“We’re staying the night, right?,” I asked. I didn’t know if there were any other options at that point, but just wanted it said to be sure. As strange as the idea of a protest seemed then, leaving sounded even more so. Jeremy and Sara nodded. I got us a blanket. There was a documentarian I knew from Lakewood filming the woman calling the police. “Well, I’ve been on hold for about ten minutes now with 911 and no one will talk to me,” she shook her head at the camera. “Yes, hello,” she said back into the phone, “yes Public Square, downtown... the main square in the middle of downtown. You can’t miss it. Hello? Yes, it’s a park...” Then looking up, “Oh god he’s back.” I turned my head quickly and saw the bleeding man walk back into the square. “What’s that in his hand?” “That’s a cement scraper,” Jeremy answered helpfully. His voice had lost the amused been-thereseen-that quality I was used to and came out deadpan. “Probably got it from the construction sight across the street.” It was a two foot long handle with a T shaped blade on top. With the older man gone, and no one in particular to focus on, he walked up to the first cluster of people he saw. He lunged at them swinging the cement scraper in a full arc in front of him, missing them by a foot or so. People backed away screaming, and he stepped forward for another swing. He missed again and people tried to turn and run but were getting cornered against the benches. They were all the way across the square from us. From where we stood all I could do was ready myself to witness something unthinkable. He was starting to swing one more time when the flashing lights and sirens filled the square. One police car and an ambulance pulled up. Seeing the cars, a resigned look came over his face and he stopped and dropped his weapon. People made way for the police and they walked up slowly. The man slumped his shoulders and let his head fall down on his chest as they put him in handcuffs. He looked docile as they walked him down
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to the ambulance, like he knew this was where it was all going. Red lights flashed on the trees and no one said anything as the ambulance and police pulled away. Jeremy, Sara, and I walked back to the blanket. Jeremy ate and then we all curled up together and fell asleep as best we could. The ground was hard, and the night had gotten cold. As I was trying to drift off a homeless man looked at me and shook his head with a sad half smile. The morning came bright and clear. The skyscrapers that loomed so dark over us during the night were almost a sparkling grey in the daylight. Mixing with the green trees in the square and a perfect blue sky above us, it was a beautiful day to wake up to. It was just a little cold still and I stayed curled under the blanket for awhile with Sara. Typical city morning bustle greeted us, car horns, construction sounds, people shouting across streets at each other. People in suits walked through the square without a second glance on their way to work. The woman who called the police the night before was standing at a table handing out coffee and bagels. I fought myself awake to get up for some breakfast. Sara sat up still wrapped in the blanket. “Coffee?” I asked. She nodded sleepily and smiled. Jeremy was already at the table talking to the documentarian. “Yeah, I seen crazy shit around here,” he said. “This is the same spot where I filmed that UFO last year, got the whole thing on camera.” “It’s true,” Jeremy told me, “I’ve seen it.” “Did you get much of what happened last night?” I asked. “I did, going to to put it on my public access show, just like I did with the UFO. I got most of it at least, didn’t get a lot of the violence. That’s ok, I don’t like to show too much of that kind of thing. I don’t think that’s what it was really all about anyway.” “Do you think I could watch what you have? I should probably write something about it at some point.”
:: THE NEW SCHEME ::
“Sure, of course.” He handed me the camera. “You don’t think the stabbing was a big part of the story though?” I asked looking into the viewfinder. I pressed play and saw a tiny black and white replay of bits and pieces of what I remembered. “Well, I just don’t want to distract from the over all message of what we were trying to do, from the protest itself. I want people to see it for what it was about.” “But that was part of it, don’t you think? What it was about...?” I trailed off. I had the overwhelming feeling that one or both of us was missing the point. It being his town not mine, I decided it was me who was missing it and let it drop. I brought coffee back to Sara and we shared the blanket while sipping. A homeless man stopped and shook our hands. “I just want to say thank you for being here last night. That’s all. We really appreciate it,” he said warmly. “Of course,” Sara said smiling. I smiled too and nodded. “Really,” he said, “it means a lot to us that you’re here.” We all smiled and nodded shyly a few more times until he walked away. It was hard to think of anything we’d done worth being thanked for, but as we packed up and headed for the bus I was glad he said it. Really, all we’d done was show up and watch events take their own course. Still, he thought we’d done something good at least. I looked out the window as we headed back to Lakewood and decided that would have to be good enough.
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