Alarm set to stun!

I awakened with a start, my apartment's buzzer bleating like a constipated sheep. Stumbling to my feet, I noticed flashing police lights outside my window. Before I could answer the buzzer, there was knock on my door, and four cops stood outside, guns drawn. Aside from that last part, that's how my morning started, as the officers worked to secure my building across the street from where Joe Bergeron's funeral will be held today.
We need you to move your car, said one.
How do you know it's mine? I asked. It was early. I wasn't thinking clearly.
We ran the plates and it's registered to you, he replied. Check mate.
I had to slip into some jeans, run downstairs, past a line of around seventy-five assembled cops, and try vainly to find a place to park. It would not have been a good morning to commit a crime in that vicinity.