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Oh busy day…
|| 7/25/2008 || 5:56 pm || Comments Off on Oh busy day… || ||

A photograph of the Schiller-Stevens wedding party

Thanks to this, this, this, and even this, I’ve had over 2000 visitors to this website in the last 24 hours. When I contacted Sommer at DCist about the entry, I wasn’t expecting this kind of feedback, but I guess it it’s all relative.

Since my comment on the City Paper blog has not gone through, after unsuccessfully trying twice, I’m going to post my slightly modified comment below.

Angela Valdez of the Washington City Paper wrote:

Via DCist, blogger Nikolas Schiller says he stood up for himself and fought back when some kids pretending to have a gun told him to empty his pockets on his doorstep. They beat him up but he kept his stuff. So … Nikolas, what exactly was in your pockets to make you take such a stupid risk?

Angela, I had a pocket full of memories that could never have been replaced (see photograph above). And to clarify, it wasn’t a bunch of kids who assaulted me, rather they were young adults old enough to drive a car and old enough to know the difference between right and wrong. Frankly, I always thought I get assaulted by a group of 8th graders first, but I digress.

But truly, it was my mother’s wedding photographs that meant the most to me. Having my extended family (only my immediate family is featured above) who live in 7 different states across the country (California, Colorado, Florida, Iowa, Missouri, Michigan, and DC) in one location is something that will never happen again. I waited 13 years for my mom to finally marry my step-father and to let 30 seconds of altercation ruin those memories would have hurt more than the punches to my face.

I think the point of your question was why do something foolish like fight back? Well, a scooter can be replaced and even the camera could be replaced, but the memory card would have been gone forever. Maybe you don’t value your memories as much as I, but that is merely a difference of opinion.

Maybe this extra bit of info would make the story hit closer to the City Paper office: one of my roommates used to work with you. It could have been him instead of me….

But it begs the sincere question of whether people should fight back or give up their personal belongings. I made a choice that could have ended my life, but I lived. Had they been armed, you might have read about it in the obituary instead of my blog. But they weren’t armed and I was lucky to only end up with only a bloody fat lip.

Having been atop the summit of a 13,000 foot mountain on the continental divide and being nearly blown off by gust of wind and falling 1,500 feet to my death teaches one about being fearless in life. Being stopped in your tracks when a thousand pound grizzly bear walks by can make you realize that life can be very precarious as well as dangerous. Being assaulted on your doorstep is downright scary and while I’ve ran through the scenario numerous times in my head, I don’t think I would have changed my decision to fight for what was mine.

I only hope it doesn’t happen again.

Related:
• 24 hours in Rocky Mountain National Park
• Assaulted on my doorstep [2 hours after returning to DC]



Assaulted on my doorstep [2 hours after returning to DC]
|| 7/18/2008 || 9:30 am || 11 Comments Rendered || ||

Instead of rewriting the entire account, I am posting the e-mail I wrote to the listserv of my neighborhood association:

Neighbors,

I’m sorry to be writing my ‘return to DC’ e-mail in this context but I feel compelled to share this since it just happened.

For the last 7 days I’ve been in Colorado; first for my mother’s wedding, then for a night in the backcountry of Rocky Mountain National Park, and finally to spend some time with friends in Boulder & Denver. I arrived back on Westminster Street at 12:30am after being delayed for 2 hours in Denver. Since I was not tired yet, I decided to go to my favorite nearby watering hole on 14th & T. After one hour and one drink, I decided to ride my bike back to my house.

Upon arriving on Westminster Street, at approximately 1:36am I dismounted my bicycle behind Mr. Lewis’ white pickup truck parked in front of Mr. Brown’s house. As I passed behind my the truck and was turning toward my front door, I noticed 3 African Americans in their mid-20’s had stopped their car in the middle of the street and started to approach me. The tallest of the three wearing a white tank top and khaki jeans pretended to have a pistol in his back pocket and demanded what I had in my pockets. I backed up to my doorstep refusing their request, using my bicycle as a wall (which did not help much). They came up the steps continuing to demand what I had in my pockets. After refusing again, telling them to go away and that I was at my home, I was punched in the face & body multiple times by the three and was able to fend them off by fighting back and because I was not being knocked out cold by the punches to the face. They did not steal anything from me because I refused and fought back.

Before they drove off, I was able to run into the street and catch much of their license plate: A102108 / A101208 / A108021 (one of the variations [all turned out to be incorrect]), which was a Maryland plate with the orange, yellow, and black hues known as the “agricultural plate.” If my memory serves me, it was a mid/late-90’s gold Ford Thunderbird that they were driving (the car has a uniquely shaped trunk). I called the police who arrived within 5 minutes. Since I was bleeding from the lip the officer had the fire & ambulance come, but I signed the document refusing service ($$!!). There was one woman down the block who witnessed it all and ran inside for her safety. I have her contact information but I don’t think it will matter much because she was so far away and was scared enough to run inside– “I knew something was up when I saw them approach you, so I ran inside” (which I would have done too in her position– by herself at night).

In conclusion, this was the type of freak assault that is really really really hard to prevent. If you have people willing to commit that type of crime, there is very little we can do as a community to prevent it. I ride my bicycle at night for this very reason. Its one thing to be jumped because you are walking down the street alone at night, its a completely different issue when you are literally assaulted on your front doorstep. I moved to the neighborhood in May of 2004 and this is the first time something like this has happened to me. Its just very frustrating because I had just arrived back in the city and was refreshed after being in a place I cherish. Tomorrow I expect to receive a call from the MPD’s detective and I hope to hear some good news, but I’m not keeping my hopes up. If there is any type of follow-up, I will share it.

Your neighbor with cut lips & very sore jaw,
Nikolas Schiller

ps
Keep an eye out for this car:
https://www.canadiandriver.com/articles/bm/94-97tbird.htm
I don’t think that’s the exact car, but its as close as my memory recalls.


I ultimately received dozens of kind e-mails from my neighbors, multiple e-mails from my city councilmember, e-mails from the DC Police, and even a hand written note from a police sergeant explaining why they parked a cop car in front of my house.

This type of response was downright flattering and it made me realize that while I might live a somewhat dangerous city, I live in a community that cares about the wellbeing of its residents.


Why the caption: “sometimes memories are worth fighting for” ?

Well in my pockets were not only my wallet and cellphone, but my brand new digital camera that I had purchased to document my mother’s wedding & excursions in Colorado. Had the thugs pulled out a gun or a knife I would have surrendered everything, but they didn’t, and I knew that if I would have voluntarily handed them the contents I would have lost all the photographs & video clips forever. I’ve heard of stories where thugs have allowed their victims the opportunity to remove the camera’s memory card before stealing the camera, but I was not about to take that chance. I held my ground, got a least one solid punch off (my ring left a scare on my hand indicating that I punched the guy hard enough for the ring dig into my skin), and was able to fight to retain my memories. Memories which I hope to share on this blog in the next few days.


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  • thank you,
    come again!