It’s a Crime, but Things Like This Happen

We were going into the city for fun, for adventure, my daughter and I, just as I once went downtown to see the sights with my parents.

Although we could have driven, my daughter wanted to take the bus. For her, public transportation was an amusement, part of the urban adventure. For me, having grown up without a car, it was a sentimental journey.

By the time we got downtown and had to walk around a loud group of drunks staggering in a doorway, the city was losing some of its appeal. “I don’t like it here,� said Hannah.

I suggested we go get a slice of pizza. As we approached the pizza place, two young men came running out of a shop with their arms full of clothes. They were pursued by a short young woman screaming, “Stop! Police! Police!�

The woman chased them to their truck, which was double-parked in front of the shop. She yanked the door open and pulled at the clothes. They pushed her and threw her to the ground. She sat there crying. A little girl of about 4, apparently her child, came out of the shop and stood there crying with her.

Dozens of people now stood around paralyzed like myself. Hannah grabbed my hand and said: “I want to get out of here. Now .� Her instinct for danger was 100% intact.

I went up to the crying woman. “Are you OK?� I asked. “Yes, yes,� she sobbed, “I can’t believe this can happen.�

It was noon in the heart of the city on a very busy street. Others in the crowd approached the woman. No vigilantes surrounded the truck. No Guardian Angel stepped forth to say, “Enough.�

The really odd part was the calmness of the apparent thieves. They were stuck in traffic.

If the anonymous city was an accomplice to the crime, gridlock was the hero that stopped it. Realizing they could easily be apprehended, the two threw the clothing back at the woman. They sat there for a few minutes looking nonchalant. Then a break occurred in the traffic and they drove off.

“Let’s go. Let’s go now,� said Hannah. “I want to get away from here. I want to go home.�

She was holding onto my hand for dear life. We walked away swiftly. I went through the usual cliches about how bad things do happen, not just on television, but that there are good things and good people, too. I suggested that the men were most likely drug users looking for a quick fenceable item they could turn into cash for drugs. I supposed that they never expected the woman to pursue them as she did. I told her I probably wouldn’t have taken that chance myself.

What I was thinking about, though, was how helpless I had felt. I hadn’t even noticed the make or license number of the truck. Nor could I really describe the perpetrators other than “youths in some kind of hats.� I’m usually an observant person. Had I instinctively not gotten involved? All I could remember was the calmness of the men who had initiated the drama. Everyone else, including myself, had freaked out.

When we got to the bus stop, Hannah announced: “We’re safe now. Nobody would try to rob the bus.�

She talked about feeling especially sorry for the little girl who saw what we assumed was her mommy’s store being robbed. “Nobody would try to rob the newspaper where you work,� Hannah said. “I mean, there’s nothing there you could sell for drugs. Just newspaper.�

On the ride home, we held hands and talked about it. Her hand comforted me. She did not let go until we got to our car at the other end of the line. “Car, sweet car,� she said. She wanted to go straight home. Forget the doughnut I had promised. What she had seen in the city made her sick.

I hugged her tightly and said I was sorry she had seen what she did but that, in fact, such things do happen.

“Well, it will certainly be on the news tonight,� she said.

And then I had to tell her the worst part. No, it wouldn’t be on the news.

Why? Because such things happen all the time.