An Unwelcome Blast from the Past

Last Wednesday I received a letter from the U.S. Department of Justice United States Parole Commission. I knew immediately what it was about. It didn’t exactly send a cold chill down my spine but it did give me pause. And I was in a weird mood for the rest of the night.

The letter was about the guy who mugged me so many years ago. In 1997 to be exact. The letter informed me that the offender had a parole hearing. If I would like to participate by submitting a letter, or have any question to give them a call.

I called the number left for me. I talked to a very  nice woman. She said that there had been an initial hearing. She said I hadn’t been contacted before the hearing because they didn’t have my name at first. There had been a first set of names sent to their office. Then later a second list which my name was on. It also took a little while to find me.

It was after all over 18 years since this had all happened. I’d only moved twice during that time. I can only imagine the difficulty in finding the other people involved in the case. A few years back I did a post that went into the details of the attack.

I was told there was a couple of ways to proceed. They could have another hearing. I would go down to their office. There would be a video and audio link up at there office to the prison. I could see and hear my mugger but he could only hear me. I didn’t really like that idea. Mostly because I didn’t want to take time off of work to do something like that. It also was just a little too creepy for my taste. The other option was to write a letter. I liked that option much more.

And the following is what I wrote and sent off to the Parole Board. I’ve deleted the name of the person I talked to at the Board and the name of the guy who mugged me. (Sort of like Dragnet the names have been changed to protect the innocent well at least one person who's innocent.):

To whom it may concern:

First, I’d like to thank the parole office for tracking me down. For informing me of what was happening and giving me the chance to make a statement.

I admit I’m not exactly sure how to proceed with this but I want to give you a sense of the impact this assault by Mr. X had on me.

It was probably the worst experience I’ve had in my life. To be assaulted in such a manner, in broad daylight right across the street from where I lived was terrible. It was very violent. I was asked for money. I had no time to react to this because I was punched in the face. The backpack I was wearing was ripped off my back and I was thrown to the ground. I lay there stunned while my wallet was taken and my pockets gone through. Thankfully a neighbor happened to come out of his house at this time. It was good timing because right at that moment a knife was produced. In light of Mr X’s subsequent MO, I was about to be stabbed. Again thankfully the neighbor came out and scared people off.

I staggered to my apartment and called the police. I’d like to say I felt safe but I didn’t. I’d like to say I calmed down but I didn’t. I’d like to say I was relieved it was over but in reality it was only beginning.

Because it took place literally across the street from where I lived, I simply could not get over what happened to me. Every time I left the apartment building I was reminded of what had occurred. I moved out of my apartment in less than a month. It was a monumental upheaval of my life. I had to sleep with the lights on until I moved out. I lost sleep. I couldn’t concentrate. I was jumpy all the time. Whenever I saw a group of teenagers walking down the street toward me, I crossed to the other side. I felt guilty for doing that but I thought better safe then attacked again.

I’d found a wonderful new place to live in Foggy Bottom but it took me months to enjoy it. I finally realized that in the back of my mind the new place was a reminder of what happened to me.

Then there was the criminal process. While I was more than happy to help the police and the district attorney with this case, it was a constant reminder of what happened. Going to the line up, appearing before the grand jury brought everything back to the surface. It made it seem like it had just happened instead of happening months before. It was a relief when Mr. X was convicted. It brought some closure to what happened to me but I was still dealing with it for many more years.

That gives you a basic idea of what happened to me. But that was then.

This is now. And that counts a great deal more as far as I’m concerned.

I live in a really nice house in Brookland. I’ve been here for over 13 years. The neighborhood has blossomed in the time that I’ve been here. There are new stores and restaurants opening just about every month. I have quick and easy access to the Metro which can take me any where in the DC area. It is a great place to be.

Over the years I’ve thought what I would say when the time for Mr. X’s possible release neared. I happened upon the clippings I saved from the 1997 sentencing hearing a while back. That really got me thinking about what I would say.

Enough time has passed to give me perspective on what happened to me. I’ve come to terms with it.

As strange as this may sound, if I hadn’t been mugged, I would not be living where I am now. The mugging caused me to move to Foggy Bottom. After a time renting there, I decided it made more sense to buy a house then continue to pay rent. I ended up buying a house in Brookland. And my house is a very good thing. Like the neighborhood I’m living in is a very good thing.

At his sentencing hearing 18 years ago, Mr. X seemed sorry for what he had done. The Parole Commission said he has been a good prisoner.  With that in mind and after giving it a great deal of thought, I think that Mr. X should be paroled. I think Mr. X deserves a chance to have a life out of prison. I think he deserves a chance to find a very good thing like I have. I wish him luck in that pursuit.

Sincerely

I'm told in a few week there will be a decision. And that I will be informed of what it is. I hope he gets in part because I think he deserves a second chance. But also because I never want to have to deal with this again.

Ten years ago today

Ten years ago today I was living at 12th and E Streets NE.

Ten years ago today I was employed at the World Bank.

Ten years ago today I took a class on Illustrator at EEI Communications in Alexandria.

Ten years ago today on my way home from the class I stopped off at the video store where my friend Carol worked to say hi.

Ten years ago today a block from my apartment I was mugged.

It had been a fairly nice day for the end of February. The weather was rather warm and sunny. I’d gotten out of the office. The class had been very interesting. If I hadn’t been at the class none of this would have happened. I’d gotten out of the class before I’d normally would have gotten out of work. Even with the time figured in for the commute from Alexandria to the Union Station Metro stop, I was getting home earlier than I would have from work. I’d stopped by to say hi to my friend Carol at the video store and headed home.

I was less than a block from my apartment in fact I was practically across the street from it when everything happened. Two young African-American men were walking down the side walk. To get past them I walked between them which is of course what they wanted me to do. The one guy asked me for my wallet. Well perhaps asked is not exactly the right way to describe the tone of voice used. I guess I didn’t react fast enough. I was after all a little surprised at the request. So I was punched in the face. As an interesting side note when you’re punched in the face there’s an actual sound made when the fist connects with you the area around your eye. I had my backpack with me and the other one grabbed that and swung me around and I ended up on the ground.

I was dazed because I’d hit my head on the grass. As I was laying prone on the ground, my wallet was taken and my other pockets searched. There were also two other guys there. I’m pretty sure at one point a knife was pulled. So even after getting my money, which wasn’t very much, they were going to hurt me. (In fact this turned out to be the m.o. of the ring leader of the group getting money from people and then hurting them.) Thankfully at that point in time a neighbor came out of his house and scared them away.

I was a little dazed and confused. I’d lost my glasses. The main thing I wanted to do was get into my apartment as quickly as possible. Luckily, although my keys had been taken out of my pocket, they had just been thrown on the ground. The neighbor asked if I was ok. I just picked up my keys and headed into my apartment.

I was bleeding from my head and I would later find out I had one hell of a shiner. The first thing that I did was call 911. Now I realize the series of questions I was asked is used to determine the priority of the emergency but at the time they seemed to be sort of silly to me. One was well are the perpetrators still there. I’m thinking well no because I’m talking to you on the phone. The one that really got me was did I think I needed medical attention. I’d described my injuries and thought it was pretty obvious I needed an ambulance.

I waited for someone to arrive. I paced my apartment. I just couldn’t sit still at all. The police were the first to arrive. I’m not even sure how they got into the building. I must have let them in. Then the questions started. How many, what they looked like, where’d they go etc etc. Then in a little while the emergency crew arrive. They gave me a once over. Felt pretty sure I did not have a conclusion but weren’t sure how sever the cut on the back of my head was. They thought I should go to the hospital. The EMT guys were great and the police were too.

Before I got in the ambulance, I asked if we could see if it was possible to locate my glasses. They had been punched off my face when I’d been hit. The police, EMTs and myself looked but couldn’t find them. I made a big deal out of it. I guess in some way I wanted to take back what had happened to me.

Off to the hospital. It took longer than it should have because some guy had parked his car in the street and the ambulance couldn’t get around it. The driver had to get out and tell the guy to move. The driver came back and said the guy was drunk in his car.

At the hospital I was whisked into the emergency room. They went over me. Looking at my eye. Seeing to my head injury. They decided I didn’t need any stitches and that I didn’t have a concussion. In one of those small world moments, I was given an ice pack to put on my eye. There wasn’t any ice in the bag . It was a plastic bag with two sections in it. When twisted the sections would break into one section and the chemicals in each of the sections combined and produced the same effect of an ice bag. As I was looking at the bag I noticed it was made by Abbot Labs in Mundelein, Illinois which just so happened to be the town I grew up in. In fact I’d even worked at Abbot Labs one summer during college. I will say that I would have been more than happy to not have found that out.

The police came in and took pictures of me to document what had happened to me. I’d be interested to see the pictures to see what I looked liked. I’m sure it wasn’t pretty. After about an hour or so I was released.

And as much fun as the afternoon was it got even better. I didn’t have anyone that I could call to come and pick me up because no one was going to be home. It was in an era with no cell phones. I still had my ATM card so I thought I’d find a machine get some money and take a cab home. The one ATM I found was out of order. To find this machine I’d wondered around the hospital and was in a very deserted area of the it. I was not going to go back because I wasn’t sure where to go. What I should have done was found someone to help me out.

All I wanted to do was get home. I was not exactly sure where I was. I didn’t have my glasses so I couldn’t see anything far away. I had a huge black eye and a bandaged wrapped around my head. But I still decided I would walk home. I got my barrings. I figured out where I was. In order to do that I had to get right under a street sign and look straight up at the sign to read it. Ouch. Big bump on head. Looking straight up. It hurt.

I was easily a mile or more away from my apartment. It was a really stupid thing to do. But at the time I think it was important to show I wasn’t going to be bowed but what these assholes did to me. It also was something to do; a task that was needed to be completed and took my mind off what had just happened. I knew that I could walk to a Safeway grocery store. I knew in there would be an ATM and I’d be able to get money and then get a cab. But as I got close to the store; I thought about the way I looked and decided I didn’t want to have any more possible with people. So I ended up walking the rest of the way home.

It took several months before the main guy was caught. I won’t go into the long story of the process to bring the guy to justice. The cliff notes version: Two detectives came to my house to talk about what happened. I went to a line-up, I met with the district attorney, I testified before a grand jury, I wrote a victim impact statement, I attended the sentencing and then went out for coffee with all the other victims of this guy. He was sentenced to 19 1/2 to 58 years in prison.

It’s interesting to think how this one event change my life. I had to sleep with the lights on for about a week. I propped a chair up against my apartment door each night. I could barely stand to walk past the place where I’d been attacked. I decided I had to move. In the next three weeks I saw at least one apartment a day. Sometimes it was two or three. I was lucky. I ended up in a very nice apartment in Foggy Bottom. But because of the circumstances of the move, it took me a very long time to appreciate the area. I even mentioned that in the victim impact statement I did. In fact, I didn’t realize I felt that way until I wrote the statement.

There are still some residual effects of the mugging. From time to time I still get nervous around groups of your African-American men. I try not to let it bother me but it still does. And it bothers me that this still bothers me. I’ve always tried to judge people on who they are not what they are.

The mugging forced me to move. Eventually the rent at my new apartment got so high, I decided to look for a house. I wonder, if the mugging had not occurred, if I would be in my house today. I think the answer to that is no. So it is strange how one very very bad event changed my life. And not all of those changes were bad.

And that’s what happened to me ten years ago today.