It was the day the world came to my street.
The city of Boston. My home since 2006. It's clichéd to be an Irishman in Boston, but it's a city that I love dearly.
One of the city's most sacred formalities, the Boston Marathon, was attacked on Marathon Monday, April 15th. It struck a scathing blow to the heart of the city and its people. The week became an information vaccum. So many questions and no answers.
On Thursday evening, photos of the suspects were released. I viewed the pictures. Nothing seemed familiar.
Later that evening I attended a show in Boston. A reprieve from the tension of the city after the violence that occurred during the week.
When returning home on the subway at 10:30pm, I was delayed at the MIT subway station due to police activity. Standard operating procedure, but related to the assassination of Officer Collier at the MIT campus.
My home is a 10-minute walk, but I had no knowledge of the events unfolding. The city was awash with sirens and police cruisers moving at speed. I texted my sister in Dublin. I was safe at home.
I awoke at 6am the following morning to a text from my brother in Dublin: 'Hope things ok there'.
I didnt know what he was referring to. I immediately switched on local TV news. Gun battles, bombs, car-jackings, Cambridge, Watertown. My neighborhood. A suspect at large, a citywide order to "shelter in place".
It was surreal. One suspected bomber was dead. One was on the run. The entire city was in lockdown.
My neighbour
Within a half hour, Twitter sources indicated that 410 Norfolk St was the residence of Dzhokar, the suspect at-large. This address is next door my home. One of the Boston Marathon bombers was my neighbour.
I immediately closed windows, blinds, dead-bolted the doors. I could hear sounds outside, occasional words, sirens, people loudly banging on doors. I had no idea how to properly protect myself - should I move to the basement? I had no idea.
Within 15 minutes of the initial information, a loud bang on the door was heard. I could see an officer wearing a reflective vest and badge and opened the door. It was a Cambridge police officer.
Direct orders
I received direct orders to get out immediately. No time to grab anything. Go, go go!
I was wearing shoes and a hoodie. I had my phone and the clothes on my back. My housemates were in pyjamas. The seriousness of the situation was obvious.
We ran down Norfolk Street to be greeted with a barrage of law enforcement officials and reporters.
The tragic events of the past week had come to our sleepy street in Cambridge. The media frenzy and tension of police was clear.
I was brought to Cambridge Police HQ in order to give any informaton I had. By now I realised that the the photo of Dzhokhar circulated by police was that same guy I walked past countless times on my own street, where he reportedly lived in an apartment.
The ordeal is over - but the questions are yet to be answered.
*The writer, Peter Hanley (31), a software engineer working in financial services from Garryspillane, Co Limerick, has been in Boston since 2006 and has lived at Norfolk Street in Watertown since 2009.