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This was a first in my life. I guess I've been pretty well insulated from such things because I've read here on DU how many people are victimized every year but have never personally met anyone who has had to deal with this kind of thing. That changed last night and the reality of it, the tangible experience of meeting this person and hearing about what happened has changed me somehow. It's angered me in a way I have never known and can't describe. I want to do something to help this person but as you will see, the most logical option doesn't seem possible. Does anyone have alternative advice?
I met a large group of friends from my last place of employment at a local bar & restaurant last night. It was a celebratory affair since their company had issued profit sharing bonuses earlier that day. It was going to be an all out party. I was the last to arrive and everyone else already had their first round on the table or on the bar. There were two bartenders working and each took turns covering the tables in the bar area. One of them came over to drop off a couple drinks at our table and take my order. He very obviously had a very bad night recently as one of his eyes was blackened with a small mouse under it and the other was horribly swollen and black. His cheek had more than a dozen fresh stitches in it and was also black and swollen to the point of looking grotesque. The tip of his nose was scabbed over from an abrasion and his upper lip was swollen. I politely ordered a beer, tried not to stare and did not ask what happened. He seemed in good spirits and turned out to be one hell of a good bartender. He made sure there weren't any empty glasses in front of anyone for longer than a few seconds, remembered what all 15 people were drinking, never messed up an order and cracked jokes to keep everybody entertained.
After he went back to the bar, I asked everybody at the table if he mentioned how he got so messed up. He hadn't and nobody had asked. A few jokes were quietly made: somebody said something like, "I'm sure he'll say, 'You should see the other guy'". Somebody else said he looked like the loser of a first round qualifying fight for Ultimate Fighting Championship. I, however, was concerned. I noticed his hands. There were no bruises or marks on his knuckles indicative of a two-sided fight. The cut on his cheek was far too severe to be from just any old punch to the face. Somebody wailed on this kid, hard, with purpose.
As the evening rolled on and the place thinned out, the bartender spent more and more time hanging around our area and participating in our increasingly silly alcohol-fueled conversations, story tellings, and raunchy jokes. He obviously felt comfortable with our group and seemed to be genuinely enjoying the party.
So one of the women at our table finally says, "I hope I'm not out of line but I really want to know what happened to you". The look on his face changed a little. If you were paying attention, you could see a mix of pain, anger, and shame that lasted only for a second. He stated very matter of factly, "Oh, I was at ---- Pub the night before last with my roommate. Some asshole was giving us a hard time from the minute we walked in. We moved to the other end of the bar and he followed us getting more and more belligerent by the minute trying to set us off. I was trying to get the bartender's attention when the asshole who followed us told us we weren't welcome in "his bar". I snapped and finally told him if he had a problem with us being there, we should step outside and solve it. He agreed and pointed to the back door that opens into the alley. My roommate isn't exactly the fighting type and wanted to leave right then and there. I should have listened to him. Instead, I followed the guy out there and as soon as I walked out the door, somebody sucker punched me from behind. He had three of his buddies waiting in the alley and they beat the crap out of me. After I hit the ground, one of them curb stomped me and split my cheek open. When I woke up I was lying in the snow bank and was covered in piss. The motherfuckers dumped me in a snow bank and pissed all over me. They chased my roommate out the front door and two blocks down the street. They wouldn't let him come back to check on me or into the parking lot to get our car. I ended up walking a few blocks to meet him and we called a cab to take us to the hospital".
Everybody at our table went completely silent. The woman that asked him what happened started to cry. It all came together in my head. His moussed-up hairstyle, satin shirt, and jewelry were so atypical for this part of redneck Maine, his mannerisms, his "wink wink" references to the other bartender as his roommate, the sexually ambiguous stories & jokes he told during the night. It was suddenly obvious he was gay and walked into the wrong bar with his partner. This was a hate crime.
Somebody else asked him if he reported it to the cops. He said no. Aside from us, he hadn't told anybody (though the hospital pressed him hard for answers) and he was pretty sure one of the guys that jumped him WAS one of the local cops (this would not be surprising at all given what I know about the local gestapo and where some of them like to hang out when off duty). Based on his past experiences, he had no faith in cops and believed bringing them into the situation would only make things worse. "Besides", he said, "I knew what kind of bar it was when we went there. That's WHY we went there; because shit heads like that say we can't. I'm sick and fucking tired of them. I'm tired of having to stay out of their way. I'm tired of people like that putting me down while propping themselves up on some fake pedestal of righteousness. Don't tell him (pointing to his roommate at the other end of the bar), but when I heal up, I'm going back to settle the fucking score".
As an aside here, I walked into that bar when I first moved to the area six years ago and was completely ignored by the bartender for about ten minutes. When I finally called him over, he said I wasn't welcome and told me to leave. I did. Months later I learned from the locals that the crowd that hangins out there doesn't like anyone outside their little circle of ignorant rednecks and especially hates anyone who looks like "a fucking desk jockey, god-damned college kid, or any other kind of fag" as it was put to me. For six years I was content to just pretend the place didn't exist. Let them have their crappy little bar. Let them sit there and wallow in their own ignorance. At least that place keeps them out of the rest of society. But last night I felt compelled to give this young guy my business card and asked him to call me when he's ready to go back. I didn't even know his name at that point but felt the need to stand up with him in the face of these hate-filled pieces of shit. Four other guys from our group agreed to join us. I expect an interesting evening if I get that phone call from this guy. It's been many years since I've been in a fight but can hold my own against most. I know what he wants to do violates the law. I understand the consequences of helping him out. I also understand the position he's in and how he feels he must deal with it.
I would appreciate any advice anyone can offer in dealing with such a victim. I would prefer he go to the authorities but he is convinced they will not help him but target him in some way. It would be hard to make a case to convince him he's wrong. How do you convince someone who has been beaten to a pulp and pissed upon by scumbags that he has to treat them better than they have treated him?
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