A Little Boy and A Night I Will Remember

When I was about 19 years old, I was living at home during the summer and working for my parents in their Subway stores.  I would work the day shift and then sometimes also the dinner rush that went until dark.  Being the manager, I also stayed if someone didn't show up for their shift.   Since the stores were in Denver and my house was a 45 minute drive to Evergreen, often I would stay in town and meet up with friends, or go to Randi and Kevin’s apartment and play with Brandon and Hannah before heading home.

On one night, after I finished my shift, I drove down the street to the 7-eleven--I can't remember why, probably to buy Razzels.   I parked my car—I believe it was my black convertible Fiat Spider-- one stall away from a couple of guys about my same age, or possibly a little older.  The guys were a little intimidating and were drinking.  However, I had grown up in Denver and the surrounding area and I knew if I minded my own business and didn't dawdle, I was mostly safe in public, even after dark. 

These two guys appeared to be just hanging around in the parking lot.  I went to get out of my car when one of the guys put his head inside his car window, a hatchback of some kind, and yelled at someone in the back.  When he withdrew his head from the window, I saw a little boy in the back of the car.  I couldn’t see him clearly because of the shadows and reflections of the parking lot lights but I would guess he was 7-9 years old.  I assumed it was a little brother of one of the guys and proceeded to get out of my car.  As I stepped out, the little boy said something and the guy bends his head back through the window into the car and yells again at the little boy.  I mean YELLS at full volume. 

I slide back into my car and lock the doors as I watch the unfolding drama.  I can tell it is escalating and the guys are between me and the store entrance.  There are no cell phones--this is the 80's. The only option I can think of is to watch it unfold.  

Next the nine year old kid says something, which from inside my car, I can't understand.  The only words I remember hearing are the 19 year old guy's response.  “I am going to pound you.”  Then, he proceeds to get into the front seat of the car, twist between the driver and passenger seats of the hatchback and start hitting this little kid.  Only the confined space of the car protects the 9 year old from the full force and wrath of this 19 yr old guy who continues to hit him.  The kid has no where to retreat because the guys body fills the front of the car and is only way out.  

I back up my car, write down the plate number and make of the car and drive to the Sheridan Subway store to call the cops.  They dispatched police car to the 7-eleven and the guys were gone. 


The policeman then came to the Subway store were I was now crying.  He said that the plate number I gave them didn't match the make of the car. As he tried console me with promises to get him if I saw the guys or car again, I just knew there was no protecting that little boy that night.  

My mind filled with images of a little wounded boy.  Was he hurt and bleeding?  Where was his mom? Who was going to protect that little boy from his big brother?  How could God sit back and allow someone to do this to a little boy?  

I had nightmares of that little boy, on and off for about 5 years.  Still, my most frequently reoccurring nightmare is of awful things happening to little kids whom I cannot defend.   To this day, I cannot hear stories about abuse without feeling an emotional weight, and remorse for not doing something that night for that little boy.  

Upon reflection over the course of the past 20+ years I have determined that I will not sit aside again.  If I witness child abuse, the 19yr old-or whomever is inflicting harm, will have to go through me before I allow a child to be hurt.  Even if it means offending the parent, or embarrassing myself in the process.  (Good thing I married an attorney to help get me out of trouble.)

When I share this with others, sometimes they quote the “millstone” scripture, trying to give me some comfort in God’s eternal justice. 


"But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.” (Matt. 18:6.)


I know it is not mine to judge, however I fear this scripture is not worded strongly enough to give me comfort in the early hours of the morning as I lie awake thinking of a child whom is defenseless to protect himself.