There's an old Chinese proverb about avoiding the appearance of evil: "When walking through a neighbor's melon patch, it's best not to bend down and tie your shoe." Even though you may have done nothing improper, this proverb reminds us that people often are watching us, and some may misinterpret our actions and eagerly spread false accusations about us based on what they think they've seen us do.
Which raises the question: How should we respond when falsely accused? Several years ago I had such an experience. I was working in California, living in a small studio apartment during the week and coming home only on weekends. The day had been very hot, and I'd done a lot of demanding physical work. When I returned to my apartment that evening I felt the need to shower and wash away the grime.
The shower felt good, but about midway through it I heard a loud pounding noise and someone yelling. I'd been in enough apartments to know that noises like that weren't all that unusual, so I continued showering. The pounding and yelling continued, only louder, and I sensed that it was coming from my front door. Turning off the water, I hurriedly began drying off, and the pounding resumed, accompanied by someone yelling, "This is the police! Open the door!"
I didn't take time to dress, fearing that whoever was outside was losing their patience and about to break in my door. So I wrapped the towel around my waist, holding the ends together with one hand. As I opened the front door I became aware of several things. First, there was a big officer facing me with one hand on his holstered gun. The look on his face was not friendly. Out by the parking lot I could tell that a crowd had gathered. And overhead I could hear a helicopter hovering. Something big was "going down" all around me.
I was totally surprised when the officer said, "What are you doing here?"
I said, "What do you mean 'What am I doing here?' I live here!"
He said again, "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"
I gave him my name and repeated that this was my apartment."
He was still very wary, and I could tell he was not at all comfortable with this semi-naked guy wrapped only in a towel. My left hand was holding the towel together at my waist, and because of the angle at which I was standing he couldn't see that hand clearly. He said, "What do you have in your left hand?" Looking back on it now, I wish I'd just let the towel drop to the floor, saying "Oh, nothing," but instead, I turned so that he could get a better view of my left hand holding the towel, and I simply said, "See!"
He said, "Who else is in there with you?"
"Nobody else is here. Are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
Finally convinced that I was there legally, he relaxed a little and explained that another resident in the apartment complex had called the police, reporting that they'd seen someone jump over the fence that enclosed my little patio and had forced their way into my apartment. They were looking for the intruder and thought it was me (although I didn't understand why they thought someone would break into an apartment just so they could take a shower!) By now there were two more officers in the apartment, and I invited them to come in and look around. It didn't take long. A studio apartment doesn't have anywhere to hide. They checked out my patio, and everything seemed secure.
It was then that we all found out what had really happened. My apartment was on the ground floor, and another apartment was directly above it. In the upstairs unit lived a single mother with two teenaged girls. One of them finally came forward and told the officers that a boyfriend of one of the girls had climbed up on the fence that surrounded my patio, then he'd pulled himself up to their patio. The neighbor who called the police was simply mistaken about what they thought they'd seen.
Some might say I should have asked for the name of the nosey neighbor so I could give them a piece (or two) of my mind. Others would have encouraged me to confront the young kid and give him a tongue-lashing. But to what purpose? I could have stayed up all night plotting how to get even -- but for what? The fact is that someone reported what they thought they'd seen, and they were wrong. They'd learned that no "melons" had been taken after all! There was no malice on their part -- they were simply mistaken.
So rather than plot how to get back at them, I did the only sensible thing: I let it go.
