my charmed life
In March of 2012, I was robbed at gunpoint.
I was at a club just across the river in Illinois. I had driven separately from my friends because I hadn’t planned on drinking and I knew I’d get tired and want to leave earlier than everyone else. The clubs in Illinois are depressing as hell cos they’re open 24 hours and consist of nothing but desperate folks trying to get laid. Plus, beers are like six bucks and lol at that mess. They get HUGE crowds though because that’s where everyone in St. Louis goes if they still want to ~party~ once all of the bars here close. Thinking back, this was a club I went to on my 21st birthday, and it was the first (but certainly not the last) time I had ever made out with some random man in the middle of the bar. Oh, sweet memories.
BUT I DIGRESS
The night that I was robbed, I had decided to leave earlier than the rest of my friends. I didn’t even think about asking anyone to walk me to my car because the parking lot is super crowded, really well lit, and there are loads of security guards wandering around. I open my car door, get about halfway in, and before I even realize what’s happening, this guy shoves me the rest of the way in my car, slams the barrel of a gun on my cheek and tells me to give him my purse. Before I could process what was happening, he just grabbed my purse and ran away. I immediately got out of my car and started screaming as loud as I could that I had just been robbed, hoping someone could chase the dude down. After that i just sort of crumbled to the ground where I remained sobbing hysterically for about 20 minutes.
The security guards who drive a truck managed to get wind of this in time to chase his vehicle off the property and get the license plate number. They couldn’t apprehend him though, cos once you’re off the club’s property, the security guards can’t do shit.
It turned out that about 30 seconds before he robbed me, he did the exact same thing to another woman. I wonder if he had been running to his car and I just happened to be conveniently in his way.
A police officer came, took my report and a few pictures of my bloody gross face (he shoved the gun in my cheek so hard that it actually made a bloody indentation of the gun barrel), and left. The security guards went into the club and found my friends, I cried into their shoulders for a few minutes, and then went home.
About an hour after this happened, my robber tried to use my ATM card at an ATM machine at one of my bank branches. I don’t think he’s very bright. The camera at the ATM got some lovely footage of his face. After that failure, he attempted to use my card at two different gas stations, but by then, I had already deactivated it.
A few days later, I received a call from a detective. Based on all of the information he received from the case, he figured out who the robber was. He came to my work, had me look at pictures of a bunch of dudes, and I made a positive ID on the robber. He got a warrant.
A week later, the dude was found passed out in a gas station bathroom in OKLAHOMA, high on oxycodone. I guess he was on the run. The detective from Illinois drove all the way down to Oklahoma, picked him up, and brought him back. He’s remained in jail there ever since. Since armed robbery is so absurdly common, I was told that it’d be likely that this thing would never go to court and he’d take a plea bargain.
Fast forward to now. The guy refuses to plead guilty even though the amount of evidence is absolutely overwhelming. A few days ago I received a subpoena to appear in court as a witness. This is real shit, like there’s gonna be a jury and a judge and the whole deal. I guess I should be thankful that I’ll be able to tell this story, but I’m mostly just sad that I have to see this dude’s face in a courtroom and relive that awful, shitty memory.
i can’t wait until the days when we’re all old and the stereotype is that old people like rap and dubstep