Anne: Meet the Thug that Beat You Up. Thug, Meet Anne.

There are no funny pictures to put with this post, because what happened was not funny. See my post "Payback is a Blonde Bitch Junior" for the first part of this story.

So, I got to meet the little "thug" who decided to beat me up for no other reason then an act of violence and intimidation. He wasn't able to rob me, because I had nothing of value on my person. So instead, he just beat me up and I got lucky, considering he had a gun, a pistol of some kind to be precise. I guess he thought that made him some tough gangsta.

"He" is whom I will refer to as Shorty 14, since he was barely taller than myself, and 14 years old.

I met the officer who helped me at the police station along with the young man's Aunt (and only legal guardian) and she and I had a discussion about what had happened and she thanked me for not pressing assault with a deadly weapon charges against her nephew. "I couldn't blame you if you had. Lord knows the same shit woulda happened to me, I would have," she said shaking her head in shame over her nephew.

"I just want him to say he is sorry for what he did and mean it" I quietly said, holding back any emotion from her.

Next, the officer led the Shorty 14 into the room and he flopped down in the chair, not wanting to look at me. His Aunt left the room and waited outside. The officer stood in the back of the room, just observing "in case".

"Hi" I said to the young man. He was obviously not interested in speaking to me at all and was put-off by the whole fact that he was forced to meet me. He had little respect for anything. He sat slouched in his chair, snapping his chewing gum with his sideways hat, saggy pants and colors on (colors are gang specific colors - his being red).

"I would say it was nice to see you again, but you probably don't remember me" I said in a more firm tone. I could feel the anger and resentment boiling up inside of me.

'I know you. I see you. And ain't nobody in here give a shit about what you got to say. You ain't nothing to me.' Shorty 14 was clearly agitated.

"I know I'm not anything to you. You proved that over a month ago when you beat the shit out of me for no good reason other than some street cred."

Shorty 14 laughed. 'Shit, what you know about street cred?'

"I know a lot about it. I've been in some schools around students your age to know what it means. And I know that it was the only reason you beat me up. To look good. To look like some hard ass in front of your friends." My tone was clearly nasty by now. I began to cry.

Shorty 14 looked at me, in disbelief.

"WHY? Why did you do that?" I said to him.

'Man, I don't know. I ain't be trying to hear this mess. I want to go. Can I go now?'

The officer told Shorty 14 that he knew why he was here and what he had to do. "You can either say what needs to be said, or this lady can press charges against you and you are going to be locked up in juvenile hall and have more community service and your Auntie will have to pay damages. Is that what you want?"

'No.' Shorty 14 snapped back at the officer.

"Look, I didn't come here to belittle you, although I know that's what you are thinking. I just wanted for you to have to meet the person who you terrorized that night. I wanted you to know my name. And by the way, my name is Anne. All I wanted to do that night was go see my friend. And you took that from me. I can't walk down the street now without looking over my shoulder, wondering if some thug like yourself is going to come after me. Thanks for that."

'Welcome to my life. I do that every day. I have to. You don't.' Shorty 14 was looking dead at me, angry.

"I am sorry you have to live like that. But if you keep up at the rate you are going, your Aunt is going to burying you way too young. And from what I gather, you are all she's got. Why would you want to hurt her like that? The thing is, there is always going to be someone a bit tougher than you and you just might pick the wrong person one night and end up in jail or dead. It's not worth it."

'Shit man, this is crazy. I ain't tryin' to hear this mess.' Shorty 14 slouched in his chair.

Next I produced a picture from my jacket pocket.
"You see this kid?" Shorty looked over and nodded.

"He was a lot like yourself. Only he was in a much, much worse neighborhood than yours. He lived up in North County and looked over his shoulder all the time. Yeah, he was in a gang, but then when he got shot 3 times one night, he realized none of his friends gave a damn about him. He was just some dude, bleeding out on the sidewalk. All he had was his Grandma. And he was responsible for helping to take care of her. He was in the hospital for several months and not ONE of his "friends" came to see him. When he went home, they didn't talk to him either. He was nothing to them. But he meant the world to ONE person. His Grandma. So, you know what he did after he felt what it was like to be dead?"

"No," Shorty said, listening to me but clearly not wanting to do so.

"He started to LIVE and do right by her. He went to school. He got involved in athletics and tried to get good grades, he wasn't a straight A student, but he did his best. Because at the end of the day, he wanted something for himself. He knew he couldn't keep hustling or he would be dead. "

Then the door to the room opened and a man stepped inside. He was dressed nice and sat down. He nodded to me. "Hi" he said to Shorty 14.

'Hey.' Shorty responded. Then there was a short period of silence and glances back and forth.
'Is that you?' he asked. The man nodded. 'How do you know her?'

"She was a student teacher at the school I went to. She brought me my homework so I wouldn't flunk out. She helped me with some of it and made sure it got turned in for me. She came to a couple of the games and she helped me find a part-time job. And when I got to graduation time, she told me that she would help me get into college and get something for myself. She didn't have to do any of that, man."

"And you know what?"

'What?' Shorty said.

"She kept her word. I went to the community college and then a university and I got my degree. She helped me figure out financial aide and all that so I could go. I made something of me. And those dudes I used to hang out with back in the day? They all living on the check and some of them I had to go to funerals for. I see you. I know who you are. You used to be me. And your Auntie doesn't want that for you. Like my Grandma didn't want that for me. I know how it is. I ain't had nobody either but me. But, we all got to talking and there is a program that you could get into and get on with your life and go to a better school and make something of you. And like Anne promised me, I'm going to promise you, I will help you. But, you got to make the effort to want it."

"I'll be watching out for you if you want me to" my friend said.

Shorty shifted nervously in his seat. 'I don't know. I got to think about it.'

"Okay," my friend said and he handed him his card. "You think about it and when you are ready, you call me. Your Auntie says you got a cell phone and can call, but you got to want this. And when you do, I'll help you out. Cause I'll tell you what man, the alternative, is getting more of nothing."

My friend left and I hugged him good-bye.

I sat back down, looking at Shorty 14. He stared at me.

"Well, I got to go" I said to him.

I got up to leave and grabbed my things.

'Hey,' Shorty said.

"What?"

'Sorry...'

"Okay. Thanks. I mean that."

And with that, I left. I don't know if Shorty 14 will seriously consider getting help to get out of his situation, but it is there. He is just some lost kid on the streets and his situation was not his fault. At least I know I tried to make it right and not keep the cycle of hate and violence going. One step can make all the difference. I hope that step helps Shorty 14.

Best,

Anne