cops & robbers in the Big Mango part 3

WARNING: some of you will find this final part disturbing.

I was out late on a week night because JJ – he of the ‘beautiful people’ –
had asked me to go with him to meet a friend who wanted to see me
urgently. The urgency was nothing more than to ask me to tutor his
daughter who was preparing for TOEFL. I was tempted to say yes
as he was offering good money but i told him politely i didn’t
have time.
As midnight approached i took my leave, i had to work next day
and JJ and his friend were bent on staying till the wee hours drinking.
I was lucky to catch the last #73; well, not so lucky as it turned out.
Five passengers and a driver in a hurry on a rattly bus. The rain was
coming down in buckets and the streets were deserted. The other four got
off after only a few stops and that left the driver and me and now that i was
the only paying victim remaining he went even faster than before.
Six or seven stops from my place he pulled up and said, ‘Go!’ I finish here,’
and opened the door for me. I was out on my ear. He swung the bus around
and headed the way we’d come.
I had to walk the rest of the way home and where he kicked me off was
a dark and dingy part of town. Nothing but rain and a sharp wind. I charged
forward. I had a goodly walk ahead and the best to do was to tackle it.

I’d gone a hundred yards when i saw a glint of metal and realised it was
the rear of a motorbike picked out by a watery street lamp. Something
told me stop and i did for a moment before proceeding with caution.
The tail of the bike was sticking out of the mouth of a soi and i recognised it
as a cop bike so two boys in brown and black boots couldn’t be far away,
perhaps relieving themselves in the soi. A soi can be wide enough for a truck
to pass or as narrow as an alleyway; this was an alley.
The last premises before the soi was an old hardware shop and i stood in its
doorway. The rain had eased and everything was quiet. Then i heard voices
in the soi, a man’s gruff voice and a lighter, thinner voice. The man sounded
as if he was giving orders; the lighter voice was a voice of feeble protest.
Since i could hear clearly enough the voices had to be close by, no more than
a few yards into the soi. And then i heard what sounded like slaps followed
by whimpering. I couldn’t resist, i had to take a look.
Two boys in brown and a small figure in a pale dress. One of the cops was
looking up the alley, on lookout duty, and at the same time was fully exposed
and playing with himself; the other had his back to me and was facing the wall
of the first building and between him and the wall was the small figure
kneeling. He was holding her head and pressing his crotch into it and slapping
her into submission. Her whimpers died away as she complied with his demands.
There was nothing i could do. My heart was racing and i feared for my safety.
If those boys saw me i could be in deep shit. I pulled back into the doorway and
tried to calm down. It was best to stay there till they left and the doorway was deep
and offered not only shelter but cover.
There was laughter and i couldn’t resist another peek. The boys in brown had
switched roles although the lookout this time wasn’t playing with himself,
he’d had his bit of fun. I melted back into the doorway.
A few minutes later there was more laughter and chat and the two boys came
to their bike, mounted and rode away.
I entered the soi. The small figure in the pale dress was slumped on the ground
as one who has had everything taken. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen
or fourteen. The only good thing was the rain had stopped completely.

37 thoughts on “cops & robbers in the Big Mango part 3

    • Dawna,
      Thank you very much for reading and responding.
      What could i do? Nothing really..the damage was done.
      All i could do was go home.
      Bless you for your great interest and concern.
      Big hugs
      john

    • Regarding those emotions, Victo, I understand how you feel, I felt much the same way at the time and even recounting the story today I was upset and had a sense of helplessness all over again..I was annoyed i couldn’t do anything to help or even comfort the child.
      Thank You so much for your response.
      My best to you
      John

  1. Such a horror, and it happens constantly. The stories always make me furious. Yet, I know not what to do. So often I hear that education is what these men need. I believe it’s simply one more act of cruelty–enjoying power.

    • It happens constantly as you say, Myra. As i was posting this today i was remembering, too, what has gone in England in recent years where some fourteen hundred children, some as young as ten, were groomed and sexually abused in and around the town of Rochdale. The police report on that has sent shockwaves through the country and it would seem there are more police reports to come about other areas. You’re right, it happens constantly and not just in one or two countries but it would seem practically all over.
      Thank you for reading and supporting.
      john

  2. This sent quite a chill down my spine. In these days one has to wonder how we have the nerve to label ourselves ‘civilised’.
    Your writing reflects the dispassionate nature which exists around such abhorrences. I have nothing more to say now, as words fail me.

  3. A sad, all too common story for so many girls, women, too, whether brutalized by strangers in authority or their own relatives, acquaintances, boyfriends. You were in an impossible situation, too, John. Beautifully written–that last paragraph, especially the last line, is very moving.

  4. Police forces are a microcosm and littered with the same refuse as society at large. I found myself in a similar situation on a subway car in Brooklyn. I had to sit opposite a man who was assaulted and robbed by a gang of youths. I was in no position to help and felt like crap. But I still think Bernard Goetz was opportunistic with his violent urges.
    I have mixed opinions on the Travyon Martin, and Mike Brown shootings. With a sister who is retired NYPD Detective, I’m aware that there is sometimes more to the story.
    In the case of those two cops, I hope they rot in Hell.

    • Thank You, Michael,
      for this fine response and for sharing your own experience, I appreciate that deeply and I’m sorry you had to witness that, always upsetting and frustrating.
      Bless you for reading and commenting.
      My best to you
      John

    • I understand well how your mind doesn’t want to believe it’s true; at the time, I didn’t want to believe it was happening even though I was witnessing it first hand.
      Thank You very much for reading and responding.
      My best to you
      John

  5. “as one who has had everything taken” is such a relevant summary of the horrible experience. Poor child! And I wonder how many children have everything taken every single day and night somewhere in the world.
    John, this is a strong sharing but a necessary one.
    Winnie and myself send love.
    Harry

    • i’m pleased you see it as necessary, Harry, a horror not to be ignored, swept under the carpet because i’m all right, Jack.
      My thanks to You and Winnie for supporting me here.
      Love
      john

    • Yes, Kate, it was a horrible experience, i was upset for days and still am when i recall it now and it’s so graphically imprinted on my mind.
      i saw an even worse ‘episode’ in another country but i will not share that.
      Thank You for your much appreciated support.
      My best to you
      john

  6. Polarizing John! Power has many vices and most in positions of power sell their souls to utilize it for their personal gains and to inflict suffering on others. That control game is as old as humanity. Civil servants appear to be among the most corruptible. Another innocent person, a child who will never be the same person she was before they destroyed her innocence.

    • Jon, My Friend,
      Corruption is with us at every turn, sometimes disguised and sneaky, other times overt but always wrong.
      Thank You for your empathy and for your disgust at despicable acts, innocence is precious and the abuse of it disgraceful.
      Ever Your Friend
      John

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