I just finished an update to the Thursday night shooting, which turned out to be a lot more complicated than it sounded last night. That always happens to me: whenever I expect a shooting or otherwise fatality to be routine (excuse the expression) the story turns out to be more involved. That is because what sounds like breaking news often fizzles out. A car hanging from a bridge turns out to be a fender-bender. A body floating in Lake Merritt turns out to be a sandbag. I have learned to take a few extra minutes but in some cases the mantra is “you never know until you get there.” The biggest surprise last night was not the complicated shooting story but Oakland police. The new chief actually asked reporters if we needed a comment right away instead of waiting for the spokesman to arrive in half an hour or longer. And the officers were friendly. They escorted residents as best they could back into the building (the woman with seven or eight kids) or brought out children to frantic family. They at least listened to people asking to get in. I have heard them more than once do little more than grunt at people locked out at night in the cold from their homes because of a homicide. The neighbors weren’t nearly as combattative, either. I haven’t had time to ask anyone about it yet. Could be a fluke. But I hope not.