Indeed they do not. About a year ago, in the thick of a hotly contentious round with my now ex-husband, there was a knock on my door on a Saturday morning. I don't answer my door early in the morning, period. And I wasn't dressed. And I was afraid the ex was siccing something nasty on me like a really shoddy PI or something. So I stayed upstairs and looked out of the window.
Guy on my front porch stayed there fifteen minutes, knocking, looking, knocking, knocking more. I should have gone down, but I was sleepy, scared and naked and my judgement wasn't the best. So still I waited for him to go away.
After fifteen or twenty minutes of knocking, he opened my storm door and stuck something in it. He stood there another three or four minutes, and then went to his car. He stayed in his car for another fifteen minutes.
When he finally left, I went down to see what he'd left in my door. It was a card, from the FBI, requesting to talk to me about so-and-so, probably for a routine background check. Handwriting was atrocious, so it took me a little while to figure out that the card wasn't actually meant for me, but for my neighbor. Took longer still for my heart to slow down. And then it finally hit me that hope is dim when the FBI can't get the right damn house number when the numbers are posted plain and clear on the front of the townhouses right next to each other.
So that's my biggest brush with the law. I can truthfully say I've outlasted the FBI in a standoff of sorts! Plus, I can read house numbers. Heh.
LOL!