We don't need to touch, just...
Breathe On Me
Once upon a time, a woman was picking up firewood.
She came upon a poisonous snake frozen in the snow.
She took the snake home and nursed it back to health.
One day, the snake bit her on the cheek.
As she lay dying, she asked the snake, "Why have you done this to me?"
And the snake answered, "Look bitch, you knew I was a snake."
...
Twenty years ago, I saw the demon in my dreams.
I was waiting for you.
...
[Words borrowed from Oliver Stone's Natural Born Killers. Spoken in Navajo by actor Russel Means.]
music: Tool - Sober
Wed Sep 8 16:19:27 MDT 2004
I just made a futile attempt to call the number printed on the back of the card given to me by the officer from the Westminster Police Department. That happened on Friday, August 27, 2004. Though it seems like ages ago, the moment is still crystal clear in my mind.
I was packing my stuff back into my car to depart from my dad's apartment in the middle of the night, on Friday, August 27. It must have been around 2am, but that's a wild guess. (I guess technically then, it was Saturday, August 28.) The reason I was packing, I had told my dad, was because I didn't feel safe in the neighborhood. The shouting outside earlier had bothered me, and I needed to leave. My dad had told me I was mentally ill, and needed to get help. He said that tonight, I should just close the door, try to sleep, and we could figure it out in the morning. But I COULD NOT REST.
So I was I loading my car with all the valuables from my dad's place, including my computer, carefully making sure to pack everything securely. (I knew I was readying myself for a multi-day urban survival lesson, ready to live only out of my car for a while, because some of the stuff happening around my mom's place had been wierding me out too, but in a different way.)
As I was carrying out my monitor, I suddenly heard shouting from the parking lot in the neighboring apartment complex. Oh no. I can't take any more of this tonight. I'm supposed to be staying calm and laying low. I already had one freakish visit with the police earlier in the evening. But the shouting was unmistakable. There was a fight, and it was happening in the parking lot.
So much for mental stability...
I set the monitor on my car, walked over to where I heard the noise, and tried to observe what was going on. A man -- quite muscular, obviously angry -- and a woman, smaller build but definitely physically fit, were about to come to blows. There was so much shouting from both of them that I could not clearly understand what either was saying.
Time to get involved...
From a safe distance of several yards away, I asked what was going on.
The man immediately responded with something along the lines of, "This is none of your fucking business. Get the fuck away."
I responded that I would back away, if they would calm down and stop shouting. The woman shouted at me, in tears, "He's keeping my baby trapped up in his apartment, and he won't let me get it out."
Since it was clear that at least ONE of the involved parties was welcoming of my presence, I walked a little closer, and tried to get more information about what was going on. (I had no idea that the training we had undergone during the very last skill share at ASR would be put to use this quickly, but here I was, in a scenario that matched almost exactly what had been discussed in hypothetical terms 6 days prior.)
The woman, calming down, began walking toward me, and described how her infant was stuck in his apartment, and needed care. The man became increasingly agitated, and began threatening physical harm against me if I didn't back off.
Weighing the options, I didn't take long to come to a decision. I checked my pocket, and found that the cell phone was there. Thank goodness I had it with me. The digits 9-1-1 didn't take long to dial.
An operator answered in short order. I told her what was going on. She asked what the address was. My calm was leaving me. I asked frantically if anybody knew what the address was. The man, shouting more violent threats with every second, wasn't going to tell me anything. The woman didn't know. I didn't know what my dad's address was either. I just know the location.
Desperate now, I shouted to the buildings, hoping someone might have a window open, "Does ANYBODY know what the address here is?"
No answer. Fuck these stupid, apathetic people. Fuck this whole neighborhood. (Was I really THAT crazy to want to leave this pathetic town behind? Someone is in desperate trouble, and they're all so drugged out, asleep, buried in their sound-proof fortresses, or just plain uncaring that even in an apartment complex housing hundreds of residents, not a single person will even bother to shout out the street address during an emergency.)
Momentarily, the fighting couple had backed off from one another, and were holding defensive positions. With the phone still connected, I went to the only place I knew. I ran back across the parking lot, into the building, and up the stairs to my dad's place, and woke him up.
Yes, he would believe my "mental illness" had taken a sharp turn for the worse, but with lives potentially in danger, it was worth that risk. I ran into the apartment, my voice probably far louder than it needed to be, and asked him what the address here was. Dazed, he stumbled out of bed. I hated to wake him, but it was the quickest way I could think of to resolve this. We needed the address NOW.
He didn't answer directly, and instead said, "What's going on now?" I told him I had 911 emergency on the line, and they needed the address here. I handed him the phone, and let him talk to them.
He spoke to the operator in his slow, groggy voice. I think he did more than give them the address; he may have also tried to tell them about my mental illenss. But I wasn't listening very closely, so I'm not sure. I ran back to look out the window, and see if the situation across the parking lot had changed. They were still shouting at each other, but that was all. Good.
After my dad got done talking to the operator, he handed the phone back to me, and they said they would send someone out as soon as possible.
With that out of the way, I went back outside. (Round trip time, in and out of the apartment, in actuality, was probably around the span of 2 minutes, but it seemed like much longer.)
I ran back out to the scene of the fight to see how things were progressing. I informed the woman that I had called 911, and the police should be on the way. From the man came even more absurd accusations, threats, and violent posturing. He accussed her, who he supposedly considered his "girlfriend", of "getting together" with me. She pointed out the absurdity of such a statement, given that I was a total stranger who had just arrived on the scene. But from his limited perspective, I suppose it made sense to him. Otherwise, why would I be getting involved?
The three of us were now locked in an empassé. For a moment, he made as if to walk back toward the apartment -- where he could potentially retrieve (or harm) the baby. But as he walked up the stairs, rather than following him up, the woman came in my direction. Careful.
Shit, she was attractive. I could barely contain myself from saying so. In fact, despite the inappropriateness of it, I think I even said something to the effect of, "Damn, you look really hot." To which I think she smiled, acknowledging that moment; suspending, for just a tiny, brief instant, the tension caused by her child's endangerment.
It worked. The man stopped before he got to the door. His jealousy would not allow him to pass out of sight for even an instant, which meant that he could not touch the baby. He could not go in and hurt it. He could not get to it without leaving her outside with me. For the moment, that baby would be as safe as could be.
He returned to the parking lot, and got into increasingly close range with the woman, face to face -- threatening her even more directly. She did not back down.
Remembering my training, I stood to the side; ready if needed, but not interceding. He began to move his hands as if to take a swing at her, and I moved in a bit closer, but still did not come between them. Obviously, he did not like this, and now turned to face me, and made the same threating gestures, motions, and words in my face.
Then the girl got back into it, and started shouting in his face, telling him to quit being such a fool. (I was liking her more with every passing second, but that's a side issue.)
Then for a moment, the three of us stood in a triangle, and he continued to shout at me, then at her. In a sudden flash, his fist came into quick contact with my jaw.
Milliseconds passed. I blinked my eyes. I had fallen backwards, and was sitting on the pavement. The skin on my lip had been broken. He continued to shout at me, threatening to beat me up more. Now I did begin to retreat, but slowly. This had escalated to a level I was unprepared to deal with.
The woman now stood aside. She was taking a short rest. Good. Finally, the heat was off of her for a moment.
As I began to back away, the guy was no longer content with simply letting me back away. He asked me if I wanted him to chase me. I shrugged. It didn't matter to me now. But I could see what was coming, and I accepted it.
I got up and began to run back in the general direction of my dad's apartment. He followed in pursuit, but though he was muscular, he wasn't much of a runner. With manic adrenaline pumping hard, I almost had to make an effort to stay slow enough to let him think he had a chance, and thus keep him following.
Lead him away from the woman and her baby. My imperative. An order from the Goddess? Who the hell knows? No, probably just some pattern that, through natural selection, found its way into my ancestors' DNA a few hundred generations ago. What's the difference, anyway?
I didn't have to go far before I stopped pursuit, and began to run back in the direction of the woman. I started to follow, but paused. I walked slowly back in that direction. I couldn't do everything for everyone.
Right at that moment, police sirens made their way down the street. First one police car, then. moments later, another. One of the officers asked me what was going on. I told them about the two who had been fighting, the baby being held hostage (which I hadn't seen myself, so I made sure to clarify that this was what I had heard from her). Some of the police ran in the direction I was pointing, while another stayed to talk with me.
What happened next was outside of my view, behind the fence. I waited while several officers took on the man, eventually got him into handcuffs, and put him into the back of a squad car.
What followed were a series of questions. They asked if I needed an ambulence. (Clearly, I was bleeding.) I decided I didn't. My jaw would be ok, and I didn't want more hassles than necessary tonight. Easier to clean it up myself. They asked if I wanted to press changes against him. I had to think on this one for a moment, and asked what it would mean if I said yes. They said that it appeared as if I had been the victim of assault, and I could have the district attorney press charges against him if I elected to. I contemplated briefly, and said, "yes".
I wasn't even that worried about my own wound -- it would heal soon enough. But NO ONE should be allowed to kidnap a small child, hold it hostage from its mother while threatening her with violence, and then be released on the streets again to commit more rampages against others. Symbolically, in that moment, I laid down my flag of anarchy, and acceded to the government. Besides, these police officiers seemed a lot more friendly than the ones who had tried to interrogate me earlier in the evening. (But I knew this was only because of the differing circumstances.)
As directed, I filled out a form, wrote a statement, and one of the officers gave me his card, with a case number and a line to call in case I had any questions. They also photographed my face from several angles, documenting the damage that had occurred as a result of the blow.
Today, in the mail, I received a letter from the Westminster Municipal Court. The body reads as follows:
Part of the sentence in the above case may be to pay restitution for any damages or injuries NOT COVERED BY INSURANCE incurred as a direct result of this incident.
The above incident occurred on 8/28/2004 at [address].
If you are interested in pursuing restitution, you must submit written estimates, receipts or other documentation establishing the expenses you have incurred as a result of this incident not covered by insurance.
We must receive the request for restitution no later than October 1, 2004. If documentation is not received by this date, no restitution will be awarded in this case.
Please return your documentation for the restitution to the following address:
[cut]
I have no such documentation. I didn't visit a doctor. Maybe if I had said "Yes" to the ambulence, that would have counted. But honestly, why waste time or energy for such stupid hassles? I don't want money. Despite my general idealogy, I'm of half a mind to just say, "Can't they just lock the fucker up and be done with it?"
Of course, I know that's not likely to happen. Though I am no expert on the specifics of the law, I suspect there's a good chance he'll get a light sentence, be out in a few months (he's likely to be out on bail for now already, but I don't know), and roaming the streets to terrorize other women and their kids.
If that girl knows what's good for her, she's probably left the state already, and made sure there's no way he can find her. I hope she makes it. I think she will, because she's both tough and smart. If I ever saw her again, I would have to seriously consider proposing marriage on the spot. No joke. (Ok, maybe just a little bit of joke, but as far as my taste in women goes, she's the best I've seen, in... well... ever?) But honestly, I think she knows better than to come back around this neighborhood ever again.
With things calming down, and my mental states returning to something almost resembling equilibrium, I tried to call the number to ask about the case this afternoon. Mostly, I wanted to know whether they will want me to take the witness stand, but I am also curious to find out whether that goon has been released. If he has, I should be on extra careful watch for my car, bike, and other belongings whenever I come near my dad's apartment, because he lives not far away. If he sees me, I don't know what he would do.
But when I tried to call the district today, all I got was a busy signal. Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.
In this episode, there was one aspect where I did NOT follow my training. Had I been a true anarchist, I would never have called the cops. I would have stood and dealt with the situation without involving law enforcement. Maybe next time the community forms a circle, if the topic fits the discussion, I'll relate this to the others I trust, and ask about possible alternative ways to deal with such a situation.
Right now, the way it's going doesn't feel very satisfying to me at all. I asked for the help of the law, and I got it, but now I find myself paying the price. I'm in the dark, confronted with with a massively inefficient bureaucracy in the pursuit of "justice". "Justice" is also an organization that wants to lock up my friends if it catches them smoking pot, and it might very well give them harsher sentences than it would give abusers such as the one I confrented. I don't trust "justice" in America. But now that I have chosen this path, I need to follow through with it.
...
Next time, in the much more satisfying fantasy version of things...
I DON'T dial 911. Instead, the woman and I figure out a clever way to extract her baby from his clutches (maybe I distract him while she runs in to retrieve her child), I lead him on a foot chase into the Little Dry Creek river, where he gets stuck in the mud while I run back to my car. With she and her kid now safe, we rendezvous 20 minutes later at a nearby restaurant. The two of us fall in love, pool our possessions, and caravan it across the country with no worries ever again.
Happily Ever After...
Hah!
But I can keep dreaming, can't I?
I contemplate posting a distilled version of this elsewhere. Maybe on my mostly dead livejournal, and/or perhaps put a copy on yanthor.net as well.
But honestly, what would be the point? Anybody who wants to read the junk I write already knows where this page is. I think I'll just leave it here for now, rather than trying to spam the world with my "most important" pieces, like I was doing for a while last week.
I do need to get a working RSS feed going again though. And comments too. Soon. Very soon.
Wed Sep 8 18:55:53 MDT 2004