SVENYPD Blue: (aka Stick em up punk, it’s the pun loving criminals)

They say that you are not a true New Yorker until you have been mugged. If so, then I well and truly earned my stripes on the evening of Tuesday, October 25 in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn.

Jessica has been living on St Marks Avenue for close to seven years now and has never had any trouble whatsoever in the neighbourhood. Lil Luce lived there for half a year and never had any trouble; in fact she was a nanny for two children on the same street for a period of time. It’s a beautiful neighbourhood,with a troubled past that is rapidly succumbing to gentrification as Manhattan space (a true oxymoron) rises beyond prices even a Sultan would consider premium.

So the odds of running into a convicted murderer out on bail, who had used a stun gun on a 57 year old Bangladeshi shop keep then beaten him to death for a cell phone and a few dollars, on this street, a mere 40 metres from Jessica’s apartment are more remote than Larry dedicating 5 minutes of thought to planning a surprise leaving bash for me at the end of my tenure.

I was making great time after having been issued with strict instructions to not be late this time. For some reason, I decided to take a different train to Brooklyn, the 4/5 instead of the 2/3 which docks closer to Jess’s house purely cos I felt like a walk up Flatbush Avenue. (Jim, never feels like walking at home…) I decide to further extend my boyfriend greatness by popping my head into Garry’s Liquor Store and pick up a cheeky little bottle of New Zealand Pinot Noir.

Exiting the store, I place my headphones on, press play on the Ipod and notice a young chap walking past who is staring directly at me, and it gives me an odd feeling in my stomach. A feeling akin to having just finished a second helping of Collegiate School battered luncheon on a Wednesday afternoon prior to a rugby match against City College. So I cross the street earlier than usual and let them pass, thinking no more of it, listening to the Kings of Leon, Slow Long, Slow Night reminiscing of my trip to Atlantic City with Guy.

I turn on to St Mark’s and notice a guy cut in front of me about 10 metres ahead. Three others are about 25 metres ahead. I am now fully aware of the wine bottle and the black plastic bag cutting into my fingers, and I grip it tightly and muse over the thought of me having to whack this guy in front of me if he tries anything. The thought of me doing that amuses me no end.

He stops.

He turns around.

He pulls a gun out of his jacket and points it to my chest.

“Give me your cash or I’ll f*cking shoot you”

“No problem. Which album do you want? Live at Folsom Prison? American Recordings? Both are excellent”

Instead of saying the above line, I am now freaking out, truly thinking I am going to get shot, so I thrust forth my bag and tell him that I don’t have any money. I see Jessica’s eyes rolling and explaining to my assailant, “Believe me, you’re wasting your time, he doesn’t carry cash”.

I am a clumsy oaf at the best of times and I think this is agitating the gun toter no end by fumbling through my bag, trying to demonstrate that I don’t have cash. He confirms my suspicions that he is frustrated by informing me

“This is taking to f*cking long, hurry up or I’m going to shoot you”

“You’re taking to f*cking long,.. it’s close to 7 and I need time to let this Pinot breath”

Instead of saying the above line, I watch him take my Ipod from my bag and then he demands that I empty the contents on to the ground and I’m begging for him not to shoot me, over and over again. He takes my credit cards and my passport. Then with gun in hand, searches my back pockets for cash. To my dismay he finds some and now I am truly fearful this is going to upset him.

The whole time I am aware of people walking past us on the street. It’s utterly surreal.

He turns and walks away. He just walks away casually. Turns again and throws my passport towards me onto the pavement.

He’s gone.

I’m scrambling for my things on the ground, so thankful I’m ok and I ask an elderly gentlemen who is walking past to stay with me for a while. He leads me to the police station just around the corner. I am shaking. The Halloween decorations of Frankenstein and Dracula life size dummies on the police steps do little to soothe my nerves.

After giving my description of the guy to the police, (6 foot, 16 – 18 years old, baseball cap, bomber jacket blah blah blah) there is general chaos over the airways as we hear that the Perp has been found.

Gunshots. Three or four of them.

A male and female police officer then instruct me to go with them in the car to identify the “Perp”. I’m running towards a police car with two officers in Brooklyn, New York feeling like I am in a movie.

Gunshots. Fifteen of them.

The female remarks “Should we be taking him with us?”

I don’t stop to hear the answer, I turn on my heels and run back into the police station.

About 1 minute later I find myself sitting in a car with four detectives, driving towards the shooting to identify a man who has been shot. I am petrified about seeing the three other gentlemen that were with my assailant. They all leave the car and I am sitting by myself, and notice one clown has left his window down. I’m feeling pretty secure with NY’s finest right about now….I’m also acutely aware that the time is 7.15pm and Jessica will be livid at home right now completely unaware that all this chaos is happening right outside her window.

There are about 25 police cars with red and blue neon illuminating the brownstone buildings in every possible direction. People standing outside on their stoops, hanging out of apartment windows, watching the drama unfold. It seems like every cop in Brooklyn has arrived at the scene.

I am led to the ambulance. This is quite a strange moment in time. I’ve never seen someone shot before. What if it isn’t him? Will I be able to recognize him? Does he deserve to be shot? How the hell do I feel?!

There he is on the stretcher. A policeman’s flashlight is scooting over his face and I instantly see the gunshot wound to the cheek. I tell the police that I’m pretty sure it’s the guy. I then ask to see his clothes and immediately recognize the hat and jacket, take another look at him and tell the police that it is him. They start screaming into their walkie talkies “Positive ID! Positive ID!”. I remember wanting to identify the gun, my Ipod just to be sure in my mind, but it never happened. I remember feeling instant remorse for a young boy who had just thrust a gun in my chest and threatened to kill me, now lying on stretcher with two bullet holes in him. He was still alive.

Thus begins a long saga of questioning back at the 77th Precinct from 8pm through until 11.30pm when I was moved to the 78th Precinct for more questioning until 3am. Jess came down to the station and we ate some pizza. She said to a police officer that she felt sorry for the mother which started an argument between the two in the first moments she was there. The gun was fake 9mm pellet gun we discovered. I told the same story over and over. Internal Affairs. Homicide. Detectives from both 78th and 77th Precincts. District Attorney’s. Interview after interview to the backdrop of the World Series match between Chicago and Houston. I found myself looking around, soaking it in, the accents, the smells, the b*llsh*t constantly issuing forth from these gung ho cops amazed at the fact I was here. That I was seemingly in a scene I have watched a hundred times on T.V.

We slept in late, had a nice breakfast and almost choked when we read the New York Times who had printed the story the next day. We painted Jess’s bedroom which was nice and cruisy. Then the story broke on the 6pm news. My reaction to being the second story after Hurricane Wilma on my beloved FOX was again utterly surreal. Almost as surreal as the moment Jess informed me there were reporters from the New York Post and the Daily News downstairs wishing to interview me. Our information had been leaked by the police. I also had reporters come to my house, my work leaving messages on my work phone.

So there you have it. I’ve left detail after detail out of this one but there were too many really. I’m Ipodless but looking at this guy's record, feel pretty lucky!

Check out these links if you wanna see the press. Even got Mayor Bloomberg talking about it at a press conference. "I think this is a perfect example of turnstile justice," Bloomberg said. "This is somebody who was facing a murder charge and a judge just put him back on the streets to threaten you and me and our Police Department and that's just unacceptable." Quite classic, the you part is me.

Love ya all

This NBC one has some video footage.

http://www.wnbc.com/news/5178403/detail.html

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/story/359344p-306150c.html

http://www.ny1.com/ny1/content/index.jsp?stid=1&aid=54510

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/10/26/nyregion/26shoot.html

http://www.nypost.com/news/regionalnews/30215.htm