Jackie Lane’s worst fears came true this week.

The Garfield resident said she knew that Bill Hardison — killed after a tense, six-hour standoff that started Wednesday with an eviction notice — would not leave 4817 Broad St. quietly.

Neighbors on Thursday said they had seen Hardison evade Allegheny County sheriff’s deputies and Pittsburgh police officers over the pending eviction. When the mailman hand-delivered a certified letter recently to Hardison about the eviction, he tore it up in front of him, then handed back the scraps.

Lane said she even called the sheriff’s office and the new owner of the property to warn them that Hardison was dangerous.

Then, around 10:30 a.m. Wednesday, seven sheriff’s deputies in standard-issue body armor knocked on Hardison’s front door, authorities said.

And he opened fire.

“We knew he was unstable. Most of us were afraid of him,” said Lane, 71, a retired CFO who grew up in Wheeling, W.Va., and moved to Garfield about two years ago. “We knew he wouldn’t leave peacefully. But we had no idea what would happen.”

Lane joined her neighbors as they returned Thursday morning to Broad Street homes riddled with bullet holes and tried to put together the pieces.

Neighbors said they were surprised more people weren’t killed or injured, considering thousands of rounds were fired during the standoff, according to estimates. Beyond Hardison’s death, which the Allegheny County Medical Examiner’s Office said Thursday likely resulted from being shot by law enforcement, one sheriff’s deputy suffered what officials described as a superficial head injury when he dived for cover.

As residents sat on porches and shared their experiences, volunteers from a local nonprofit wandered the block, passing out bottled water and lists of resources.

People who identified themselves as friends and family of Hardison gathered outside the bullet-riddled, partially boarded-up house where he had been living. At one point in the afternoon, they released several balloons in his memory.

Pittsburgh officials brought in contractors Thursday to mow Hardison’s overgrown lawn.

A city resident who identified herself by her indigenous name, Chief Ikhana, stood on the steps of Hardison’s house Thursday afternoon with about a half-dozen family members and friends, and railed against local authorities.

“Why did the shooter at the Tree of Life (synagogue) live and this man was carried off in a body bag?” said Ikhana, 47, who said she knew Hardison from social media. “When is the city of Pittsburgh ready to answer that?”

“Somebody just passed away, (Hardison’s family) needs to regroup,” she said. “But I hope they hold the city accountable.”

Nearby, Lane sat on her porch, staying away from the devastation inside her home.

Numerous bullets had pierced the walls of Lane’s two-story home, and whizzed around the living room and dining room, tearing up furniture, she said.

Plaster dust — sometimes several inches of it, created when bullets ripped through walls — covered furniture and floors in affected homes.

Neighbors said they knew sheriff’s deputies planned to evict Hardison, who moved into 4817 Broad St. in around March. Some said they intentionally stayed away from the block Wednesday because they knew he was scheduled to be evicted that day.

Lane said she tried to stay away, but news of the shooting brought her back around noon.

She said she couldn’t get into her house to save her black cat Mama Mia, 15, and dogs Nikita, 8, and Pounce, 3, until 8 p.m. Wednesday, after standing on a nearby corner for several hours.

Her pets had been hiding safely in the basement.

“They were OK,” said Lane, sitting on her porch next to the two dogs. “The worst part of this was opening that front door and not knowing if they were hurt or dead. Animals are animals. But they’re also family.”

Broad Street resident Cheryl Patterson, a retired school custodian who proudly identifies herself as the oldest person on the block, didn’t leave her home of 43 years when sheriff’s deputies were scheduled to evict Hardison.

Then the shooting erupted.

“I didn’t really get shaken up until I heard the big booms,” said Patterson, 75. “I didn’t know where to go.”

Patterson called her son, who told her to run to the basement.

She said she was down there for three hours — with water, but little food — before police told her it was safe to evacuate.

“If worst came to worst, I was ready to down that can of sardines,” she laughed.

Patterson, who spent Wednesday night with her granddaughter in the Hill District, had nothing but good things to say Thursday about authorities who tried to evict Hardison.

“The police did an excellent job,” Patterson said. “They kept us safe, I don’t care what anybody says. They went above and beyond the call of duty.”

Leslie Thompson, like Patterson, fled to her basement when gunfire rang out. Thompson grew up in Pittsburgh’s East End and moved into her then-newly built Broad Street house 15 years ago.

After police evacuated her from the basement, she and her husband, Jerry — who left work to meet her on Penn Avenue — stayed with family overnight in Homewood.

“I didn’t sleep last night, I didn’t sleep at all,” Thompson, 53, said Thursday. “I was anxious and just wanted to be back in my house.”

Thompson usually works from home, but she said her boss told her to take paid time off until Monday.

When Thompson returned to her home at 8 a.m. Thursday, she found that bullets she had heard while hiding in the basement had pierced the front of her house, leaving sizable holes in her grayish-purple living room walls. One shot destroyed a clock next to her couch.

After getting home, Thompson called her homeowner’s insurance company to start the process of cleaning up from the standoff. She hopes city officials cover her $500 deductible.

But on Thursday she wanted to talk more about her neighborhood, and how the standoff had changed it — for the better.

“We don’t come out front,” Thompson said. “We typically sit out back, we entertain out back, we even park out back.”

Around lunchtime Thursday, though, Thompson held court near a beige welcome mat on her front porch, joking with neighbors and telling stories to the reporters who saturated the block.

“I think there’s a positive to this, absolutely,” she said, smiling. “We’re all starting to get to know everybody better.”

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