The average healthy person is happy to give to others. Charity makes us feel good. Thus, we have the old saying “That it is better to give than to receive.” Unfortunately, we are not all wired the same way.
At the early age of 13, Michael found that it was thrilling to take from others, and what always fascinated him was how willing most of his victims were to hand over their possessions at the mere threat of violence.
It began in middle school. Big Mike, his moniker, would take food from the other kids at lunchtime. He had his favorite victims. He was the classic example of a bully. The easy prey encouraged his delinquent behavior. Mike became bolder and bolder as he grew up.
By high school, he was mugging people on the streets of Brooklyn, and for no other reason than that he enjoyed doing so. It was a sport to him. The same way some people hunt and others fish he enjoyed mugging people and being crafty enough to evade the law. He never committed his acts of juvenile delinquency out in the open; his modus operandi was to catch his prey alone and never near his neighboorhood. There were times when he would travel clear across town to look for his victims.
The peculiar thing about Mike was that his stepfather was a police officer, an NYPD detective. His mother worked at a butcher shop owned by one of her uncles in the neighborhood where they lived in Bensonhurst. Mike always had what he needed, and he was well behaved and very respectful at home.
His stepdad managed to get him to straighten up and fly right long enough to attend Brooklyn College and get a degree in finance, before taking a respectable, yet very stressful job on Wall Street as an analyst. To cope with the stress Mike now all of 23-years-old reverted to his old ways.
One night Mike had stayed late at the office trying to complete a report which would be due the following day, he realized it was past 1 a.m., so he decided to call it quits. He considered calling an Uber, but the subway entrance was so nearby his office that he decided to get home the cheap way.
As soon as he got down to the empty N train platform, his radar went off. There was his victim. A short, middle-aged guy wearing eyeglasses, and probably as old as Mike’s stepdad. The man seemed to be tipsy but in control of himself. Mike noticed the man’s watch. It looked expensive. It had to be worth at least $500. Mike thought “I’ll get $100 for it at a pawn shop .”
So, he followed the man on the N train all the way to 4th Avenue and 9th Street, where they both transferred to the G train. Mike thought this is perfect. The G line is one of the most isolated lines in the New York City subway system. The two of them were the only ones in the car when Mike approached the man for the first time.
Excuse me can you tell me the time? Mike asked the startled man.
Yeah! Sure, it’s almost two in the morning.
Hey! That’s a nice watch. Do you mind if I look at it?
The man was not the least bit leery of Mike. He looked like every other young guy working on Wall Street.
No, I don’t mind.
The man slipped the watch from his wrist and handed it to Mike.
Mike grinned as he took possession of his new property.
Hey, this is a Patek Phillip! How much did it set you back?
It was a gift from a client. It’s a $12,000 watch.
What are you a lawyer or something? Mike asked the man.
You are correct. Replied the man, partially slurring his words.
As the G train pulled into Smith Street, Mike stood up still admiring the $12,000 watch.
Thanks for the watch you drunk bastard!
As the doors opened, Mike stepped off of the train, and the half-drunk attorney pursued him.
Mike was careful not to stir up a commotion with the man until the train exited the station just in case the motorman was paying attention.
The man grabbed at Mike's arm to hold him.
Give me back my watch you fucking criminal.
Mike held out his hands and said “ I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have a watch.”
Mike had already shoved the watch down into his briefs and was determined to distance himself from the man who was completely agitated by now.
I’m warning you fucker. Give me my watch back or else.
Mike halted abruptly, turned around and faced the man. He then gave him a taunting grin.
Or else what? Mike growled at the older man.
The man then drew a pistol from his waistband and aimed it directly at Mikes' face.
Mike panicked and reached to grab the gun. But it discharged with a loud bang echoing off of the subway walls. Big Mike’s brains splattered in every direction when the 9 mm shell struck him in the face at point-blank range.
Even in the jungle, predators sometimes are consumed by their prey.
Hi, I'm Lester Patterson,