Vigilante Justice
Is it sometimes the best answer?
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I am working in the produce section of a grocery store. It’s early and there are few customers. I feel a presence behind me, and before I have a chance to even move, a man’s body is pressing into my back. He grabs my breasts, and he licks the inside of my ear. I scream and pull away, running to the ladies’ restroom, where I stand at the sink crying and washing my defiled ear over and over again. My attacker? The Produce Manager.
Of course, I complain to the store manager, my boss. He laughs. He sees no harm done. He tells me to get over it. Then, later in the day, when I am alone in the employees’ break room, the store manager comes in, pushes me against the wall, and “feels me up.”
I go home and tell my father, who is a cop. He tells me to do nothing about it. He tells me that he has seen cases like mine go to court, and the only result is a woman shamed and a man exonerated. I feel betrayed.
My uncle overhears the conversation. He has always been a rebel. Also, my uncle loves me unconditionally, and has always been there for me.
When I return to work the next day, I overhear the produce manager complaining to the store manager that his Cadillac (the car that is his pride and joy) has been damaged in the store parking lot. He is trying to push the grocery store chain to pay for a parking lot monitor. Of course, his car was the only vehicle damaged, so the surveillance idea is shot down.
The next day, the produce manager’s car has 4 slashed tires. Hmm, seems like someone has a problem with him. He complains loudly, for godssakes, his property has been damaged! And he has to pay for the repairs out of his own pocket. Poor man!
He gets 4 new tires, and lo and behold, those tires are also slashed, and now, apparently, someone left a note on his Caddy about the evils of abusing girls.
Next time I saw my uncle, he winked at me and asked, “Has that jerk still been bothering you?”
The produce manager and his buddy, the store manager, never touched me again.
