Tuesday, March 4, 2008

The True Story of My Life #8 (Hostage Situation Pt. III)

After I told our gunman that we would all pray for him, I looked over at Monica and Shirina. Monica was nodding and Shirina glared at me like I was out of my mind. I don't know remember where the gun was but it was probably next to him. We put our hands on him and prayed for him, for his family, and for his other relationships.

He said thank you and said he was going to take off his face mask. I felt a little concerned about that because if he changed his mind, and we'd seen his face, then what? He kills us? So I said quickly, "Oh, that's okay, you can leave it on." I guess it was good for identification but I just wanted to think ahead and live. "No, no, I'll take it off." So he took off his face mask. He had tawny hair and I can hardly remember what his face looked like now, it's been over 10 years. I think his eyes were blue. He also took off the latex gloves he was wearing.

He still had us at gunpoint though and took us into the livingroom to look at some photos of us. He set aside ones he liked, many of me. Eventually, he just set the gun down and stuck the knife in the doorframe. He said he wanted to make the beds he'd messed up, and clean up things he'd thrown around, and he said he was sorry. He was chatting in a friendly way and Monica was chatting right along with him. They were cleaning things up in the bedroom and Shirina and I were in the kitchen, opposite sides, leaning against opposite counters, looking at eachother without saying a word, like, "What do we do next?" When all of a sudden we heard this loud POP! and we both jumped and panicked for seconds, freezing when we heard Monica giggle and say, "Haha! Did I scare you?" Monica was so relaxed so had thrown a popper firecracker at the floor behind the gunman-turned-friend. We waited seconds for his response and he just laughed back. Shirina and I looked at eachother with bugged out eyes, incredulous that Monica had thrown a firecracker at this guy.

We couldn't just run out the door and leave Monica behind. We were all there together. So I was hoping to eventually get him to leave of his own accord. By pretending to be his best new friend.

He said he wanted to fix our stove later, and a bunch of other things. He looked at photos of me, and set aside ones he liked, touching them with his bare fingers. I announced I was going to have orange juice and did anyone want breakfast? Everyone said no thanks to breakfast. But the gunman wanted orange juice and I gave it to him in a glass. He touched the glass and later detectives got prints off both the glass and the photos. I wish I could say I had done this purposefully, that I was thinking about getting prints, but it just worked out that way. I was only focused on putting on the calm and collected show until he left.

After over 4 hours, after an end had come to the "I don't know what to do; I have to finish the job" talk, he said he had to go and would come back to fix the stove and go to church with us later.

He left out the same door he kicked in, waving as he walked away. I waved back. The other roommates stayed back. He took his gun with him. We were waiting until he was out of sight to run to the car and leave but then, at the end of our driveway, he turned around. "He's coming back," I said, and Monica and Shirina started to panic. I said, "Don't worry, I'll get it." He knocked on the door and I pretended I hadn't been watching him leave and acted surprised. "Oh, HI! What's going on?" He looked at me, watching my face. He said, "I left my knife". I said, "Oh, okay, just a minute, I'll go get it for you," and he waited at the door while I went into the bedroom and tried to pull it out of the doorframe. It was stuck. Tight. The knife was deeply embedded in the wood, with the handle sticking outright. I went back to the door, trying to be calm and said nonchalantly, "I tried to pull it out but it's stuck; you'll have to come get it." He still had a gun on him and I think I was thinking that I wanted him to feel I was helping him make a good escape like it had all been no big deal.

He went back to the bedroom and I was standing beside him. He put his hand on the knife handle and I remember thinking he could pull it out and turn around and stab me. I was afraid but didn't let it show and just stood ready to defend myself if needed. He pulled the knife out and I said, "Oh good, you got it! I sure tried, and it just wouldn't come out." He took the knife and then said goodbye to everyone again and left for good. I watched him disappear around the corner. We waited a few minutes to be sure he was gone and then we all got into the car and I drove to our pastor's house.

People have asked why we didn't call police. For one thing, I didn't want to be on the phone if he decided to come back again. We just wanted to get out of there. Secondly, we were all in such a state of shock and survival, and the first person we thought of going to was our pastor, and then once there, we called police.

We actually wondered if we were supposed to just forgive him or if we still needed to call police. We weren't thinking very clearly. I know Shirina always knew the severity of the situation, and I did but pretended otherwise, but Monica had almost bought the whole thing as much as the gunman.

When the police and detectives came out they said it was like a "reverse Stockholm Syndrome". They told us not to tell reporters or the media and not to talk about it. They asked us if any of us had seen him before and we hadn't. We all said no. They put yellow tape around the house and started dusting for prints and took the clothes he'd made us dress up in, me all in white "like you're going to a wedding" he said, and Monica all in black, "like you're going to a funeral" he said, and the detectives hung it up and photographed it. They asked us questions and at some point I went to the house across the street, and told my neighbor what had happened. When I described him and the name he'd given us, she exclaimed, "Oh my God. That's our lawnmower man." She then went downtown and on her way to the store, saw him walking towards a grocery and she called police. Police caught him and picked him up about 1 hour from the time he left my house. He still had money in his pockets, underwear and pantyhose, duct tape, and socks. It was ours. He had given back our ID and keys, but not these other things. I still remember seeing him from the police car and the officer asking us if that was the guy. It was.

The woman neighbor who found him walking towards the grocery gave me her lucky 4 leaf clover after that and her family moved out of the neighborhood. I didn't know then that I would need more than a 4 leaf clover for what lay ahead. I can honestly say this hostage situation is one of the more dramatic, but least damaging things that has ever happened to me. Partly, it's because I could recognize this was a somewhat random act, and it was done by a total stranger. It was logical and rational to believe something like that wouldn't happen again.

I was worried maybe there was a gang involved and they knew where I lived, because of the way he was talking when at our house. Later, the police claimed it was only him and he acted alone and since I wanted to believe it, I did. I stayed at my house and didn't get a dog or a gun. I did get a more secure door and a screen door that couldn't be broken down. And I know we were all jumpy for at least a week, at any and every small noise, and we all slept in the same room for a week.

For me, I got over it pretty fast because the panic went away quickly for me, and I could rationalize the situation and believed the threat was gone and it was 1 in a million to happen again. I also felt God protected us, and me. I do know that Shirinia and Monica didn't feel comfortable living there after that and they requested victim's assistance and looked into counseling. I didn't, and I have never, to this day, felt I needed counseling for that situation. I accepted it, processed it, forgave the offender, and moved on.

It is far worse when people you know, and love, and think you can trust, violate that trust and attempt to destroy everything about you in their quest for justification.

The gunman received 11 years for his crimes. He was charged with 3 counts each of burglary, break and entry, and kidnapping (in the ? degree?). The plea bargain was that he didn't go to trial and took 11 years in exchange for dropping the kidnapping charges. No one, no prosecuting attorney, asked us if that was okay with us. They just did it. We were pretty much out of the loop. We each met with the Prosecuting Attorney, and gave details, but that was it. They said they felt, after they told us about the plea deal, that it would have been worse for us and more traumatic to go through a trial. We were pretty much okay with it, but I did feel the kidnapping was the most significant thing that happened. Maybe he needed another chance though. He had a wife and kids. I considered visiting him in jail, and taking him a Bible, but was strongly advised against it. I didn't know why exactly until I got copies of the police report.

The police report included details of the interrogation of the gunman, and they asked him if he had had a special "attraction" for me, Cameo. He said yes. When they told him he was going to jail for a long time for what he did, he responded with, "What would have happened if I had fucked the bitch?"

I remember reading this and swallowing and shutting the report suddenly, like trying to shut it out. I didn't go back to that report for over 6 years. The Prosecuting Attorney said that based on the evidence, they should have tried him under attempted rape or some kind of sexual thing, and that if they had, they could have added some years.

I knew I would need to change my address in the future, but I didn't believe the incident would affect my future. I was proud of myself for how I handled myself, and how my roommates handled themselves. Not one of us became hysterical, or screamed, or cried. We were shaking, but we were all brave and we stood by eachother. You never know what strength you have or how you will handle a dangerous or traumatic situation until it happens, and then sometimes you're shocked and proud of your response and other times, you feel guilt and shame, even though you shouldn't. In this situation, I was proud of myself. In the next situation that happened to me, I felt guilt and shame and thought I'd done something wrong. But I did what I felt I had to do to survive, and there is no right or wrong to that.

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