2008 Woodie Awards
My View: Time for society to stop looking the other way
By: Nichlaus Hulsebus
Issue date: 3/3/05 Section: Opinion
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Everyone was peeking from behind the apartment mini-blinds as the woman in the street cried for help; I guess it was not their problem, they didn't know her anyway.
I ran out of my house with a baseball bat like some character from a Scorcese movie.
My blood was pumping fast and my legs felt hollow and filled with helium; I remember thinking why am I doing this?
Stumbling down the street toward me was a woman carrying a pit bull that could have been alive or dead.
"Help me! Please help me!" the woman pleaded. Her face was wet from the rain and tears.
"My husband said he was gonna kill me, he said he would kill us both," she said.
By both, I figured she meant her and the dog, which solved the question of whether it was dead or not.
Before I could get to her to calm down enough to utter more than a few broken sentences, she shrieked
"There he is, hide me; he's drunk, oh god why is he doing this?"
Coming down the street was a grey pickup truck moving slowly.
I opened the door to my apartment.
"Come inside," I said.
I called 911 and was trying to explain what was happening when the operator asked to speak with the woman.
She told the operator that she and her husband of 14 years had been drinking at a bar when they got into a fight and he started to become violent.
She ran out of the bar and got the dog from the truck. Her husband said that if she did not come back he would kill her. She ran while carrying the dog; it was too old to keep up with her.
The operator advised her to stay with me until the police arrived.
Hanging up the phone, she thanked me for helping her.
"It's hard to find people who'll help anymore," she said.
Her name was Georgina.
The police came and took her to a shelter for the night.
After they left I remember thinking, where was everyone?
How can people look the other way when someone is in trouble?
I ran out of my house with a baseball bat like some character from a Scorcese movie.
My blood was pumping fast and my legs felt hollow and filled with helium; I remember thinking why am I doing this?
Stumbling down the street toward me was a woman carrying a pit bull that could have been alive or dead.
"Help me! Please help me!" the woman pleaded. Her face was wet from the rain and tears.
"My husband said he was gonna kill me, he said he would kill us both," she said.
By both, I figured she meant her and the dog, which solved the question of whether it was dead or not.
Before I could get to her to calm down enough to utter more than a few broken sentences, she shrieked
"There he is, hide me; he's drunk, oh god why is he doing this?"
Coming down the street was a grey pickup truck moving slowly.
I opened the door to my apartment.
"Come inside," I said.
I called 911 and was trying to explain what was happening when the operator asked to speak with the woman.
She told the operator that she and her husband of 14 years had been drinking at a bar when they got into a fight and he started to become violent.
She ran out of the bar and got the dog from the truck. Her husband said that if she did not come back he would kill her. She ran while carrying the dog; it was too old to keep up with her.
The operator advised her to stay with me until the police arrived.
Hanging up the phone, she thanked me for helping her.
"It's hard to find people who'll help anymore," she said.
Her name was Georgina.
The police came and took her to a shelter for the night.
After they left I remember thinking, where was everyone?
How can people look the other way when someone is in trouble?