The Baseball Bat

That baseball bat came into play again.

You know the one. It's been the subject of multiple posts.

Nonchalantly dropped when I appeared unannounced in Tent City one day. Used on multiple women in violent sex-for-drugs altercations. Wielded to ascertain power of younger men on the streets.

Same bat. Same wielder.

Until last night.

I'd been responsible for getting Ronnie and Susan out of the woods and into an apartment. I was completely blindsided when the tales of abuse came in a few weeks later. How did I miss that?

Ronnie sat in church services every Sunday for months. He was the only one who didn't drink or do drugs. I thought he was the victim of circumstances. His family stole his check. His son was dealing drugs out of his house. For someone who catches on pretty quick, I missed that one big time.

Once the truth came out, in broken pieces from a variety of sources, I realized the magnitude of his control. Not only did he control them with physical violence, he was buying the drugs to keep the girls there. Or to woo them back after they'd left broken and bruised.

Susan had enough.

Thriving in a domestic violence shelter, she's finding herself again.

Frances, however, went back.

I'm not surprised though I am disappointed. She's gone to the hospital three times at his hands since I've known her. Jail twice for charges he filed on her.

She assured me she would never go back.
Two days ago she did.

There's no question in my mind as to why.
I haven't seen her but I got a call from Scooter last night.

He'd gone over to take a shower at Ronnie's house. (I'm sure there's much more to this story but I've only heard his side at this point.)

Frances was there, high on spice, and went off on him.

With that baseball bat.

He's in the hospital with multiple broken ribs and bruises.

I was so angry at all of them.

Scooter for refusing to get off the streets.

Frances for what she did to Scooter, but more so for going back to Ronnie's.

Ronnie for being an abusive drug dealer posing as an innocent, ailing old man.

I wanted to go get that bat and smash it into the wall. I hate that bat.

I voiced that thought and caught a disparaging look from my spouse.

I knew it wouldn't solve anything. I'd only be removing a prop.

I'm just frustrated.

Why do I want more for their lives than they do?