Violence – Part 6: Resolving to Hate

I immediately ran to his side crying, wanting to hug him but too afraid I might hurt him; wanting to look at him but too afraid of what more I might see.  He put one arm around me and said, “it’s okay Mi’ja,” as he called my sister to join us, “I’m going to be just fine.”

We cleaned him up best we could.  He took some aspirin and forced himself to take a shower while we cooked breakfast.  Valeria and I didn’t say much when we were alone, we didn’t really know what to say, but we both agreed that Dad needed to go to the hospital.  When he got out of the shower we tried our best to convince him to go to the hospital.  We thought he needed stitches and x-rays to make sure nothing was broken.  But he insisted that he was really tired and just wanted to get some rest. 

Cautiously my sister and I asked questions about what happened.  He didn’t reveal much, but we learned that he and his best friend went to a bar in Wisconsin to celebrate his birthday.  The bar they went to was in a town that he didn’t know was locally known to be racist.  My father and his friend are Mexican.  Right from the start the waiter and bouncer began to antagonize my dad.  They told him to leave because he was causing trouble.  Bewildered and insulted he asked why he had to leave, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.  The waiter knocked the stuff off of their table and the bouncer began threatening and pushing them.  The group of men then attacked my dad and his friend all the way to the car.  They were even able to get my dad back out of the car when he was trying to leave.  He knows they used a weapon on him but in the dark night he was unable to see what it was.  My dad’s friend was beaten so badly that he couldn’t drive, so my dad drove them both home using only one bloody eye.

My sister asked most of the questions because she was able to handle the situation better than I.  As I listened to the story, hatred consumed me.  Anybody who knows my dad knows that he is one of the most honest, sweet tempered, well mannered men you will ever meet.  He is humble and loving and giving.  I love him dearly, and to see him in so much pain caused me more pain that I knew how to handle.  I wanted to kill those men.  I decided that I would rather go to hell than to see those men go unpunished.  Hate filled my heart, and I gladly welcomed it, because I believed that was what was going to allow me to avenge my father.

My dad wanted everything to be over.  He didn’t want to go to the hospital, he didn’t want us to call the police.  He just wanted to go to sleep.  As he slept my sister and I called the cops.  A police officer arrived and we talked to him outside so that my dad wouldn’t hear us.  We told the officer the story of what happened.  He apologized and then said that there was nothing he could do – it happened out of his district.  he said that if my dad wanted to press charges he would have to go back to the police station over there and file a report.  The officer got in his car and left, we stood there feeling defeated and useless.  There was nothing we could do.

For weeks I fantasized about how I would kill those men.  I even fantasized about torturing them first, maybe even torturing their families.  I fantasized about going to court and admitting my guilt but blaming in on the cop who didn’t do anything to bring justice to my dad.  I fantasized about being proud of the violence I bestowed upon others.  I knew it was illogical to be thinking this way.  I knew my dad would be ashamed of me and I knew God would never forgive me, but I didn’t care.  I was filled with so much anger and hate that I didn’t care what happened to me – all I cared about was hurting those men and their families the way they hurt mine.

That happened eight years ago but I still feel the same feelings towards those men – not all the time, but every once in a while I can feel the devil’s hate consume me once more.  I don’t know what triggers the memory, and I don’t know what I would do if I ever ran into them.  Honestly, I try not to think about it.

Part 7: Love and Forgiveness