“Mr. Johnson, could you please tell me and Lieutenant Smith what your night was like on January 7th, 2012?”
“Well you see officers, it went like this...
Its a cold Wednesday night at 11PM. I am freezing; in fact, it’s more than freezing, its 13 degrees. As I walk back to my house on the South side of Chicago, I try not to act like I am freaking out. I want to seem “chillin.” Doing that is a considerably hard task because I do not even know if my wife is home taking care of Maya and Leah. You see, the thing is that lately my girl and I have not been on the same page. It’s crazy that after all this time we can both just lose feelings for each other at the same time. The worst part about it is that she does not even care about our two little girls.
Finally I get off the El and its just 5 more minutes until I can see the two people that can always put a smile on my face. I never get a chance to see them in the morning because I have to be at my first job at 6 AM. I keep on thinking to myself if my babies are safe or not; will she even be home? Where I live one must know where to go and where not to go this late at night. The moment I have been waiting for all day is just seconds away but as I approach our porch I realize the door is open.
I step into the house and there is complete darkness. Some how I find a light switch. My house had been robbed and everything that I have worked for for the past 7 years has vanished. But that is not my main concern. Where are my children? I run into the bedroom and find my two little babies handcuffed to the heater. I start to break down into tears. Maya and Leah have bruises and scars everywhere. I try to wake them up but they are unconscious. Since I cannot afford the phone bill, I have to run down the street to a pay phone to report what had happened.
As I wait for the police and ambulance all I can do is sit by them and wash them off. I just cannot understand why someone would do this to me. I have lived a respectful and hard working life; what did I do to deserve any of this? My mother taught me that things are earned not given, and I earned everything that was once in my house.
The second big question I have is who. Who would do this to me and my family? I have a decent relationships with everyone on the block and I have never had any problems with my coworkers. The only person that has been disrespectful and violent towards me lately is Natasha, my “wife.” The past few months she has been coming home later than me drunk and all drugged up. I cannot think of anybody else that would do such a thing to me, besides just a random thug.”