My First Case

I sat with my back to the window in a black tuxedo and my hat tilted down, about an hour or so later I turned around to see the woman's red dress flowing in the wind as the door opened. Right behind her was her boyfriend. Her black high heels tapped rhythmically on the ground as she crossed the room taking a seat nearby. Her boyfriend sat beside her and was wearing a blue suit, blue shirt, blue tie and grey hat with a blue ribbon around it. They sat there like this talking for hours.

The woman sat cross legged, constantly taking a sip of her beverage with one hand while the other was interlocked with her boyfriend's. At first glance this seems like nothing was wrong but while I was sitting there watching, I could see him start to squeeze her hand and watched as his other hand would periodically disappeared under the bar table under the woman's dress. The bartender's eyes filled with rage then glanced to me with fiery in his eyes, a silent threat. The bartender knew that I am a FBI agent trying to prove myself. I could see the beads of sweat forming on the bartender's brow. He seemed panicked about our arrangement. Unsure if I was going to act or if he had to jump in.

I promised to get this vermin away from the poor woman. As my mom taught me that no woman should be treated this way. Being raised by a single mother in this era made no one understand why I had the opinion I have on matters like these.

I looked around and there was no one in sight other than the four of us. All the shops around were closed for the night. I stood up getting ready to make my arrest, when the man looked at me and walked into the bathroom. So many thoughts are going through my mind, should I go after him, is he on to me. The only thing I know for sure is this was my responsibly to save this woman from an abuser. I look at the bartender, paranoid that my plan would not work. I stood up and spoke with as much confidence that I could use and said "Take yourself and the woman outside."

I then moved the chairs into a barricade formed around them, for some extra cover. The counter was not that clean, and I did not want to get my suit dirty. I crouched behind the bar counter with some napkins on the floor and reached for the firearm holstered on my hip. I waited five minutes before deciding to stand up and check on the guy. No normal person stays into the bathroom for that long. Either he ran away or something is going on with him. As I entered the bathroom he stood there with broken glass all around him. Blood splattered the mirror. He was hunched over, shaking. With rage or sadness, I could not tell. My curiosity took over, and I felt myself walking towards him despite the hatred that pulsed through my veins.

I go up to him and tap him on the shoulder three times. He turned around cackling with glee, a grin split across his face. His hands were dripping blood.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

No reply.

"I'm gonna bring you out of the bathroom. Are you okay with that?"

Still no reply.

I took out my gun, trying to be more intimidating.

"You better get up or else."

I shouted as he vacantly stared at me. I suddenly realized that he was suffering, and pocketed my gun. He sat perfectly still with the same grin not saying anything.

I have no experience on arresting but I think it is better to know your suspect before assuming what kind of guy he is. I have evidence but for most cases something early in their life changed them. He seemed completely normal before going into the bathroom, and his girlfriend had only ever mentioned the abuse. I calmed myself and tried again.

"Hello sir, are you okay?"

He looks up at me and just stares.

"Did you maybe have a bad childhood? Or not many friends?"

He finally replies with "I had a bumpy childhood life."

I think to myself, "What does he mean by bumpy? Was there someone who did this to him maybe?"

I felt a little threatened by how he was acting perfectly unusual. So, I once again grabbed my gun from the hoaster. Instead of pointing it towards the guy I sat down on the ground and put the gun in front of me. The guy acknowledges me not having easy access to a gun. He finally looks me in the eyes. His eyes were red with tears. I knew I should have told someone about my plan for making an arrest but I am a rookie and wanted to prove myself. This look on his face only made me feel helpless. I need to make this right for the woman by making him serve justice but he also looks like someone who went through a lot. I looked down at my gun sitting in front of me.

The guy must have saw me being confused because without saying anything he pulls a black gun from his back pocket pointing at me. He yells at me.

"You can't help me, just like everyone else you are using me for your own gain!"

I respond in a calm voice.

"I'm doing this to help your girlfriend finally be free of your abuse. I am also trying to help bring justice to this place of unfairness."

He pauses, looking at me and starts randomly shooting in my direction, one bullet piercing through my right leg. The sound of the bullet shots ring through my ears. I feel a cold numbness come over me, then a flash of red-hot pain hits me like a bus. The pain was so overpowering, I thought I instantly fell to the floor.

He tried to get up and run away, knowing how much pain I'd be in but I powered through the pain and tackled him to the ground. The pain was so fierce I feared I would vomit on the spot. The only upside was that since he had shot me, I finally had proof of his wrong doing and could arrest him. Without needing to bring the bartender as a witness.

I stand him up and quickly say "You have the right to remain silent."

He once again doesn't respond, except for the small smile that appears on his face. He doesn't resist the arrest.

Walking outside I see the bartender and yell.

"I got the guy you are safe to come out, thank you for all the help."

Then I take him to the back of my car. Phoning the main office that I caught an abuser.