So last night about 1230 we were lying in bed. Mrs Heathen was asleep. The cat was asleep. I was reading until I heard some very loud, sharp noises that most anyone would take for firecrackers, except New Year’s is weeks away, and firecrackers are not generally accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.

There’s an ugly sort of feeling in your gut that happens when you realize you’ve just heard a fairly serious exchange of small-arms fire — easily a dozen or more shots, quickly, in a way that meant more than one gun was involved — in the middle of the night that sounded close enough that you imagine you can smell cordite. Mrs Heathen woke up and looked at me as if to say “Um, those weren’t fireworks, were they?” We lay in the bed, very still, and listened, and in about thirty seconds I began to hear faint sirens, far off, but getting closer quickly.

Soon the sirens were damn near in our bedroom, and we could see the cruisers’ lights splashing against the buildings behind our house. I peeked out the front window to see a cop blocking West Drew and Taft; five or six more cars blew south down Taft, tearing off onto sidestreets. Then the helicopter showed up, flying low and slow, and playing a spotlight around the neighborhood.

This went on for some time. We soon remembered we hadn’t locked the backyard, which is of course precisely the sort of thing you want to remember in a situation like this. After a long time, it seemed, events outside calmed down enough that we drifted off back to sleep, but I’m pretty sure the cops were still roaming around when we did.

Turns out it was a drug sting gone bad; during a buy attempt, four dealers apparently decided to rob the undercover officers, who took exception thereto. An HPD officer is in the hospital; one of his assailants is dead, another in the hospital, and the other two are in custody.