Blind Man's Bluff
the Eyes of the beholder
Blind Man's Bluff, Alonzo Owens. Living in a public funded housing facility provides many interesting events which happen one after the other. On a brisk October evening somewhere around 7 o'clock pm, the parking lot becoming full with vehicles owned by inhabitants of the five building complex in which I live on the far north corner. The fragrances of Marijuana, Alcohol and Crack Cocaine being the most prevalent pervaded the air. As I sat there contemplating what would life be like if I were a rich man, the sound of footsteps interrupted the visual momentarily, as I waited eagerly to find out if I knew the approaching owner providing them.
A voice instructed someone to please stop! It's hurting me, insisted the voice, without doubt that of a woman. I moved closer to the open balcony window sitting my glasses on the arm of a nearby chair as I often do to feel the sun on my face at day's end. Again, stop! The voice pleaded, this is not a joke anymore! Let go of me. I inched even closer to the balcony railings in hope to find out just what was being carried out just below me. The voice became muffled and very difficult to hear, you Whore! A voice bellowed - this one a man.
After all I've done for you... this is how you treat me. At this point I became a bit unsettled for what transpired next made the skin crawl over my very bones. I'm going to kill you, you worthless piece of s--t! "Please don't I'll do whatever you want." The lighter voice echoed, by now I'm leaning fully over the railings trying to no avail to place an identity on the assault. Being on the north side of the complex facing the expressway, little can actually be heard even one balcony below.
At this point in my head I thought what should I do? Call for help or the police, either won't get a timely response here at kill hall housing projects in south Tampa Florida. I slowly became more uneasy with excitement on the actions to be taken. So, without further delay I dashed out the door headed in the direction of the situation yelling at the top of my lungs, "The police are on the way and I saw your face." There were no more moans of distress coming from the victim of this egregious misdoing, a silence noted the corridor, I said, "You're ok Ms." Can you hear me?
Suddenly I heard footstep moving hurriedly in my direction as I felt a pair of large callused hands grasping at my throat and the voice of a man saying, "Now I've seen your face and where you live too, and I'll be back." Frantically I began swinging my arms and fist in a protective manner causing my assailant to release his firm hold of my neck. If not for some approaching residents I might have been part of his crime. I'll see you later, his footstep faded by distance. Whew! I sighed that was stupid I convinced myself. As the moment passed I recalled what brought me here, turning to find the body that laid there lifeless and void of movement I lifted her head in my arms and said, "Are you alright ma'am?
With no reply it was then I realized that death was apparent, her body cloaked in a long evening dress, lifted at the waist. I felt a nauseating feeling deep in my stomach as I screamed for help and someone to call 911. 90 minutes or so passed an unmarked cruiser arrived, two poorly dressed detectives slowly stepped out from each side of the vehicle, one of a larger nature removing his embedded trousers from deep within the crevice of his anatomy, walked to where I stood saying, "Homicide you reported a murder." "Yes." I said, one flight up at the end of the corridor.
After a ridiculous line of questioning, I was given a card and was told that a police sketch artist would be in contact with me within 48 hours. A week passed and nothing so, I decided to take initiative, dialing the number listed, the phone rang once, twice, then three times, no answer. Beginning its' fourth ring, a scruff voice said, "Homicide Hendricks speaking." By just knowing I accomplished a connection, somewhat eased my on edge nerves. "Hello." I said, "I'm calling about the murder case at the Kill Hall housing complex." There was a void in reply, "Yes can I help you?"
In a mild-mannered tone I said, "I've been expecting a visit or call from a sketch artist from your precinct and no one has contacted me since the report was made." "Really," the voice said, cases are back logged, somebody will soon be in touch with you I'm sure. (Feeling insecure) I quipped, "Thanks enjoy your day." Several more days went by, at this juncture I felt that nothing was going to be done, just another killing in the projects.
The next morning I awoke and started by daily routine, when... "She's nothing but a Gold digger - she's not messing with no broke nigger" sounded from my Cell phone. "Hello!" I excitedly answered. A demure voice canted, "This is, Officer Herman the sketch artist assigned to the murder investigation, I'm headed up to your apartment to render a sketch description of the alleged perpetrator." "About time!" (I wanted to say)... Sure, make a right at the top of the stairs,first door on your left. I opened the door thinking how great this is when, a familiar voice said, I told you I'd be back. No sooner than those words were uttered the feelings from those large callused hands gripping my throat were again, all to current in my head. I flailed angrily loosening the grip that had me gasping for air... Mr. Hopper! I heard in the distance as the police Artist began to ascend the last of the Stairs I yelled, the Killer is here... He's here! Hearing his footsteps again fade into the distance, I leaned against the wall to collect myself looking toward the Officer with gun drawn as he neared me, where did he go! I pointed there! The stairway, within moments the Officer returned saying, "He's gone."
Aided back to my apartment the officer told me to rest and he will complete a report and set another time to conclude his business with me, quite shaken I agreed. Before you go... is it possible that an Officer be placed on duty because I fear he may return, "I'll look into it immediately Sir." Until then, lock your door and don't open it unless you see a badge or familiar face through your peephole ok sir? "Yes," I replied. As I sat there thinking what a situation I've made for myself, probably should have minded my own business. I headed to get some needed rest. The next day I sprang from my bed looking for a better start today. I walked over to feel the morning sun, stretched, yawned and began my day.
Going out as usual was not in the plans at least until identification is established and an arrest is made. The day seemed limitless, as if time stood still, being near wits end I heard she's nothing but a gold digger she's not messing with no broke nigger. Quickly I paced to my cell phone, "Hello." A voice said. "It's me and our dance isn't over!" I dropped the phone ran and made sure all locks on the door were in use, I stumbled back to the phone, recalling the numbers thick from printers' ink on the detectives card, no answer! "What now?" I wondered will this end with me being yet another unsolved murder? Just then, accounting the possibility of an Officer being posted on watch, I yelled, "Officer you there? "I think that the suspect is close by and looking to come for me again." The on duty Officer said, "Yes I'm here and don't worry sir"
A knock was heard from my kitchen I scurried to the door opening it, are you alright the voice asked, suddenly a stark realization swept over me, I know that voice, falling backwards, it's you! "Yes it's me your time is up old man." We grappled around the room and the grip of those large callused hands found their position around my throat once again, weakening under pressure from them tight on my Adam's apple I felt, this is it, take me lovingly dear lord, and with one more ditch effort I clawed, scratched and squirmed my way to the balcony railing. "Help." I tried to yell, "Someone please Help"!
As we wrestled back and forth he said, you should have kept your mouth closed and stop looking for trouble, as death began to open its door, the loud crackle of a gunshot filled the room, again, rang out the crackle of the gun, as the fatal grasp lessened and air returned to my lungs, Detective Hendricks headed towards me asking, "Sir are you alright?" "Are you alright Sir?" I nodded in assurance, he helped me to a seat - the body lying face down was slowly turned for view, Edward! Hendricks exclaimed, what the! "You know him" I asked, "Yes he's my partner we came to investigate the report you filed days ago". Not understanding what was taking place I said to Detective Hendricks, this is the man I encountered in the midst of the murder scene. "How did you know?" I asked, "I had no idea."
He asked to be assigned on watch and was granted permission. Knowing he frequented the prostitutes, I just came to see if he had any luck with the sketch artist rendition of the perp, when I was informed that officer Barkley your sketch artist, needed a Braille sketch kit because of your blindness, and would be here tomorrow, something you hid quite well during your questioning, I decided to stop over on the way home to inform Detective Smith that you were legally blind and the suspect may not be aware of it. I guess this case has the appellation of...The Blind Man's Bluff. Alonzo Owens
A voice instructed someone to please stop! It's hurting me, insisted the voice, without doubt that of a woman. I moved closer to the open balcony window sitting my glasses on the arm of a nearby chair as I often do to feel the sun on my face at day's end. Again, stop! The voice pleaded, this is not a joke anymore! Let go of me. I inched even closer to the balcony railings in hope to find out just what was being carried out just below me. The voice became muffled and very difficult to hear, you Whore! A voice bellowed - this one a man.
After all I've done for you... this is how you treat me. At this point I became a bit unsettled for what transpired next made the skin crawl over my very bones. I'm going to kill you, you worthless piece of s--t! "Please don't I'll do whatever you want." The lighter voice echoed, by now I'm leaning fully over the railings trying to no avail to place an identity on the assault. Being on the north side of the complex facing the expressway, little can actually be heard even one balcony below.
At this point in my head I thought what should I do? Call for help or the police, either won't get a timely response here at kill hall housing projects in south Tampa Florida. I slowly became more uneasy with excitement on the actions to be taken. So, without further delay I dashed out the door headed in the direction of the situation yelling at the top of my lungs, "The police are on the way and I saw your face." There were no more moans of distress coming from the victim of this egregious misdoing, a silence noted the corridor, I said, "You're ok Ms." Can you hear me?
Suddenly I heard footstep moving hurriedly in my direction as I felt a pair of large callused hands grasping at my throat and the voice of a man saying, "Now I've seen your face and where you live too, and I'll be back." Frantically I began swinging my arms and fist in a protective manner causing my assailant to release his firm hold of my neck. If not for some approaching residents I might have been part of his crime. I'll see you later, his footstep faded by distance. Whew! I sighed that was stupid I convinced myself. As the moment passed I recalled what brought me here, turning to find the body that laid there lifeless and void of movement I lifted her head in my arms and said, "Are you alright ma'am?
With no reply it was then I realized that death was apparent, her body cloaked in a long evening dress, lifted at the waist. I felt a nauseating feeling deep in my stomach as I screamed for help and someone to call 911. 90 minutes or so passed an unmarked cruiser arrived, two poorly dressed detectives slowly stepped out from each side of the vehicle, one of a larger nature removing his embedded trousers from deep within the crevice of his anatomy, walked to where I stood saying, "Homicide you reported a murder." "Yes." I said, one flight up at the end of the corridor.
After a ridiculous line of questioning, I was given a card and was told that a police sketch artist would be in contact with me within 48 hours. A week passed and nothing so, I decided to take initiative, dialing the number listed, the phone rang once, twice, then three times, no answer. Beginning its' fourth ring, a scruff voice said, "Homicide Hendricks speaking." By just knowing I accomplished a connection, somewhat eased my on edge nerves. "Hello." I said, "I'm calling about the murder case at the Kill Hall housing complex." There was a void in reply, "Yes can I help you?"
In a mild-mannered tone I said, "I've been expecting a visit or call from a sketch artist from your precinct and no one has contacted me since the report was made." "Really," the voice said, cases are back logged, somebody will soon be in touch with you I'm sure. (Feeling insecure) I quipped, "Thanks enjoy your day." Several more days went by, at this juncture I felt that nothing was going to be done, just another killing in the projects.
The next morning I awoke and started by daily routine, when... "She's nothing but a Gold digger - she's not messing with no broke nigger" sounded from my Cell phone. "Hello!" I excitedly answered. A demure voice canted, "This is, Officer Herman the sketch artist assigned to the murder investigation, I'm headed up to your apartment to render a sketch description of the alleged perpetrator." "About time!" (I wanted to say)... Sure, make a right at the top of the stairs,first door on your left. I opened the door thinking how great this is when, a familiar voice said, I told you I'd be back. No sooner than those words were uttered the feelings from those large callused hands gripping my throat were again, all to current in my head. I flailed angrily loosening the grip that had me gasping for air... Mr. Hopper! I heard in the distance as the police Artist began to ascend the last of the Stairs I yelled, the Killer is here... He's here! Hearing his footsteps again fade into the distance, I leaned against the wall to collect myself looking toward the Officer with gun drawn as he neared me, where did he go! I pointed there! The stairway, within moments the Officer returned saying, "He's gone."
Aided back to my apartment the officer told me to rest and he will complete a report and set another time to conclude his business with me, quite shaken I agreed. Before you go... is it possible that an Officer be placed on duty because I fear he may return, "I'll look into it immediately Sir." Until then, lock your door and don't open it unless you see a badge or familiar face through your peephole ok sir? "Yes," I replied. As I sat there thinking what a situation I've made for myself, probably should have minded my own business. I headed to get some needed rest. The next day I sprang from my bed looking for a better start today. I walked over to feel the morning sun, stretched, yawned and began my day.
Going out as usual was not in the plans at least until identification is established and an arrest is made. The day seemed limitless, as if time stood still, being near wits end I heard she's nothing but a gold digger she's not messing with no broke nigger. Quickly I paced to my cell phone, "Hello." A voice said. "It's me and our dance isn't over!" I dropped the phone ran and made sure all locks on the door were in use, I stumbled back to the phone, recalling the numbers thick from printers' ink on the detectives card, no answer! "What now?" I wondered will this end with me being yet another unsolved murder? Just then, accounting the possibility of an Officer being posted on watch, I yelled, "Officer you there? "I think that the suspect is close by and looking to come for me again." The on duty Officer said, "Yes I'm here and don't worry sir"
A knock was heard from my kitchen I scurried to the door opening it, are you alright the voice asked, suddenly a stark realization swept over me, I know that voice, falling backwards, it's you! "Yes it's me your time is up old man." We grappled around the room and the grip of those large callused hands found their position around my throat once again, weakening under pressure from them tight on my Adam's apple I felt, this is it, take me lovingly dear lord, and with one more ditch effort I clawed, scratched and squirmed my way to the balcony railing. "Help." I tried to yell, "Someone please Help"!
As we wrestled back and forth he said, you should have kept your mouth closed and stop looking for trouble, as death began to open its door, the loud crackle of a gunshot filled the room, again, rang out the crackle of the gun, as the fatal grasp lessened and air returned to my lungs, Detective Hendricks headed towards me asking, "Sir are you alright?" "Are you alright Sir?" I nodded in assurance, he helped me to a seat - the body lying face down was slowly turned for view, Edward! Hendricks exclaimed, what the! "You know him" I asked, "Yes he's my partner we came to investigate the report you filed days ago". Not understanding what was taking place I said to Detective Hendricks, this is the man I encountered in the midst of the murder scene. "How did you know?" I asked, "I had no idea."
He asked to be assigned on watch and was granted permission. Knowing he frequented the prostitutes, I just came to see if he had any luck with the sketch artist rendition of the perp, when I was informed that officer Barkley your sketch artist, needed a Braille sketch kit because of your blindness, and would be here tomorrow, something you hid quite well during your questioning, I decided to stop over on the way home to inform Detective Smith that you were legally blind and the suspect may not be aware of it. I guess this case has the appellation of...The Blind Man's Bluff. Alonzo Owens
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