A ghost story of sorts.
Firstly let me state for the record that I do not believe in ghosts. That said I have seen a few things that are pretty strange and I have categorized them as ‘ghost stories’ for lack of anything better.
I am a police officer, and back in the 1990s as a Patrolman I responded to a report of a burglary in progress. I had a new officer I was training (hereafter referred to as Rookie) riding with me. My Sergeant also responded.
We responded to a housing project. Each identical two story apartment consisted of a living room and kitchen the ground floor, and two small bedrooms and a full bath on the second floor. There is no access to the rafters. We are all familiar with the layout of these apartments because it is very poor area and generates a great deal of business. The specific apartment is on the end of the building, which means it only has a blank wall on the right side, and another apartment on the left side.
The resident, a single mother with three kids had come home at dusk and her neighbor was sitting on the communal porch smoking. The neighbor commented that she thought that the resident was already home because she had heard the resident’s children running up and down the stairs. The resident listed and indeed heard someone running up and down the stairs and moving around noisily in the apartment. She called the police.
My Sergeant arrived first and heard the sounds of a subject running about the apartment as well. I arrived moments later and sent the Rookie to watch the back door and windows. All the window screens on both stories front & back are firmly fixed in place and obviously have been for some time
We got the keys from the resident and unlocked the front door, but it wouldn’t open. Now the doors in this complex were fitted with deadbolts with a three inch throw deadbolt with a blank outside face-they can only be locked & unlocked from the inside. My Sergeant tells me to kick the door in.
Now, I am a veteran officer in my prime; I’ve kicked in a lot of doors, including doors in this complex. The doors here are tough, but not impossible. I set myself and give it my best shot-it doesn’t budge. Embarrassed because our presence has drawn onlookers I immediately try again. My boot sole is literally imprinted into the metal of the door, but the door holds.
My Sergeant disgustedly orders me aside and takes a go at it. The door doesn’t budge. My Sergeant gets on the radio to call for a ram. I’m looking at the dent my boot put into the door when the door swings inward about two inches. I alert the Sergeant and we enter the apartment tactically.
We clear the apartment, and we search it. There’s only two closets. I look in both, under beds, in the water heater space, under the small sofa…no one. I lift every piece of furniture large enough to hide anyone bigger than a toddler. I pull the drawers out of the bureau and check behind them. I run my baton into the laundry basket. When I am done I am confident that a nothing greater than the size of a small cat could not be hiding from me. And there are no pets.
When the door swung open I had assumed that cumulative damage had sundered the dead bolt. Returning to it I checked, and found that the dead bolt was fully retracted in the unlocked position, and that the doorframe had sustained no damage at all. I tried the door several times and checked with the resident: it had no history of sticking; quite the opposite, in fact.
We found no explanation for the sounds, or why the door would not open.
The resident packed a bag while we waited, and moved out the next day.
