Or at least that is what he said his name was.

The post midnight quiet was interrupted by an urgent female voiced request for security. Peering into a tent, was a fairly muscular tall man, hair shaved thin, with three rolls of skin, bulging visibly the length of his neck.

He was arguing “where’s my stuff. The security officer said in a too nice manner. “We think you had better stay somewhere else” “What?” was the indignant reply. “We voted on, and decided you were no longer welcome to stay here…”

“Where’s my stuff?” he demanded, poking his head out, looking around. On the ground, next to another tent, was a large 55 gallon clear trash bag stuffed with an assortment of clothes… Bill, came out, picked the bag, and grabbed a large piece of personalized cardboard and went back into the tent, which by the way, already had someone else sleeping in it.

“We think is it better if you stay elsewhere tonight” security replied. “You’re not welcome here.”

A belligerent head poked out the flap. “Listen, I’ve been working at a bank all day, and I’m tired. I can’t go anywhere else. I just need sleep now… Leave me alone.” then zipping the flap up.

Security walked over to another security with the words, “He’s back.” “What was it the GA decided if he returned?”

“We decided we’d ask him to leave, and if he did not, we’d call the police and have him evicted.”

Across the street in the middle of conference, waited both a County and City police cruisers. and soon two policemen, one wearing navy, the other wearing brown, were at the tent, armed with bright flashlights, along with a crowd of several security personnel.

“Wake Up.” “Wake Up” “Wake Up”.. were heard several times. “You need to leave now.” “I don’t care.” “You need to leave now”

It took about 5 minutes for Bill to realize his time at Occupy Delaware was over, and grabbing his cardboard pallet, and his clear trash bag of clothes, the trudged along the west flank of the plaza.

The police stood until he was, a block later, out of sight. Around the camp discussions over the incident were almost identical.

“I’m sad for him. but it had to be done” was the consensus. When asked why, a reoccurring history was told. Since he joined about 5 nights before, he started showing up around midnight speaking to no one, then usually around 3am he would become really agitated, and could be found at that point roaming the camp, unzipping other’s tents, going through other people’s stuff,and asking everyone for a cigarette. The previous night, he seemed excessively agitated, and when confronted, had used threats of violence to intimidate them. Fortunately he never carried them out; but the group had decided his presence was not productive to the cause. There was considerable debate over whether he was suffering from schizophrenia, or was a user of drugs. The answer came from this observer who said: I’ve never seen schizophrenics immune to excesses of temperature. On his first night, when we had that really cold spell, he was barefoot, wearing only a tea shirt, and seemed completely oblivious to the weather… The dark suited cop, acknowledged he was well know in that area, and had created trouble and was definitely a non desirable.. In fact, said the cop, I’d probably ought to go check up on him. Exiting the group, he U-Turned his cruiser, and headed up 8th Street.

After 5 or 10 minutes of various whispered conversations, a small rain began to fall, and people went into or under a tent…. Soon, the camp appeared empty, devoid of people.