it woke me up from a dead sleep. I legitimately thought it was coming from inside my bedroom.
As it turned out, it was coming from outside. A neighbor of mine had been leaving for work and discovered a man, you guessed it, the same man from the park, sleeping against my sliding glass door. The dude got scared off. My neighbor checked on me, and once I calmed down, I chalked it up as a f***ed up coincidence. Well, two weeks later, I was sleeping, and at some point this man came onto the patio and was now tapping on my sliding glass door. I just laid there, frozen in fear.
that is, until he escalated to full-blown kicking the glass. I flipped on my light to grab my phone and that's when he took off. I called the police and they came over to take a report and to look at the footage from the cameras in the building. The footage confirmed that it was the man from the park and even more disturbingly, the footage from the hallway cameras showed that on more than one occasion, he had slipped into the building behind a resident and sat in the lobby for several hours. Even at one point,
going down the hallway and trying my doorknob and my neighbor's doorknob to see if they were locked. He even went so far as to hide in the little mailbox room when he saw my roommate coming in from work. The police think he either followed me from the park or just happened to notice me at one point when I was on the patio. It's been a few weeks since this occurred and I haven't seen him and no one has reported seeing him in or around the building. My roommate bought me pepper spray and my kind of kooky, albeit well-meaning neighbor
who has made it very clear he's retired military and a bit of a gun nut. Checks on me nightly, so I'm not as freaked out as I could be. But still, it's wild when you move to a neighborhood that you think is safer than the one you're coming from, only to realize that's far from the situation.
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This election, remember, politicians aren't just ignoring us. They're willfully defying the law they swore to uphold. Advocate for America paid for and is responsible for the content of this ad.