A guy kept showing up and asking to see my 12-year-old sister. I'm relieved my parents ended up calling the cops.

This happened in the 70s when I was in high school.<br><br>I had a great stepdad, Jeff. He had been a police officer before he got a "desk job" working at the police station. He told us that they would get calls like this all the time:<br><br>* "I'm locked out of my apartment and the person next door let me in their apartment so I can walk out onto my balcony from their balcony. But their balcony door is locked. Can you let me in?"<br><br>* "I'm a traveling salesman and I saw your daughter at the mall. She's the most beautiful girl I ever saw, and I know she's the one for me. Can I come over and talk to her?"<br><br>* "I'm a landscaper and I saw your daughter in your front yard. I have to have her."<br><br>* "I'm a repairman and if you don't let me in I will break in your door."<br><br>My parents warned us over and over and over again about this stuff. If my sister and I were home alone we were not to answer the door if we weren't expecting someone. And we were never, ever to let anyone in the house we didn't know.<br><br>One day my parents left me in charge of my little sister. I was in my bedroom, which was in the basement. My sister was in her bedroom, which was opposite mine. Her door was closed, so I don't know if she was napping or just reading a book.<br><br>I heard the doorbell ring. At first I thought it was the little boy from across the street who was my sister's best friend. He often came over without his parents telling my parents beforehand. But then I heard the doorbell ring again. And again. And again. It was very insistent.<br><br>I went upstairs to the front door. I looked out the peephole and saw a man with long greasy hair. He was wearing jeans and a denim jacket. It wasn't the boy from across the street.<br><br>I cracked open the door. The guy told me his name, which I can't remember, and said he wanted to talk to my sister. I told him she was my little sister and she was only 12. He said that was okay. He wanted to see her anyway. I told him my parents weren't home. He said that was okay. He didn't want to see my parents. He only wanted to see my little sister.<br><br>I shut the door. Then I ran to the kitchen and called the cops, telling them exactly what my stepdad had told me to say, "I think a man is going to break into my house."<br><br>I ran back to the door and looked out the peephole. The guy was gone. I was relieved. I went back to the kitchen to tell the cops that they didn't have to come. But when I looked out the kitchen window he was in our back yard. I told the cops the guy was in our back yard and the cop told me to stay on the line.<br><br>The guy started going around the outside of the house, looking in windows. I told the cops which window he was looking in and they said they were on their way.<br><br>The guy started pounding on the back door. I told the cops and they said to stay in the kitchen. A few minutes later I heard the cops yelling at him on the front porch. They caught him and kept him on the front porch until a patrol car came to take him away.<br><br>I still shudder when I think about this guy.