John Morin stories

John Morin is a former Lansing resident who now lives in Holt.

Buying the house on South Francis

I enjoyed the work at the apartment complex. It was challenging and I gained many skills. On the side, I painted a few houses, inside and out. That is how I met Caroline, a recently widowed retired teacher. It led to an over ten year relationship. Each spring I would get her house ready for warm weather; in the fall, clean gutters and turn off water. Sheri would often come with me, helping in her flower beds or mowing the lawn while I went down to discuss Lansing's latest issues with my friend, John Pollard.

     Lansing offered many opportunities for anyone willing to work. But there were challenges. The house I bought through Sheila, a Remax real estate agent who acted as my buyers agent, had issues. I stressed to her that I work and want to live in a working man's neighborhood. The repairs to the house were poorly done, but it had a new garage.  I told Sheri that from that garage I would turn the house into the nicest in the neighborhood. The day before closing, Sheila contacted me to tell me that I needed flood insurance. She told me it wasn't a big deal, just a one time payment that required me to get to Detroit and back that day with proof of insurance. I should have ran at that time; flood insurance is a yearly charge that is not cheap. Sheila had taken us to dozens of homes throughout Lansing - it was difficult finding anything worth buying.  Still, we moved in and enjoyed meeting new neighbors and shop keepers. We lived in that house for twenty years, often helping out neighbors with home maintenance problems. I owned a large collection of tools that enabled me to do most anything. I put a basketball hoop in the driveway, attracting kids who needed something to do. I always enjoyed fixing their bikes when they had tire or chain problem.

      I have often wondered how I became a target of the LPD. Working long hours each day, it would be hard to get into trouble.  But then there was that time, that day, sun filled, warm, busy traffic running both ways on Kalamazoo Street. I decided to head over to Village Party Store, a block away on Mifflin Avenue. I enjoy walking, so I crossed the street heading toward the car wash. Bushes line the sidewalk, a visual barrier from the car wash.  As I approached the bushes, I heard someone say "I don't want to touch the nasty n....r". I stopped, trying to see through the bushes. Then a different voice said "I'll make the n....r get up". As I stepped around the bushes a third man said "You got to kick the n....r harder than that".  It was only a matter of a few moments, but my reaction was to say "What the hell are you doing". Then I realized that I was facing three uniformed Lansing police officers standing over an unconscious black man that I recognized as a local homeless man. The taller one stepped towards me asking if I had a problem. I retreated saying "No". I crossed back to the other side of Francis Avenue, standing in the parking lot watching. They did call for help and I left not wanting to be involved. Call it a fear of cops. Or maybe not. 

     Buying a house with long term plans of living there, the day came when the police called seeking donations, and I fully support their cause of protecting our community.  It hadn't been that long ago with that medical bill/collection agency fiasco, so money was an issue, but I donated thirty dollars to their cause. A big mistake. Two months later the same guy is calling, and he has a new plan. Give up my card information and I can pay thirty dollars every month. I told him I could not afford that and would not do that anyways. He became upset and threatening, saying that "I may not get any police protection". My response was, "Isn't that what I pay taxes for?" He says "I know where you live".  I replied "Good, now you can come over and I can tell it to your face".  Phone call ended.  Is that what caused my future problems?  We will explore that later. 

     But then there was that other morning.  A slight rain had started, it was daylight, about ten.  A knock on the door, a Lansing police officer is concerned that it had started raining and I had a flag out off my porch. Looking past him, the flag looked dry and covered by the porch and the front yard tree.  I thanked the officer for his concern and told him to have a safe day. He turned and left, I closed my door, the flag hung on the pole. I was disappointed a few days later to see that my flag was missing.  The flag had belonged to my father.      

It did not take long to realize that the police were failing in the neighborhood.  Often we would hear about the police picking up prostitutes - not to arrest them, but as dates.  When Prosecutor Dunnings showed up in the neighborhood soliciting prostitutes, we knew that day. That is a later story, though.  My disappointment needed an outlet, which was to comment on the Lansing State Journal website.  I often questioned the LPD and their actions.  My suggestion was to give them all polygraph tests to root out the corruption.  I would say that half would quit, a percentage would fail the polygraph, and the remainder would be what the city of Lansing residents need: honest cops.  Then one day the site required personal information to post.  I looked at Sheri and said that there are those who do not like what I and others say.  I never posted after that day - sure, a little fear.  I still read others posts and saw within a few months people were arrested for what they posted.  Sure, a little fear.  Could any of these occasions have created the decisions made by LPD a few years later that caused us so much harm?
		Stuart Dunnings III