Police cited about 550 people so far this year – an average of nearly two a day – for trespassing at the mental hospital complex. That’s compared to 213 last year.
As a gunman chased me out of one of Detroit’s most neglected streets Thursday morning, I was reminded of something more outrageous than a single resident losing his mind over the presence of a reporter.
He screamed; he pleaded. “Please don’t harm my dogs,” he begged police, who moments earlier had barged into his east-side home looking for marijuana.
Godbee broke his silence this weekend with meditations on forgiveness and overcoming struggles.
I decided to do what Pugh wouldn’t: Find out what’s really going on.
What makes this all the more bizarre is that Godbee would jeopardize his promising career and the city that has been depending on him – for sex.
The doors flung open, and three men emerged with guns drawn. Am I getting robbed? I don’t want to die – not yet. I’m not even 35.
The east-side explosion reduced the home to toothpicks in an area rife with recent arsons.
Whether the west-side building will be salvaged is questionable because thieves stole copper plumbing, unleashing a torrent of water that was quickly rising in the basement.
Dispatchers were told to stop alerting the fire department of calls about the blaze Monday night because it was too difficult to access the plant’s north side, where several fires broke out, causing floors to cave in and walls to collapse.