Imagine the horror…
You wake up, and look out your apartment doorway to see blood on the walls. You heard noises the night before, but for the sake of peace of mind, convinced yourself it was just a domestic argument, and tried to get some sleep.
Now you discover it was more than that. Through hallway gossip, you learn one of your neighbours was beaten, and could have been killed. And all he did was investigate last night’s commotion – the one you chose to ignore. And strangers attacked.
Imagine the horror…
You were at the local pub when a few patrons chided another patron, asking him to share the sausage he’d just picked up at a nearby hunters’ banquet. Then he left. Then they left.
While you were inside, they smashed his face outside, and almost killed him. For some sausages.
Usually, when there’s violence in our community, we’re comforted by the belief that if it’s not our fight, not our mess, we won’t be affected.
But that’s naïve. Recent incidents – the January attack outside a local bar and the most recent one told in this issue of the North Star – prove that when violence occurs, we’re all affected.
In a small community where we hope we can wander in the darkness, innocently approach strangers, and go about our daily business without fear, that fear increases every time random acts of violence occur.
Who in the local apartment building, or any apartment building, will stick their head into the hallway to see if anyone needs help now? Who will feel as comfortable walking downtown around last call?
These acts should result in stiff penalties, not just in the form of jail time and fines, but in community scorn for the perpetrators.
They should also provide a lesson to us all: ignore the plight of those who face mounting challenges and replace need with anger and substance abuse at your own risk, because the repercussions can impact each and every one of us.