By Michael Tesauro

When I heard the phrase “there was a shooting in San Bernardino” on Dec. 2, my initial thought was: “What’s new?”

The violence is why people leave. I moved from San Bernardino to neighboring Redlands hoping to escape. And so I wound up living about 75 yards away, and nine doors down, from the townhome rented by Syed Rizwan Farook and Tashfeen Malik. I walked my dogs by the place, but don’t remember ever seeing them. On the day of the shooting, I stayed inside and listened as my hometown became a worldwide talking point.

Within hours, MRAPs were circling my neighborhood. Helicopters were overhead. By night I was locked down, and by Thursday morning the area was a federal investigation site.

Two days after the massacre, I walked outside and found that the police tape had been taken down. News production trucks filled the empty spaces where law enforcement mobile command centers had been parked. I could move freely, so I chose to go see my neighbor’s house in person, without a pundit or newscaster guiding me.

I stood at the edge of the press pit and watched landlord Doyle Miller peel back plywood on the home he rented to Farook and Malik.

Many times last week, I was asked by reporters how I felt about Farook and Malik “living in my neighborhood.”

I live amid all kinds of people here from all kinds of places. Some of these people are older. They have lived here for 20 and more years. They are usually Caucasian and have lawn signs for Republican candidates. They were the ones reporters most often sought out. They are the American, home-owning neighbors, drawn into this “I can’t believe they were right there, in our neighborhood” narrative.

Outside of the older demographic, there are a few young families. I am good friends with a Tunisian family a few doors down. A single father lives across the street from me; we have different views on politics, but we get along because we’re both young. That is more or less my social circle. Generally, I don’t know most of my neighbors because they are ever-changing.

There always seems to be a new family coming or going. This is usually job-related. We live within walking distance of the headquarters of Esri — the largest global mapping company. ESRI has an international workforce, and they often bring in employees on H-1B visas. These employees and their families will rent a home close to the campus, work for a time, and eventually leave.

In “small-town America,” the new Muslim family on the block might cause a stir. But in my neighborhood, that is not the case. Passing Esri employees as they walk to or from campus is common. Many are of South Asian or North African descent. Seeing men and women in traditional garb is not new or different. This is why Farook and Malik fit in.

The Thursday immediately following the shooting and the home search, I was interviewed by a Los Angeles news station. “How does that make you feel?” the news anchor asked me, “that they were right there. That they had bombs.” My answer to the news anchor was along the lines of, “That’s the world we live in, I guess.”

I do indeed fear the terrorist next door, but there were all kinds of terrors in San Bernardino, and odds are that a terrorist is more likely to look like me (a guy with fair skin and brown hair) than like Farook or Malik.

For a too-brief moment, my hometown — finally — was the focal point of intersecting conversations about gun control and violent crimes. And then, quickly, the 2015 San Bernardino story veered toward terrorism. San Bernardino’s other problems are put on mute. The terrorism story will come and go.

What will become of San Bernardino when the national conversation turns elsewhere? Won’t things go back to the violent normal? I ask myself where the calls for prayer, the memes, and assertive Facebook posts were prior to the Inland Regional Center shooting, the darkest moment of a tragedy that has been going on for a long time, in slow motion.

Michael Tesauro is a writer and professor based in Redlands, California.