After buying a card at Grand Central Stationery yesterday I decided to continue down Las Olas and see if I could find Roger Stone’s house.
I drove slowly past the “isles,” looking down each dead end street for local news vans. None were visible. Eventually I turned into a street to check the house numbers – I had noticed Stone’s in the background of one of the TV interviews – and saw that I had at least picked the right side of Las Olas.
A man was backing out of his driveway up ahead and as he came toward me I rolled down my window and put out my hand. “Do you know where Roger Stone’s house is?” I asked a bit sheepishly.
“It’s the next isle over,” he told me readily, which concerned me a little as I wondered if I looked like a friend of Roger Stone. But a friend, you’d think, would know the address.
I got back on Las Olas and then made a quick left onto Stone’s street. No news vans were parked outside the house – I would learn later he had flown to D.C. – but a large portrait of someone covered the glass of the second entrance door. At first I wondered if it might be of Stone, but on my way back I thought it looked more like Richard Nixon. Either way, if it was up last week it would have reassured the FBI agents that they had the right address.
