1.The only thing that was out of place in the modest condominium complex near Southern Methodist University was their massive, pimped-out pickups, which dwarfed the other residents' aging fleet of compact cars.
2.The two men began moving lumber and other construction materials into their apartment – but no furniture.
3.And they never really lived there. Sometimes they would show up late at night or before dawn, stay for an hour or two, and then leave
4.When the men were there, they wouldn't answer the door.
5.And one day, a strange stain appeared on my ceiling, directly below their unit.
2.The two men began moving lumber and other construction materials into their apartment – but no furniture.
3.And they never really lived there. Sometimes they would show up late at night or before dawn, stay for an hour or two, and then leave
4.When the men were there, they wouldn't answer the door.
5.And one day, a strange stain appeared on my ceiling, directly below their unit.
Pot farm found after neighbors report odor, other oddities
DallasNews.com reporter Kimberly Durnan and several other residents of an SMU-area condominium complex recently were surprised to discover that a marijuana farm was in their midst. This is her account:
When the new neighbors moved in, no one paid much attention.
They were two very polite, clean-cut young men. The only thing that was out of place in the modest condominium complex near Southern Methodist University was their massive, pimped-out pickups, which dwarfed the other residents' aging fleet of compact cars.
But then it became apparent that they weren't going to be joining the complex's sociable clique of pet-owning, workaday folks who often hang out in the courtyard and chat while watching their dogs sniff one another.
The two men began moving lumber and other construction materials into their apartment – but no furniture. That started folks talking.
And they never really lived there. Sometimes they would show up late at night or before dawn, stay for an hour or two, and then leave.
When strange smells started wafting through the complex, I thought the source might be my new puppy, so I started giving him baths twice a week.
Other residents thought a skunk had sprayed the crawl space.
Another theory was that the complex was being overrun by mold.
Residents of units adjoining the mystery condo began hearing a strange humming sound – loud and constant – that originated there. The television was never on, if there was one.
When the men were there, they wouldn't answer the door. Despite sweltering temperatures, they never parked their shiny, expensive trucks in our shaded lot. Instead, they left the vehicles close to the exit.
And one day, a strange stain appeared on my ceiling, directly below their unit.
Finally, a couple of the longtime residents concluded that a drug operation might explain the noises and smells. The idea frightened us all. The complex had a fire about three years ago that killed two people and displaced more than a dozen residents. Some of us worried that the unit had become a methamphetamine lab and that it was only a matter of time before the volatile chemicals used to produce the drug would explode.
I wondered whether I could survive such an explosion, since my bedroom was below what appeared to be the epicenter of the humming and the strange smells. I moved into my guest bedroom, thinking that would be my best chance of avoiding a fiery death.
Once police were contacted, we began to calm down. Hector Roa, who is part of a special Dallas Police Department unit that focuses on crime hot spots, was the first officer to show up, heavily armed and dressed in military-style clothing. He appeared to have the muscles, the weapons and the smarts to deal with most anything, so we felt safer.
Officer Roa thoroughly inspected the area around the men's unit, crawling through the attic and checking out the strange noise and smell from my apartment. He called for more members of his Operation Disruption unit, and they canvassed the complex, looking for more clues that would support obtaining a search warrant. After a few hours, they asked for undercover narcotics agents, whom my neighbors initially mistook for new residents.
Several neighbors and their dogs gathered to meet the officers and see what was going on. The police were bombarded by questions: What did they think was going on in the unit? What was it like to be a police officer? Did they like their jobs? Did they like dogs?
The first officers on the scene weren't sure what the strange odor was. But the narcotics officers knew immediately when they got a whiff of the scent. It was marijuana.
Sgt. Barbara Hobbs asked all the neighbors to line up and take turns sniffing the windows so we would know what a marijuana farm smelled like. We were riveted. It was different from the odor of a burning marijuana cigarette and smelled more like a skunk's scent mixed with room deodorizer.
The officers had to stay for several hours while they waited for a judge to sign the search warrant. My neighbors made sure they had plenty of bottled water and mosquito spray.
One of the officers called the unit's owner and told her to unlock the door or they would kick it down. The officers reported that they were told she didn't know who had rented her property because she had no lease, no names and no phone numbers.
Sgt. Hobbs suggested we change our homeowner association bylaws to make it mandatory for owners who lease their units to provide a photo ID of the tenants.
The keys provided by the owner didn't work on the lock, so the officers kicked down the door.
Inside, Sgt. Hobbs said, they found a small jungle: 101 marijuana plants in four stages of growth, with the most mature plants nearly ready for harvesting. Plants were growing in both bedrooms, both bathrooms and the hall closet.
Elaborate grow lights that used bulbs worth about $1,000 each were attached to chains and hung from the ceiling.
A water pump set on an automatic timer kept the plants well hydrated. That explained the humming noise and the large stain on my ceiling.
Windows were covered with foil, and sheets of Fiberglas were nailed to window frames.
There was no furniture, nothing in the cupboards and nothing in the refrigerator.
The two men were also nowhere to be found, and police have yet to make an arrest in the case.
Officers uprooted the plants and placed them in trash bags, leaving behind a messy trail of dirt and pots. They filled two vans with plants and equipment.
It was 3 a.m. by the time they were finished. Resident Marilyn Gletzer starts work very early at UPS, but she stayed for the entire show. And she even got a tour of the mystery apartment.
"I was dumbfounded seeing all those marijuana plants," Ms. Gletzer said. "It was fascinating."
One day after the police visit, neighbors were once again out with their dogs. Much of the conversation focused on the marijuana farm – and who might be the next to move into the unit.
The next tenant should expect a lot more attention. And he or she may wonder why neighbors sniff at the windows and door when they walk by.
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