Every Friday night back in college, I had a recurring date with the library at my local University. I was a typical unpopular nerd. The staff at the library knew me on a first name basis. I even had a favorite floor. The fourth floor.
One fine Saturday morning, my brother and I ventured to the library together. I proudly showed him my productivity haven, and we secured one of the private rooms. We spent hours chatting more than studying. I sat by the window, while my brother was near the door.
As we talked, an older man walked past our door, peering inside. People often checked if the rooms were occupied, but something about this man caught my attention. Eventually, my brother and I decided to head home. On the way, we stopped at a gas station. That’s when I realized my wallet was missing.
We searched the car and retraced our steps to the library, but the wallet was nowhere to be found. It dawned on us that someone may have taken it during a brief moment when we had both left the room. We reported the incident to the library staff and then to campus police.
This was my first interaction with the police. Ever.
The cops took my statement. I had to tell them everything that was missing.
If I went anywhere else.
If I saw anything peculiar.
I recalled the man that I saw outside the door when talking to my brother. The only reason I found it significant enough to mention was because he was an older man. Not the typical age of college kids. That was it.
But the police were very interested in that detail. They asked me to describe the person.
I had to close my eyes to remember.
He was a tall older man.
He looked tired.
He had a hat on so I couldn’t describe the structure of his head well. I couldn’t say much else.
The police said that there were a series of such events on campus. They were happy to get anything that could help.
I thanked them and left. I was tired.
In a few days, the police called me to the station again. They had some pictures they wanted me to look at. At this point, it felt like an episode of law and order. I got to the station and the same cop who took my statement told me that there was some progress in my case. They needed my help to identify the person. I told them that I barely saw anyone. The person I described was from a peripheral vision of someone that looked into the room. He could have been a student.
But the cops insisted.
They showed me 8 to 10 images on one page. I took a few minutes to look at the pictures. I had to close my eyes again to recall the man I saw. I then proceeded to point at one person on the page. He was the only one that looked similar. But I reiterated that the man I saw was wearing a hat.
The cop thanked me and I left.
A few days later, the police called me again. They had made an arrest. They even found my wallet on the person they arrested. They returned my wallet with a few items missing but my ID was there so they knew to contact me. Apparently it was the same person I identified.
Hearing that petrified me.
The cops had been looking for this same person. He had seen both me and my brother while planning to execute his robbery. He had my ID with my address on it. And he got arrested after stealing my wallet.
I didn’t want him to know that I had identified him.
I didn’t want to be associated with this case.
I was too young to die a revenge death over a silly wallet I barely used.
So I decided to stop doing these cops any more favors. I attempted to stay away from them. But I quickly learnt that the law didn’t give me any options. I was reminded that the cops can subpoena me and arrest me for not sharing the fact that my wallet was stolen. I didn’t have the right to claim that I wasn’t robbed at this point. I had no choice.
I had to go to court to avoid being arrested. On the day of the hearing, I had to miss school and travel for 2 hours. I had to take 2 buses and the subway to make it to the court. I was spending more time, money and mental energy than I could afford. Both the guy that robbed me and the cops that forced me to show up seemed equally frustrating at this point.
I arrived on time. My first experience in a courtroom. Looked exactly like the law and order episodes I watched frequently. I sat all the way in the back. I made a concerted effort to get nobody’s attention. When it was time for our case, they brought the defendant to the stand. It was the first time I saw him in person properly.
He looked exhausted but ordinary. He looked thinner and younger than the guy I saw that day. But it was the same guy.
I hated him.
This person who had turned my peaceful life upside down. I am not sure if he saw me but I avoided making any eye contact with him. Fortunately there were many other people there.
In my mind, I was rehearsing what I could say that could keep anyone from getting upset at me.
The man that robbed me.
The cops that were counting on me.
The judge that seemed rude and impatient.
The future I was working on building in the US.
Then, to my amazement, the man pleaded guilty.
I didn’t understand what that meant at first. But things moved quickly after the plea. There was nothing for me to do. He had admitted his guilt so I didn’t have to point my finger and expose myself.
No questioning.
No cross examination.
No eye contact.
I was done with this mess. I was very happy.
In that moment, I realized the beauty of being invisible, and how it allowed me to avoid the unwanted attention and complications that come with being in the spotlight.
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