I’ve been promising you all this post since I started this blog up again several months ago. I’ve held off until now because it was a terrifying experience for me, one that’s hard to relive. There’s another reason, too. This event is like a scene straight out of a movie, and includes a very famous actor. Most of you don’t know me personally (not that I hold much back on this blog! heh). So, up until now I worried you’d think I made it up, determine I’m prone to flights of fancy, and potentially even more bonkers than I admit to. But if you’ve stayed with me this far (and through the Holiday Letter From My Cat), I figure you’ll be with me after this. However bizarre it seems, this story is quite true. The Malibu Sheriff’s office probably has some record of it, too. And I’m no more bonkers than I’ve told you outright.

By the way – this is fairly long, so I’ve broken it up into a series of posts. I don’t know how many, because I’m still writing it. (Not quite the pro-blogger you thought I was, huh? <— dripping with tongue-in-cheek sarcasm) I’ll post one every few days or so. Probably ‘or so’.

The True Story of How Martin Sheen Saved My Life (yes, THE Martin Sheen)

‘Saved my life’ might be a bit of an overstatement, but that Saturday night nine years ago I was terrified for my life like I have never been before or since.

All I knew was this complete stranger was following me – everywhere. At first he kept his distance, following my car as I ran a few errands and headed for a 30-minute drive to Point Dume in Malibu. I could see he was male, with dark hair and skin, driving a beat-up white pickup truck with darkly tinted windows. (Beat-up cars, with darkly tinted windows were not at all common in Malibu.)

I couldn’t shake him. I tried evasive driving maneuvers, quickly turning corners, hiding down the hill. He searched the neighborhood until he found me each time.

Before I continue with the details of that terrifying night, let me provide a little backstory…

Saturday nights in Malibu, I had a regular commitment volunteering in the kitchen at a weekly community event. Several people helped out in the kitchen, including Ramon Estevez, one of Martin Sheen’s sons.

On my way to Malibu that night I ran a few errands, and made my way to the event. Just as I turn off the main road onto the small, residential streets of the Point Dume neighborhood do I realize this truck is following me. It begins to dawn on me this beat-up truck with the dark windows has been following me for a while. I think I’d also seen him behind me on the drive to Malibu almost 30 minutes ago.

Beginning to get concerned, I don’t want to leave my car and walk through the big, empty parking lot to where people will gather for the event. (As part of the setup team, there was hardly anyone there yet. It’s a long walk to the safety of the building.) In the back of my mind I’m thinking ‘Maybe you’re just being paranoid. Who would be following you?’ Instead of heading to the empty parking lot, I decide to try and shake the guy. I used to be a PI, so I know a bit about driving.

Or so I thought.

Point Dume is, much as the name implies, a point of land surround by ocean on about 3/4 of its sides. There’s pretty much only one side in or out, unless you want to swim. Even though I’m stuck on this point of land, I can go back to the main road (endless Highway 1), but part of me kept thinking how I was running late, people were expecting me, and this would be over any second.

Wrong again.

To be continued…

I’m sorry to leave you all hanging, but this story is really long…. because I don’t know HOW to tell a short story. And you might never read the thing if I didn’t give it to you in manageable pieces.

UPDATE: Part two is here, Martin Sheen Saved My Life (For Reals), Part 2.