Warren's Story
Friday, 21 December 2007, 1500L: I walked into the gym, and waved "Hello" to Wayne and Warren, two friends manning the front desk. Wayne is a gregarious, grandfatherly retired fisherman. Warren is a bright young fellow whom dreams of joining the Air Force. I stopped. Warren’s left brow was bruised. There was a gash on the right side of his nose, and his upper right lip was split. Hurt seemed to pour from his large brown eyes.
"What happened?" I asked.
"My father beat me up" was the quick reply.
Warren went on for some thirty minutes, showing me the bruises and scars on his legs. On 19 December 2007, at 1915L, Warren’s father had burst into his son’s room and demanded more rent. When Warren agreed - you read that right - his father pummeled him. Warren seemed eager to tell anyone what had happened, and I don’t mean to brag when I say Warren admires my physical strength and boxing abilities. For this he trusts me?
He’s a good kid. He holds down two jobs, gets "A’s" and "B’s", and lives clean. His father is an under-employed control freak, to be polite, and has been violent before apparently. His mother is a sheltered, very traditional Korean-born woman. Warren’s parents met when his father was in the Army and stationed in Korea. Warren has five younger brothers and sisters. The youngest, a girl of 12, witnessed the latest assault.
Warren has born the brunt of his father’s animosity for as long as he can remember, and he’s concerned that his father seems to be refocusing his anger more on the next oldest sibling in line, a girl. Warren worries that when he leaves for the Air Force in a few months his sister will catch hell. Daddy needs a new punching bag?
I advised Warren to at least talk to the Police. The entire conversation made Wayne feel awkward I think. He’d already spent three hours with Warren that day, and (apparently) hadn’t noticed the walking wounded sitting beside him all that time. People are like that too often I think.
Saturday, 22 December 2007, 1200L: I have a punching bag too, but mine’s made by Everlast. After boxing class, Warren approached me, and asked if I’d accompany him to the Police Station. We loaded his bicycle into the bed of my pirate truck, and I drove him there, a bunker in the snow. I joked with Warren on the way into the station "You’re not wanted for murder or anything, right?"
The receptionist and then the Sergeant were courteous to Warren. No one commented on my presence. I mostly just made introductions, and then shut up. The Sergeant just listened to Warren at first, much as I had. The only time I interrupted was when Warren was asked "Why did you wait until now to report this?"
Warren was at a loss. "That would be my influence, Sergeant", I said. Everyone seemed to understand that Warren wanted me there. I was even invited to help Warren write his statement, and then gave Warren a ride home. He talked for almost an hour, sitting in my pirate truck, though the ride took but five minutes. I had Warren show me two places he could stay assuming his father will kick him out into the snow again. I expect to see Warren on the front desk at the gym Monday morning (they’ll close at noon for Christmas Eve - bedtime for me).
Comments, especially from alaria_lyon, are welcome as ever.
"What happened?" I asked.
"My father beat me up" was the quick reply.
Warren went on for some thirty minutes, showing me the bruises and scars on his legs. On 19 December 2007, at 1915L, Warren’s father had burst into his son’s room and demanded more rent. When Warren agreed - you read that right - his father pummeled him. Warren seemed eager to tell anyone what had happened, and I don’t mean to brag when I say Warren admires my physical strength and boxing abilities. For this he trusts me?
He’s a good kid. He holds down two jobs, gets "A’s" and "B’s", and lives clean. His father is an under-employed control freak, to be polite, and has been violent before apparently. His mother is a sheltered, very traditional Korean-born woman. Warren’s parents met when his father was in the Army and stationed in Korea. Warren has five younger brothers and sisters. The youngest, a girl of 12, witnessed the latest assault.
Warren has born the brunt of his father’s animosity for as long as he can remember, and he’s concerned that his father seems to be refocusing his anger more on the next oldest sibling in line, a girl. Warren worries that when he leaves for the Air Force in a few months his sister will catch hell. Daddy needs a new punching bag?
I advised Warren to at least talk to the Police. The entire conversation made Wayne feel awkward I think. He’d already spent three hours with Warren that day, and (apparently) hadn’t noticed the walking wounded sitting beside him all that time. People are like that too often I think.
Saturday, 22 December 2007, 1200L: I have a punching bag too, but mine’s made by Everlast. After boxing class, Warren approached me, and asked if I’d accompany him to the Police Station. We loaded his bicycle into the bed of my pirate truck, and I drove him there, a bunker in the snow. I joked with Warren on the way into the station "You’re not wanted for murder or anything, right?"
The receptionist and then the Sergeant were courteous to Warren. No one commented on my presence. I mostly just made introductions, and then shut up. The Sergeant just listened to Warren at first, much as I had. The only time I interrupted was when Warren was asked "Why did you wait until now to report this?"
Warren was at a loss. "That would be my influence, Sergeant", I said. Everyone seemed to understand that Warren wanted me there. I was even invited to help Warren write his statement, and then gave Warren a ride home. He talked for almost an hour, sitting in my pirate truck, though the ride took but five minutes. I had Warren show me two places he could stay assuming his father will kick him out into the snow again. I expect to see Warren on the front desk at the gym Monday morning (they’ll close at noon for Christmas Eve - bedtime for me).
Comments, especially from alaria_lyon, are welcome as ever.