June 6 weekend 2025 spirituality column

The suspicious neighbor prompts self-reflection

If you remember my column on Valentine's Day about my FBI friend, Steve Dupre, you might want to hear the rest of the story of how we met.

Weeks before I purchased my two-story Elk Grove Calif. McMansion in 2002, the FBI raided my soon-to-be neighbor's home and arrested the owner, a Vietnamese man named Jimmy.

But when my moving truck arrived, I only knew the current occupant to be a hairdresser with limited English. Her junior high-age sons both played in our swimming pool with my son. However, as the sons aged, their family fights brought frequent visits from police.

Things moved to another level one day when FBI agent Steve Dupre knocked on my door with an IRS agent in tow. They presented their credentials and told me how Jimmy was on trial for robbing several electronics warehouses. When one of his victims died of a heart attack, Jimmy went to prison for 30 years, but Jimmy's common law wife remained in the home with his two sons.

Now the IRS was collecting evidence to take the house under the RICO Act. To accomplish that, they needed to stand in my bathtub and take evidential pictures over my neighbor's fence.

After their photo shoot, they reminded me to report any suspicious activity and then they left. My mind was a whirl. But watch the house I did.

One afternoon, I came home to see Jimmy's extended family hauling large suitcases being hauled into the home. Neighborhood rumors suggested that Jimmy hid money in the walls, so I assumed the suitcases were hauling their ill-gotten gain.

I contacted police, and law enforcement swarmed our cul-de-sac again. Soon they had one of the culprits in handcuffs.

An hour later, I got a knock my door. It was a pretty young Asian lady from next door.

"May I come in?" she asked.

Before I could I offer her a chair, she challenged why I called the police.

When I tried to explain my suspicions, she calmly inserted, 

"I think you're a racist. You only called because you saw a bunch of Asian people carrying suitcases."

"N-no," I stammered.

"Yes!" She insisted. "Those suitcases contained dresses and tuxes for my wedding tomorrow."

"Then why the arrest?" I dared ask.

"Our best man had an outstanding traffic ticket, so now he can't be in our wedding."

She'd hooked my chaplain's guilt. I'd done scores of weddings, but I had yet to ruin one.

There wasn't much left to do but profusely apologize and eventually walk her to the door.

I spent several days soul-searching and handwringing. Had I been racist?

It's not a question I can easily answer, then or now.

But I do know it's a question I continue to face in everyday events. There is no final answer. I must constantly reflect upon my assumptions and prayerfully examine the subtle interpretations of race that I place on people.

Yes, I said prayerfully. Prayerfully, because as the prophet Jeremiah says, "The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful, a puzzle that no one can figure out."

The prophet insists that we must ask God to "… search our heart and examine our mind."

The recent elimination of DEI offers us much self-reflection on racism. But the thing I find most unsettling is the sudden deportation of brown refugees into the United States while welcoming the white South Africans.

Don't let the news intimidate you into being silent on the subject. Discuss, search and reflect on the changing meaning of racism and never hesitate to seek God's help in understanding yourself.

Finally, if you like tidy endings, the IRS took the house and sold it to a wonderful Honduran American. Steve Dupre became a fan of my column and drafted me into the FBI Citizen's Academy, but that's a story already told.

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All of Norris's books can be ordered on Amazon. Autographed copies can be obtained on his website www.thechaplain.netor by sending a check for $20 for each book to 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602.