Domestic Violence

And I thought I'd get to cut my grass tonight. What was I thinking? Apparently, my little piece of property here in College Hill has become the crime capital of the world. With the recent rape still fresh in my mind, tonight the crime du jour is wife beating.

Robyn, my sister, and I were enjoying some tasty salads at our dining room table (Tobe was enjoying Cheerios) when we heard some commotion outside. It sounded like friendly horseplay, but we've been a little on edge ever since the rape last week, so I grabbed my phone and walked out onto the porch just to make sure all was in fact friendly. It wasn't friendly at all.

The young woman is 20, and her roommate/boyfriend is similar in age. They were walking down the sidewalk, pushing each other, yelling. It really looked harmless until the sound escalated and they started rolling around on the ground, obviously in a fracas.

I started walking toward the situation, keeping a "safe" distance, and saw punches being thrown, although arms were flailing so quickly that I couldn't tell who was hitting who. The boyfriend got up, throwing his arms up with an air of cockiness about him as he walked away, abandoning his injured girlfriend. The warrior had defeated the mighty girlfriend... unbelievable...

She got up and tried to chase after him as he pimpwalked away, trashtalking as he went. As she caught up to him, he pulled a .22 on her. She stopped her pursuit, which was a good idea, as he would've only bloodied her up worse than she was. She gave up and walked back into the middle of the street, hysterical.

In the middle of the street is where I met her. She had an already bruised right eye, two extremely fat lips, bloody teeth, and somehow ended up with a bloody right ear. She didn't look so good. She thought her front teeth were on the ground, but I told her they were still present. Just like last week, I felt very uncomfortable being early on the scene to try to help. When a woman is victimized by a man, the last thing she needs is another man to come to her rescue. But, I figured I was a better option than her continuing to wander around aimlessly weeping in the middle of the street.

I was on the phone with the police dispatch as the boyfriend was making his dramatic escape, and their response time was pretty good. Unfortunately, the officer was a waste of a uniform. I really wanted to trade this officer in for a new one. First, she (the officer) drove right past the victim and me as we were standing in the middle of the freaking street as if there is nothing wrong with a hysterical young woman hanging out in the middle of the street. Thankfully Robyn was in our front yard to point the inept officer back to the scene. The officer seemed to not care one iota that this girl was bleeding and scared. Strictly business.

"Are you going to press charges? Cause if you aren't going to press charges, then I have other things I need to be doing" or something along those lines. It was like she was trying to talk the victim into letting her get back to her regularly scheduled patrol, as if there was something more important going on than a guy beating the shit out of a girl then pulling a gun on her for good measure.

She refused to press charges. She lives with him, she doesn't have a job, she doesn't have any family to lean on in a time like this. She can't press charges because she has "no place else to go." Before heading for the hospital, this poor young woman, obviously in pain, told me that she was afraid he'd come after her if she pressed charges.

Maybe the policewoman bailed on the situation, but I couldn't. How could anyone walk away from this poor girl in a time like this? I got her a towel and an icepack, and I begged her to not go home. If Dude will beat her up on the sidewalk, what will he do behind closed doors? Please, don't go home, I kept telling her.

Her friend arrived on scene and was getting ready to take her to the hospital. "Please, when you leave the hospital, don't go home. " She said, again, that she had no place to go. I offered her my phone number, but her mind was elsewhere. I pointed to my house: "See the purple house? That's where my wife and I live. We'll help you. Please don't go home. He'll do it again. We'll find a place for you. Please, let us help you." She looked at me and nodded. I continued, "Don't be shy. We'll help you. Please come see us."

I walked back to my house honestly thinking that she might come. I hope she stops by. We'll give her everything we can. Mostly, I just hope she doesn't go home. We can find a better home for her. I don't know where, but we'll find something safe if she'll let us.

I'm growing more and more convinced that we are where we need to be, living in the city. I don't know why, but I'm convinced nonetheless.