The city of Torrance, known for its good schools, ocean breezes, and million-dollar homes, has a nickname. Some locals lovingly call it “Bore-ance.” Because nothing much ever happens here.
Then Cole Thomas Allen’s face appeared on television. Handcuffed, topless, and lying face down on the hotel floor after allegedly trying to assassinate President Donald Trump at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.
“It’s bizarre that this person lives two blocks away from your house,” says Vince Terrazzino, whose 10-year-old daughter Alessandra was pressing FBI agents for updates as they moved from house to house, knocking on doors and looking for clues.
The agents declined to answer her. For Alessandra and others who live nearby, the mob of media parked on their sidewalks was an unusual sight — irritating to many, but exciting to the young girl.
“Nothing ever happens here,” Terrazzino says, urging Alessandra to tell the BBC what she calls the city. “Bore-ance,” she says.

The Neighborhood in Shock
It started Saturday night shortly after Allen’s arrest in Washington. Helicopters circled above homes all night as law enforcement searched the home he shared with his parents, who many here say they knew as a friendly family. The noise kept almost everyone on the street awake — and tuning into the news to figure out what was going on.
Allen, 31, appeared in court on Monday to face charges but has yet to enter a plea. Prosecutors allege Allen wrote to relatives about his plans, telling them he intended to target as many members of the Trump administration as he could. He was carrying a semi-automatic handgun, a pump-action shotgun, and three knives when he charged past a security checkpoint at the dinner, an affidavit states. An exchange of gunfire left one Secret Service agent injured before Allen was subdued.
Kids on wheelie bikes whizzed by the throngs of news cameras outside the home, hoping to show off their skills on the evening news. They, too, confirmed the “Bore-ance” moniker. People walked their dogs and rode bikes up and down the street, passing tips to the media.
“He used to drink at the Irish bar,” one says. We visited the bar. No one there recognized him. “Talk to the mailman. He knows things,” another says. We did. He didn’t. None of the neighbors we spoke to knew Cole Allen well, beyond smiling and waving. But many know his parents and were protective of them.
“Leave those poor people alone,” says one neighbor who did not want to be identified, adding that he was sick of the media causing traffic jams on the narrow street.
The Quiet Neighbor
Three vehicles are parked outside the Allen home — two cars and a scooter. No one answered the door when countless reporters knocked. Many speculated that the family was staying with friends or relatives after the FBI searched the home.
A few miles away at the tutoring center where Allen worked, no one showed up. But a woman who works next door says she regularly saw Allen on his lunch break, eating alone. “He wouldn’t look at you. He wouldn’t interact,” says Cesilia Peralta. “He never made eye contact.”
She says her 11-year-old daughter was tutored by Allen. They have different tutors each time they show up, but when she showed her daughter Allen’s picture, she recognized him as one of the teachers who helped her. “You never know who you’re around,” Peralta says. “It’s kind of shocking to learn.”
The Caltech Years
When Cole Allen studied at the California Institute of Technology — one of the most prestigious universities in the United States — he worshipped at the nearby Pasadena United Reformed Church. The pastor there, Movses Janbazian, told the BBC that he still remembers Allen.
“It was very sad to hear,” Janbazian says of the news of Allen’s arrest and alleged crimes. He says that Allen was quiet and would come for church services and go back to university. “Caltech is very competitive. He was studying a lot. He would come and go.”
Janbazian says he doesn’t want to talk about politics and that he didn’t know what political leanings Allen had or if he continued to go to church after he graduated and moved away. “I knew him casually,” he says. “I don’t have a lot to add.”
The Irony of Bore-ance
Back on the street where Cole Allen lived, a neighbor wanted us to know that the 1936 Olympic runner and World War II hero Louis Zamperini apparently also lived just down the street. A hero once walked this block. Now, an alleged assassin did too.
The neighbors are left grappling with the dissonance. A quiet suburb. A friendly family. A man who never made eye contact. A plot to kill the president.
“It’s bizarre,” Terrazzino said. And in “Bore-ance,” that might be the understatement of the year.
The Bottom Line
Cole Thomas Allen, the man charged with attempting to assassinate President Donald Trump at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, lived with his parents in the quiet coastal suburb of Torrance, California — a city locals jokingly call “Bore-ance” because nothing ever happens there.
Neighbors told the BBC they were shocked to see his face on television. None knew him well beyond smiling and waving. Many were protective of his parents, who are well-liked in the community. A woman who worked next to his tutoring center said Allen ate lunch alone and never made eye contact. A pastor from his Caltech days remembered him as quiet and studious.
The neighborhood that never has news is now at the center of a national story. And the neighbors are left asking how the quiet man next door became the man who wanted to kill the president.





