As I was walking out of a grocery store in East Las Vegas on Saturday, May 6, I witnessed what appeared to be a mugging in progress. It was about 12:30 p.m. and there in broad daylight two large, muscular men in their 20s were advancing on an elderly gentleman trapped between two parked cars, with each of the would-be attackers on either side.
As they closed in, the man panicked and started to call out feebly, "Help, help!"
I was no more than 60 yards away when I realized what I was seeing. I looked around and saw a couple of women entering the store and at least three men leaving it. They glanced in the old man's direction for a brief moment and then turned their heads and went on about their business.
His attackers hesitated only slightly, but as they also saw these possible witnesses turn their heads, they continued to move in, counting on us ignoring them.
I thought to myself, My God, am I just going to walk to my car and drive away and flinch in my seat as I hear this man get beat down or shot? I thought about my wife and kids, I think I even heard the phrase crime of omission run through my head. Then I thought, These guys are counting on me to do nothing, but I'm afraid I just can't do that.
Now let me be perfectly clear; I am no hero and have no desire to put myself in harm's way, so I can't explain why I did what I did next.
With my deepest, sternest voice I barked out "Hey! Over there! I am watching."
With those six words everything changed. The burly men stopped dead in their tracks and looked in my direction. The old man was confused but somehow he was now engaging them.
I projected again in the same voice, "Old man, walk away now! .... Go, move, go!"
It worked. He walked away.
Then they turned to me.
I'm going to get shot right here in this parking lot. I am so stupid, I thought as I nervously quickened my pace.
One of the men called out, "What did you say?"
"I wasn't talking to you," I said with as much attitude as I could muster.
I was sure they were going to come up from behind me and do something really bad, but I knew it would be a mistake to look at them, so I walked away as if nothing had happened. I walked right past my car and into some mattress store, and waited.
They fled the scene. End of that story.
In April, I was to serve my first day ever of jury duty. Most people told me to try to get out of it as it would be tedious, time-consuming and boring. They could not have been more wrong.
I was to serve as a juror on the State vs. Young case, a gruesome quadruple homicide that took place back in 1998. The other defendants, though not present at this trial, were Donte Johnson and Sikia Smith.
As if that were not enough, we were instructed that Terrell Young would be defending himself. It was a circus from the get-go.
Day One: We were asked the typical bias-discovering questions. They asked if we had any experience with police or the court system. I raised my hand and told the district attorney I had been arrested for skateboarding on private property as a teenager. Judge Nancy Saitta then told me that she had a son who skated and asked me if "I was any good."
Now this is just nuts. So here's a guy accused of executing four people in cold blood, and she wants me to talk about how I'm a good skateboarder?
"Sure, I guess so," I said.
It went from weird to worse. Mr. Young would invoke some rule he had trouble pronouncing and the judge would say, "Now is not the time for that. You will get your chance."
But he just kept on talking and wouldn't sit down. Finally the bailiffs had to subdue him, threaten to shock him, put him in some kind of joint lock and escort him out of the courtroom.
Day Two. Mr. Young got his turn questioning the jury.
Basically he stumblingly asked us if we had any problem finding him not guilty because his constitutional rights were violated. He said they arrested him without cause, and then coerced self-incriminating speech out of him.
At some point on the second day it appeared that more jurors would be excused. Mr. Young was under the impression that he would be making the selections.
Of all the people in the jury box, only two people—myself and an African-American—were not white. We were among the three or four excused.
Immediately Mr. Young started frantically shouting something like, "No, I didn't pick the black dude and the Mexican. Not the black dude and the Mexican. Not the Mexican!"
In his eyes, we were his only allies. We were his only hope. Later that day I was told that he erupted violently and had to again be taken out of the courtroom.
On the way out of the building, one of the excused jurors commented to me that he thought the defendant was playing the system. That could be. But I'm certain that Mr. Young did not trust anyone that works for "the man." He came from a culture that has little reason to trust the system. In fact, he represents a category of people who live in a destructive culture or, really, no culture at all. Here's where it all came together for me: It is in the absence of culture that crime pervades.
Vegas, a high-crime city, needs cultural growth for many reasons, among them the prevention of crime. People learn value and respect for life through family, religious institutions, art and culture. In their absence there is no sense of community and the only thing left to strive for is the self.
Laws and law enforcement can punish criminals, but when it has come to that point, it's too late, the damage is done. People are hurt or dead and lives are changed forever.
In a city that prides itself on superficiality, hedonism and materialism, it's no wonder that crime rates are rising. It's simply cause and effect.
Until just recently, I was unsure about the relevance of art and culture in our world. Now I have no doubts.
Art and culture are not luxuries. They are not superfluous to a working city but integral to it. These institutions are not solely for the intellectually elite. Neither should they be thought of as lapdogs for the wealthy. They bring joy and color to life. They are what keeps, and perhaps makes us human. And they are the backbone of any civilized society. They direct our energies to positive things.
I don't think that simply adding more laws to the books and more cops to the streets alone are going to do the trick in deterring crime. I believe that taking our cultural development, both locally and nationally, more seriously is just as important. Once people decide to commit a crime, laws and police can do little to stop them.
I could've walked away from my encounters with crime feeling afraid and disheartened. Instead, it made me believe we all need to take more time to build our community, reach out, and provide a rich and inclusive cultural experience for people from all walks of life.