Monday, February 27, 2012

A frantic plea for help right on my doorstep

It was Saturday morning, 2/25, around 10 AM. I had been awake for about an hour now, had my morning coffee and was going through the motions of beginning my weekend, relaxing, no real plan but to fix my car later. Still in my sweatpants, I heard a frantic knocking on my apartment door, a woman yelling for help. Not knowing what to expect I ran to the closet and grabbed my pistol, put it behind my back and under my sweater, and opened the door. To my right was an Indian woman, frantic and in tears, telling me that her husband was hurting her. The husband there just behind her, stammering that there wasn't a problem. I asked the woman if she would like to come in and call the police, she agreed and I let her in my home, I then closed and locked the door.

I never said a word to the man though from the look on his face, I could tell that he understood that I was taking this seriously. Perhaps  it was the awkward way I had opened the door, with my left hand since my right was behind my back. I never said a word to anyone that I was armed, it was clear that I was prepared. The man continued to knock on my door for some time, then it stopped, that's when I knew the police had arrived.

It had taken them about 7-10 mins to arrive at my apartment, the woman now in my home is my neighbor from directly across the hall.

I didn't ask for this, I wasn't looking for trouble, I was sitting in my home and reading my email when this event came to my doorstep. Later after reflecting upon these events, it occurred to me what it is that truly makes a neighborhood "safe". It's not the average income, the distance to the nearest police station, how nice the houses are, or the cars in your driveway. It's whether your neighbor is willing to stand up for himself and the people around him.