Philadelphia, PA. 22nd street and pine, September 1998. A gun is pointed in my face. I was parking my car for my first appointment with Dr. Herskowitz, DO, a psychiatrist, the last student personally trained by Wilhelm Reich before his death.
It happened like this: as I am opening my door to get out of my car, a 1990 Chevrolet Corsica with North Carolina plates, a large Afro-American man approaches me an asks if I am a "narc." I say no and forget about it.
I go back into my car to gather a few more belongings, and the car door is still ajar. Moments later, the same man points a gun to my face through the crack fo the car door.
He has my complete undivided attention. He tells me this is a gun and unless I do exactly as he tells me he will kill me. He tells me to leave the car, and with gun still pointed, gets in the car and forces me to get in the car as well.
His eyes are glazed as if he is high, and he starts demanding personal information. The gun is still pointed so I am not at liberty to resist. He paws through my wallet. He then asks me to take him to an ATM. I didn't know my way around Philadelphia because I moved to the area just a few months ago. We ended up in South Philadelphia where I pulled cash out of an ATM.
Next we ended up at a jewelry store, with gun hidden under his jacket we walked into a jewelry store. I attempted to charge a $2000 gold necklace charge on my AMEX and it was declined. I kept trying to hint to the employee I was in danger at the same time while not jeopardizing myself.
He got increasingly upset and we returned to the car where things escalated. Next we went to modell's sporting goods store, next door. He was belligerent to the staff and started grabbing shirts and shoes which he piled on for me to buy. He whispered that he will shoot me if I try to run away. So I am in line, charging the purchases of the clothing, and with shaky hand I try to signal to the staff that I am in danger but they do not notice.
As we are walking towards the exit, I feel increasingly alarmed that unless I get out of this situation immediately, I could be the next homicide story. As we walk through the exit gates, with the bag in his hand, the alarm goes off...apparently staff forgot to remove the tag on one of the items and the alarm went off. That is when I shouted for the police and immediately ran back into the store for cover and hid in one of the back rooms. I was concerned he may run into the building and hold everyone hostage. Instead apparently he ran outside with the bag of purchases.
This whole ordeal took place from about 10:00 AM to noon, so I was held hostage for about 2 hours.
The police arrived and took me down to the station for questioning. First they asked the staff at modell's sporting goods and then they asked the jewelry store what happened. The jewelry staff seemed incredulous that I didn't signal to them otherwise that I was in danger. Perhaps I could have indicated and written down on the receipt "call police." but the charge was declined, which I suspect because the amount was so high and such an unusual purchase.
They then took me to the station for questioning. Ted Wolkiewicz was the detective who interrogated me. I was placed into a dank room with nothing but a table, swinging lamp, and his enormous body and mine. I told him my story, which he didn't believe. He threatened obstruction of justice, jail time. I still stuck to my story. He even questioned whether this is some sort of credit card scam or gay cartel I was running.
Ted asked me the million-dollar question: "why didn't you run away sooner?" I was dumbfounded by the question. But my later answer would be "where was your fat ass when all this happened?"
Then he brought down my significant other at the time, Diane, for questioning. He said that the majority of people who come down to the station change their story because they lie, and that's why they have to treat everyone so harshly--because some may change their story under pressure and others who are telling the truth will stick with what they originally said. He threatened to interrupt one of Diane's classes to question her, but she stood firm.
The irony is that I called Dr. Herskowitz from the station apologizing that I missed the appointment because I was at the station held for questioning after a hostage situation. He later told me that he thought I was making up my story.
After giving me a lineup of possible culprits to look on the computer, Eventually they released me. But not without impounding my car and the beautiful leather jacket that my father bought me years ago in high school. They apparently were searching for prints. Weeks later, after calling repeatedly, I finally got my car back but it was ransacked; the locks were forced open. The police were unsympathetic.
Diane's sister Michelle, a probation officer, assisted by helping me get in touch with the District Attorney's office to file an official claim against the city. Eventually I was reimbursed about $1,800 for damages and the car was restored. Also she put me in touch with Inspector James Tiano, with whom I discussed my mistreatment at the hands of the city.
For weeks, months even, I was traumatized by the event, and did not want to live alone in my apartment for fear the man would track me down and return. I was also shaky and paranoid, feeling very unsafe. The police never caught the man, or at least never notified me that they did
The sunny side of the story is that this traumatic experience triggered me so intensely, a perfect state for me to do my inner work and take this into the NWTA, a men's weekend retreat. Also, to continue working with Dr. Herskowitz releasing sense of lack of physical safety. I can't say for sure whether all my fears have been cured, as I still feel unsafe at times in this planet when I think of all the violence. But at very least I am more in touch with it and know that I can survive and live through virtually anything.
