I'm still processing the 137-page federal complaint against San Francisco state Sen. Leland Yee, Chinatown gangster Raymond "Shrimp Boy" Chow, and former San Francisco school board member Keith Jackson, among others in what has been alleged as an enormous circle of violence, trafficking and corruption. The only thing I can say for sure right now is that San Francisco has suddenly gotten a lot more interesting.

Things were getting a little bit boring around here, weren't they? All of those stories about techies and housing. All of that harmony on the Board of Supervisors. All of our old problems, like homelessness, seemed so old that we had gotten complacent about them. Even the weather, for the most part, has been as shiny and bright as a new penny.

We had gotten complacent. I had gotten complacent. I've been distracted by the Google buses, hacker hostels and $7 jars of jam at Local Mission Market. Meanwhile, the "grit" we were all so worried about San Francisco losing was alive and well - too alive and well, as it turns out.

The old San Francisco is back - the San Francisco of gangsters and rackets, of crime and rough justice. In one fell swoop, this 26-person cast of characters (some of whom are still on the lam) sent the city rocketing backward out of the land of Mark Zuckerberg and into that of Raymond Chandler.

In some ways, the San Francisco that's been revealed by this incredible case seems familiar, even if it's operating in a parallel universe. Here's the diversity of which we are all so eager to boast - except that it's African Americans and Asians allegedly joining together in a circle of money laundering and murder for hire. Here's the international economy on which we all depend - except that here it's allegedly being used as a conduit for drugs and guns. Here's the tolerant culture that historically made San Francisco a mecca for the dispossessed - except that we never intended it to be quite this tolerant.

I have to confess that I wasn't fully prepared. Corrupt politicians are one thing, but arms trafficking and murder for hire are on a completely different level. I feel a bit like the neighbor who, after someone has gone on a shooting rampage, greets the news crews with the cliche - "He seemed like such a nice guy."

It's not just that the neighbor, or in this case, our local representatives, were so emphatically not nice guys - it's that my imagination hadn't expanded to this scope of crazy.

The morning after I read the complaint, I found myself studying the faces of the people I passed very carefully. My friendly, round-faced neighbor, who often holds the door for me while he takes a smoke outside; the plump girl who always wears a beanie; and the bespectacled young man who always clutches a backpack while they take the same bus as I do in the morning - who knows what they're really doing with their time? Who knows what lurks in their hearts?

Maybe it sounds like I'm overreacting, but this whole episode is forcing me to look at my own city differently. After all, if I didn't see this train wreck coming, what else am I missing?


Caille Millner is a San Francisco Chronicle staff writer. E-mail: cmillner@sfchronicle.com