Brisbane Patrol on 30/31 July 2010

Captain Australia’s Crime Fighting Journal, Entry#75

I patrolled the City and Valley last night from shortly before midnight until around five o’clock in the morning.  Regrettably, my videographer (who sometimes helps me with filming my experiences as a vigilante crimefighter) was not available.

It is my hope to get some higher tech camera/surveillance equipment, but I also need people to help me operate it and document what I do.  If you happen to live in anywhere in Australia and would be willing to volunteer to accompany me on a patrol and help take video, please email me at helpme@captainaustralia.net – unfortunately I cannot pay you, but I would owe you a debt of gratitude.

In between long periods of walking, last night’s patrol did offer some interesting encounters, which I will outline.

Firstly, I was walking through an area near the Valley when I was hailed from the balcony of an apartment building above.  I waved and continued to move on, but a group of revellers rushed down, urging me to join them at their party.  I respectfully declined, but they begged for just ten minutes.

It was an interesting encounter.  Politely sipping a beer while being quizzed by a small group of well groomed, urbane young men.  I explained my mission and objectives as best I could, but I don’t think I really got past the superficial amusement at my appearance.  Gents, if you read this, I’d urge you to join me in my Quest to Save the World.

The second encounter happened at about 1am, near the river in closer to the Brisbane CBD.

I met a dishevelled homeless man called Walter, and sat and spoke with him at great length.   Homelessness was in front of my mind, having just visited the charity Sleep on The Streets on the weekend prior, and giving a little of my time and a hundred dollars from my wallet.

Walter showed me the real face of homelessness in Australia.

He lost his wife to cancer a few years ago, and simply could not go on with his day to day life.  Being catholic, he felt that killing himself would condemn him to an eternity in Hell, so he was just ticking away the remaining days of his life, much as a prisoner might mark their time in jail on a calendar.

I don’t think the average workaday Aussie really sees people like Walter.  And it’s a terrible shame.  People react to suffering like it is an ugly, contageous disease – when in fact it presents a great opportunity.  If you see someone in pain, I’d urge you to take the time to hear their story, and do what you can to help them.  Remember the old saying “A friend in need is a friend indeed” ?  I think the underlying meaning behind that is to show how much benefit you can get from helping others.

I think Walter was terribly, horribly lonely.  We sat and spoke for more than an hour, and during our talk he mentioned that there was a gang of teenage thugs running through the bottanical gardens just near the CBD, threatening and robbing people.

I went to check it out, and it wasn’t long before I found them.

I was initially approached by three laughing young thugs, circling around me like sharks.  I noticed immediately that in the shadows of the nearby bushes other characters were lurking, I figured as many as six in total getting their kicks waylaying and threatening drunks or couples passing through the gardens at night.   None of them looked much over 20 years old.  A dangerous situation.

Of the three who confronted me directly, one had his hand in his jacket, clearly implying that he had a knife.  In these kind of situations, acting quickly and decisively is crucial, keeping your opposition off balance.  You also have to very firmly establish who is predator and who is prey with these kind of cowards.

So I removed my maglite torch from my utility belt and shined it directly into the eyes of the kid with the knife and demanded “What’s that in your pocket, mate?”

This did indeed seem to put them off balance, so I pressed forward, demanding he show his hands.  He responded with a few choice profanities, and one of the other kids said something like “give us your money, you freak”.  I turned the torch on him (I wanted it handy as a defensive weapon), and said “the only thing you’re collecting from me is a broken jaw if you make a move at me, mate” (which I thought was pretty action-hero at the time).

It’s a difficult situation.  Do I call the authorities ?  The gang hadn’t really done anything to me yet.  Do I try to negotiate ?  Do I goad them into a fight ?  Interestingly, they threw a few mocking words at me and one of them said (deleting the expletives) “lets just get out of here”.

I followed them.  They ran.  I chased them.  They scattered.

I guess by disbanding them, I at least stopped them from hurting or robbing anybody else that night – but I have to wonder, why weren’t the police there, putting a stop to it ?  Surely if Walter was aware of people being assaulted or robbed, someone must have made a complaint to the authorities ?

In any case, it was now about 4am, so my mind turned toward home (which was about an hour and a half brisk walk).  I walked back to where I had met Walter first, to see if there was anything I could do for him .. but he was gone.

So: home.

I get home, I un-suit and fall into bed, tired but mentally alert.  About a half hour after my head hits the pillow, I feel a wet warm sticky sensation on my face.  My infant son (16mth) is smiling, gurgling, and lavishing kisses on my cheek. waking me up because he wants to eat/dance/play.  I won’t disclose too many details about my alter ego for fear of compromising my secret identity, but I have a little boy and another baby on the way.