By A.F. James MacArthur Ph.A.L., Managing Editor
Baltimore 911: Do you need police, fire or ambulance
Citizen MacArthur: Police please, there’s a fight in progress on the corner of xxxxxx and xxxxxx
Baltimore 911: Do you need police, fire or ambulance
Citizen MacArthur: POLICE! There are two people fighting here. They’re really going at it, right in the streets please send help
Female Combatant: TELL THEM IT’S DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, THIS ONE HERE IS A MAN! (referring to the much larger assailant with long hair, wearing a flowing skirt, and spaghetti strap halter top)
Androgynous Combatant: You best stop bitch, I’m gonna mess you up!
Baltimore 911: What location?
Citizen MacArthur: They’re in the street at the corner of xxxxxx and xxxxxx
Baltimore 911: Do you want to speak with the police when they get there?
Citizen MacArthur: Sure, I’ll stick around.
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The above is a nearly word for word paraphrase of a situation I literally walked into. Wednesday evening, while walking the dog, walking past an apartment building, I heard an intense argument from inside. First I ignored it, thinking it was just another crazy couple going at it. Then clear as day, and loud as heck, I heard ”I’m going to murder you!”
With a young man having just been shot about one block away, only this past Sunday, perhaps I should have gotten the heck out the area. But seriously, think about it, I’m a writer/reporter, and something big could be about to go down. Much like in my former career, I don’t run away from danger as most sane people would, I see it coming, and I get closer to get a better (camera) shot. I could have an exclusive. Just kidding.
Hearing those words though, my ears perked up like a Doberman Pinscher! Those are not the words of a “typical” domestic dispute, if there is such a thing. Words like that only come from the mouths of those with serious issues. Even in the heat of an argument, you just don’t say that sorta thing. Not in this murderous town.
A young lady from the small group of ladies sitting across the street ran over. She burst into the ground unit and begged and pleaded for the fighting to stop. Apparently she knew them. After some loud screaming, numerous swear words, and some banging and clanging, the fight suddenly spilled out onto the street.
The belligerents were going at it full force right in front of me. From closed fist punches to grappling holds and locks, this thing had gotten real ugly. With the dog freaking out and me now being a witness, to me there was no choice but to call the police.
Before I could call, another women yelled at me “MISTER, PLEASE DO SOMETHING!”
Perhaps it was my appearance that gave her the impression I was capable of assisting. With my cowboy looking (waterproof…it was raining) western hat, and my work boots resembling something one would wear while riding a horse, I must have seemed like some kinda bizarre, long haired, dreadlocked, urban John Wayne.
But really, what was I gonna do? Since this isn’t the wild west and I’m no longer able to carry my six shooter on my side, I drew my phone from the belt holster and called the Baltimore Police. What a day and age we live in. Glad no one pulled out a gun and started shooting or something. Kinda hard to defend yourself with a cell phone.
