“Have you ever witnessed a robbery?”
It was a random text from a friend of mine that arrived completely out of the blue this week. I was about to write back and tell him “NO,” when I remembered that sound.
It was years ago, when my daughters were both still very small. I was getting them out of the car in a drugstore parking lot when I heard the most horrible noise. It sounded like a cat caught under a rocking chair and when I turned towards it, I saw a woman being dragged by a car. Someone had apparently grabbed her purse as they drove by, but she was not letting go. I shoved both of my kids back in the car and (heroically, in my mind) started chasing the car on foot. It sped up, causing the woman to let go, but I got the license plate number before they drove away. I stayed with the woman while she waited for police, and the drugstore employees told us they had the men involved on surveillance cameras. They’d been hanging around the shop for a while, just waiting for someone small and frail to target. I thought we had these guys red-handed, between the license-plate and video, but the police weren’t so sure. In fact, a run of the plates showed that the car was stolen, so it was already a dead end.
I should tell you that, at this point in time, I was already calling the police on a regular basis. I’d spotted a man just a few weeks before, standing near my daughters’ daycare with his unit hanging out of his pants. I called the police on several occasions after that, whenever I spotted him flopping his junk around. I’d scream out my window at him and even tried to chase him once, but he always evaded me and the police, and the other parents who witnessed his nastiness.
That was bad, but I felt far worse for the bloodied and bruised old woman at the drugstore. The police said they’d call me if they caught the men responsible, but I never heard anything.
“There is no justice in the world,” I thought, “and it’s filled with disgusting, horrible people.”
“Oh yeah, he’s serving 20 years!”
My friend had gotten a request for pro bono work from a man in prison and while reviewing his case, he found my name as a witness.
“The driver was convicted as well. They’re beyond my help!”
BOTH of the men who were in the car that day are in prison, doing time for multiple convictions. This is how seven years later, through a series of texts with a buddy, I found out justice had finally been served.
Now, if we could just catch that wiener waggler.