6 Tuesday, October 1,1996
OPINION
Pride
Crime hits home in a terrifying way
STAMPEDE
By Sonya Sparks Murdock
StaffWriter
If you think you're im
mune to crime, think again. That
mentality can allow crime to sneak
up on you literally "like a thief in
the night." Crime can happen to
anyone, anywhere, anytime. 1
know, because it happened to
me...twice.
My first encounter with
crime occurred hundreds of miles
south of Fayetteville in Atlanta. I
wasn't terribly surprised, given
that city's reputation for crime.
It was past 2 a.m. when
a noise in my apartment jarred me
out of a deep sleep on Jan. 4,
1994. Three hours earlier, 1 had
shut my bedroom door before
turning in for the night. Now that
door was open. I shuffled out of
bed to close the door, still half
asleep, and then I saw him: a dark,
shadowy figure lurking in the
doorway. I knew 1 must be dream
ing. When he pressed his index fin
ger against his mustached upper
lip, signaling me to "shhh," an
electric chill snapped me awake.
A primitive, guttural
scream erupted from deep within
me as 1 slammed the door in the
intruder's face before he could re
act. 1 lunged for the phone and
heard my roommate already whis
pering to a 911 operator. She
thought 1 was being raped or
stabbed based on the sound of me
wailing like a terrified animal. In
my haste to grab the phone and
call for help, 1 didn't even lock the
door. But he never attempted to
open it again, either.
My scream had awak
ened the neighbors in three nearby
apartments and transformed the
prowler into an Olympic sprinter.
The police never found him, not
did he take any belongings from
my apartment. But the memory of
that shadowy figure still preys on
my subconscious fears, and he did
steal my feelings of security.
When I moved to
Fayetteville, I assumed 1 was safe
from the crimes typical of big cit
ies. I found myself sinking back
into a comfortable sense of safety,
letting my guard down inch by
inch. That's when crime found me
again.
My guard was com
pletely town on Feb. 12, 1996.
Two teens wearing pantyhose
over their faces burst through the
doors of the bank where I was
working as a part-time teller. It
took more than a second for their
distorted facial features to regis
ter in my brain and less than a sec
ond for one of the robbers to leap
onto the counter brandishing a
shining silver revolver. He tow
ered over me as if he were ten feet
tall.
My knees buckled and 1
collapsed to the floor as I heard a
"pop!" that sounded like a child's
cap gun. When I saw one of the
tellers lying on the floor with ter
ror in her face crying, "Help me!
It hurts!" 1 realized she had been
shot. My body went numb. That's
when I began to believe that we
were all going to die.
Everything seemed to be
in slow motion as the giant
bounded down from the counter
in front of me and ransacked the
teller area looking for money.
Frustrated when he attempted to
open locked cash drawers, he
rammed the revolver in my face,
cursed, and demanded money. I
limply pointed to an open teller
window and begged him not to
shoot me.
An eerie silence suddenly
replaced the commotion. The
phone didn't ring and no one
moved for what seemed like min
utes. The bandits were gone and
we were still alive.
This time, the police
made arrests, thanks to a tip from
one of the robber's friends. He
collected more reward money than
the criminals took from the bank.
Both teens, as well as a third teen
who drove a getaway car, pleaded
guilty and waived their rights to a
trial. The wounded teller was
working at the bank again within
a month.
Once again, my sense of
security had been damaged. But I
look at crime differently now. Not
from a distance, like I used to, but
more personally. Crime is no
longer something that happens to
other people. It doesn't just hap
pen to careless people taking stu
pid chances. It happens to anyone.
It is random and opportunistic. It
happens not only in sprawling
metropolitan cities and their sur
rounding suburbs, but also in small
towns and rural areas.
Recently, another Meth
odist student encountered crime in
Fayetteville. It was a random
crime, and it was violent. On Aug.
23, John Lynch had just completed
his pizza delivery shift for the night
and stopped to fill up the truck at
The Pantry on Ramsey Street
about 11:30 p.m. The former
Marine's gut instincts told him
something didn't feel right.
When he went inside to
pay, he found a soldier on the floor
with blood gushing from his head.
Two teens, a white and a black
male, had attacked the soldier as
he stepped out of his car parked
on the dark side of the building.
They had bludgeoned him with a
board, grabbed his wallet and car
keys, and left him to crawl inside
the store for help.
Lynch attempted to care
for the man's wounds, which in
cluded a crushed jaw, gashes in his
forehead, and teeth broken into
fragments. In a helpless attempt
to defend himself, the soldier had
also sustained scraped knuckles
and cuts on his hands. His assail
ants ran away with only $11, leav
ing the car behind.
The brutal nature of this
random act appalled Lynch. He
said he felt the attackers intended
to inflict "a heinous amount of
damage" just to steal money from
4
M
ETHODIST
c
OLLEGE
Pride
Mike McDermott, Editor /
Whitney Larrimore, Assistant Editor
Alexandra Nulle Dummer, StaffWriter
Sonya Sparks Murdock, Staff Writer
Amanda Fellers, Staff Writer
Jamee Lynch, Director of Student Media
The Pride is the biweekly student newspaper of Methodist College. The ideas and opinions
expressed herein do not necessarily reflect the views and positions of the faculty and administration
of the college.
The Pride welcomes letters to the editor. All letters must be signed and must include the
author's address and phone number. Address any correspondence to the Director of Student Media,
5400 Ramsey Street, Fayetteville, NC, 28311, or the editor at campus box 12032. Questions or
information concerning stories should be directed to the Director of Student Media at 630-7292.
"a completely harmless guy."
Lynch noticed that many
people coming into the store ca
sually glanced at the wounded
man as if it were an everyday oc
currence. Others stood frozen and
gazed at the soldier as he lay
bleeding on the floor. Only one
woman, dressed in a formal gown,
stopped to offer first aid assis
tance, stating that she was CPR
certified.
Lynch admitted that it
was only later that he stopped to
consider the risks he had exposed
himself to by caring for the man
who was "leaking thick globs of
blood all over the floor, himself,
and me." He said that the risk of
HIV or some other communicable
disease were just afterthoughts.
He said that he thinks for most
people, it's just a natural instinct
to render assistance when some
one is in danger.
Do we have a responsi
bility to get involved? That wasn't
as easy for Lynch to respond to.
What bothered him was that
"people will realize too late" the
importance of being concerned
and that "they will already be vic
tims of crime by the time they de
cide to get involved."
So if you think crime
can't happen to you, maybe it's
time to get concerned. Or at least
pray that someone like John Lynch
is around if it does happen to you.
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^cME'«esOM6. PAOpevzs
Generation X:
We're not out-of-control slackers
By Whitney Larrimore
Assistant Editor
In the 1970's and even
mid 1960's, a new generation very
different from its predecessors
was born. At the time, it was un
known just how different this gen
eration would be. Naturally, to the
parents, they were mere children,
their little bundles of joy, and no
one could tell how the generation
as a whole would develop. Now,
however, it has been made clear
that the generation bom roughly
twenty years ago is one which
takes pride in setting itself apart
from all the rest.
Taking pride in setting
ourselves apart from everyone else
is probably one of our greatest at
tributes, but it is also probably one
of our greatest misfortunes. Be
cause this generation is so differ
ent from others and prides itself
in its difference, our predecessors
have frowned on us. We as a
group have been labeled unjustly
due to the actions of a few. We
have been deemed "generation
X:" the generation without hope.
We, they say, are the slackers,
hoodlums, and good-for-nothings
of America. Even worse, they
blame much of the nation's crime
problem on us, not to mention the
general malfunctioning of society.
The accusers of my gen
eration have forgotten a few vital
elements key to the validity of
their accusations. These key ele
ments are enough to embarrass
even the most stringent support
ers of the "anti-generation X coa
lition" formed by the elders of our
society. Had our elders been the
omniscient individuals they feel
they are, they probably would
have realized their fallacies and
saved themselves the trouble of
destroying the respect and trust
society holds toward our genera
tion. These fallacies have been
noticed by myself and by many of
my f)eersaswell. Simply the abil
ity to see the mistakes that our par
ents have made in their argument
against us exemplifies our intelli
gence and capabilities to function
logically; abilities that otherwise
lazy slackers should not be able
to exhibit.
The fact that many of us
have not been alive long enough
to actually have a lasting effect on
the functioning of society is one
fallacy. The laws and regulations
governing our nation were put
into effect long before many of us
were bom, and those of us who
were alive when they were passed
were children. Children cannot
influence the law, so we can't be
blamed for the legal malfunction
ing of society.
It's also been said before
that we are slackers because we
don't have the material posses
sions that people twice our age
have. This, to me, is an especially
weak argument for the classifica
tion of my generation as slackers.
How can a person compare some
one who is just starting out in life
to someone who has been estab
lished for twenty years and has
credit out their ears? It makes me
wonder just what kind of house
our elders lived in when they first
left home.
Besides this, they say we
have no respect for anything and
that we're out of control. I've al
ways been told that a child grows
up the way they've been raised.
If our generation is a sociological
loss, than it must be due to the
inability of our parents to teach us
properly.
I feel that our predeces
sors do realize their mistakes in
running the govemment efficiently
and raising our generation. They
simply don't want to take respon
sibility for their shortcomings dur
ing the prime of their societal in
fluence. It also seems that per
haps they are a little intimidated
by our competitive nature and "in
your face" expression. We have
been able to accomplish many
things they were never able to ac
complish, like getting college de
grees and becoming vivacious en
trepreneurs early in life. Further
more, more people than ever at
least try to attend some form of
educational institution beyond the
high school level. This was a sel
dom seen phenomenon with past
generations.
Our generation, it seems,
has been looked upon as the only
generation to ever bring about
change of any sort, whether it be
for the better or worse. However,
not too long ago there was a time
called the seventies when our par
ents were growing up and at the
stage in life many of us are at now.
During this time, John Travolta
was very "in" and disco was the
swingin' thing. The sixties, too,
was a time when "hippies" and
"flower children" ruled,
Woodstock, free love, and acid
was a way of life, and speaking
out against the injustices of the
govemment was a unique pastime.
The style seemed as odd as the era,
polyester everything and great big
'fros abounded, bell bottoms
dangled around ankles and giant
butterfly collars in the wind could
drift up to your nose. Platform
shoes could always give you a lift,
and prom suits came in a wide
spectrum of flashy colors.
To our parents the six
ties and seventies was a wonder
ful era, part of the best time of
their lives. Even as strange as they
were then, they still cannot accept
us for who we are now. To them,
our music is loud and violent, our
concept of fashion unsightly, and
general way of life corrupt. They
can hardly remember their lives a
few years back. They also have
little knowledge, it seems, that
they too were once ridiculed by
their parents for the same reasons
we are today. Also, they don't
seem to know that their parents
before them were ridiculed the
same way they were, and so were
their parents, our great-grandpar
ents. They were called "flappers"
in the twenties because they
dressed in big fancy outfits, dif
ferent for that time, and loved to
dance. Their music too was loud
and disrespectful, according to
their elders, yet they persisted and
helped bring the nation a little
closer to the future. Their com
mitment to change affected us
long after their influence in soci
ety ended.
Our generation, X, will
probably be seen in history the
same way as our great-grandpar
ents were. Yet for our predeces
sors to look down on us for our
differences is wrong. We, one day,
will take our rightful places in so
ciety just as our parents did. We
however, should take care not to
judge our children the way we
were judged.