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Mister Joe’s Yard
Northeast Baltimore, in the Third Year of the Reign of Fear


I was out back sweeping up the maple seeds. You know, those helicopter seeds we used to call them as kids are so cool until you own a house with a painted deck and a pool.

In the greenspace behind the house, where people cut through to the shopping center and that little arm of the parking lot for the apartments sticks out behind the dumpsters, there was one hell of a racket.

At first I thought it was a black man beating the shit out of a white woman. But it was a light-skinned black women he was smacking the shit out of. She was screaming to heaven, shrill as can be and you could hear the thuds of the body punches and the slaps and smacks to the head and face. The entire time she is running her mouth, screaming and trying to get away. All he ever said was, “Bitch!”

So I call 911 and the operator has me on the phone for almost 5 minutes, the entire time the beating continues. And I’m telling her I think he’s going to kill her and she needs to send some police. She wants to know—asks over and over—if he has a gun and I say, “I don’t know, hon, but I don’t think he needs a gun.”

I’m sitting out back looking at this shit for another 10 minutes at least. People are coming and going to the dumpster, parking and heading inside, the lady next door hanging her clothes, and no one even looks over there. But it was like a horror movie I’m tellin’ ya. She was screaming, he was whaling away. But every time he hit her, he had to let go with that hand and she seemed strong enough to twist away and run a little and’s he’d get her again. Eventually she gets in her car and he’s trying to drag her out through the window while she’s holding the steering wheel.

Still, no police.

I call 911.

Same dub bitch asking all the same questions like she never heard from me ten minutes ago.

She adds one more question, “Are you willing to testify?”

I said, “Are you kidding me, hon. I’m not as tough as that young girl—I’d be dead already.”

He whoops her ass for another 5 minutes and then the cops show up. This was a full half-hour beating. As soon as he hears the first car he stops hitting her and stands there. So they talk to them, the girl drives off and the cops leave, this guy just going on his way.

So, about an hour later my grandson comes through the back gate, “Hey, Pops, had a few beers at the bar.”

I said, “You need to use the bathroom?”

“Nah, Pops, I took a leak behind the dumpster.”

So I sit down and talk with him on the porch, tell him about the craziness and then the police helicopter is right over the house, and cops are pulling up everywhere, like ten cars and they’re handcuffing my grandson and dragging him away.

Someone complained about him pissing behind the dumpster and he got charged with a misdemeanor and three felonies including exposing himself to a minor.

He spent the weekend in jail, but the lawyer is pretty sure he can get the charges thrown out.

-Joe

Good Morning, Dindustan!: Urban Life at the End of Caucasian Time

https://www.amazon.com/Good-Morning-Dindustan-Urban-Caucasian/dp/1543035868/ref=sr_1_82?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511040145&sr=1-82&refinements=p_27%3AJames+LaFond

The Streets Have Eyes

https://www.amazon.com/Streets-Have-Eyes-Harm-City/dp/1502893851/ref=sr_1_147?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1511042540&sr=1-147&refinements=p_27%3AJames+LaFond

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BobJuly 9, 2018 1:24 AM UTC

Grave but not serious.