A Walk Down Spring
“Fountain Avenue, where Ms. St. Guillen’s body was found, is a service road that leads to a landfill. It has a guardrail on one side, where Old Mill Creek runs through marshes to Jamaica Bay, and is littered with rusted car parts, old hubcaps and scraps from construction sites… Smashed clam shells, dropped by seagulls, litter the area.” (The New York Times, 3/1/06)
The fifth cocktail and the ready laugh and the meticulously chosen Friday night dress were far away from Imette St. Guillen when she was found early Saturday evening. It would have been a night like any other for her—at a watering hole disturbingly close to my apartment—perched on a bar stool talking about men and the city and where her new degree would take her. But, then there was a shift. A split second decision was made. The girlfriend went home. Imette stayed. Although the authorities can’t pinpoint the subsequent series of events, they are chilled by the condition in which she was found. The bright, promising smile was masked by packing tape, her young body defiled, her long brown hair shorn from her head.
Today’s city rag sheets (New York Daily News, New York Post) dole out more details, leaving us young Manhattanites bewildered, terrified, anxious. I’ve made the exact same crawl as Imette—moving from “Pioneer Bar” on the Bowery to “The Falls” on Lafayette (the latter bar owned by friends). Walking east to west on Spring Street is always a harrowing affair. But, still, I walk it alone… Near the Bowery, the crumbling, abandoned buildings possess large doorways and windows with extended stoops and ledges. I’ve always thought that their midnight shadows could accommodate any number of evils. But, still, a taxi is too expensive… The street lights are frequently broken at Elizabeth Street and Spring, Mott and Spring. Instead of the bright, white of street lamps, an eerie orange glow cast from emergency lights must suffice. But, just a few more blocks to go, I tell myself, a block or two more and I’ll be home free…
Today would be Imette’s 25th birthday. I want to say that we should go out, be with friends, remember what had been a beautiful, young life. But, then again, I’m afraid to leave the house alone.
(If you live in the area and have any information, please call the police at 800-577-TIPS)
March 2nd, 2006 at 10:46 am
This story has been a nightmare to you, me, and all other young women living in New York City… and beyond, I’m sure.
Sometimes I really can’t believe what a horrible world we live in. I often feel that the glitzy and exciting facade of New York City does a good job of masking what lies underneath.
Let us all try harder to look out for one another.
March 2nd, 2006 at 11:57 am
The excessive assault to the face….I kinda wonder if he knew her….if not I wonder who she looked like….who she reminded him of….. Too, he wrapped her in a blanket didn’t he? Like he was trying to be nurturing after-the-fact. Sounds sick but they do it.
The scariest part of it is the hair thing. Could’ve been a memento…or worse…a little ’souvenir-y’. Too often something done by someone who’s done it before. Sounds really bizarre I know. But when you look at it….it’s so not just a rape gone bad.
It IS scary.
Women…Go read the book ‘The Gift of Fear’ by Gavin Debecker.
Honestly. It’s well worth it. No matter where you live.
March 2nd, 2006 at 12:17 pm
I’m surprised Mamma didn’t give me “The Gift of Fear” when I first moved to the city. Back then, I might have tossed it out. Today, however, I’ll sit down and read it cover to cover…
March 2nd, 2006 at 1:43 pm
I lived in the NYC area all my life. As a kid, you had to be careful what blocks you walked down. You were always aware of your surroundings. You never felt completely safe. Stories like we’ve read this week, were once a monthly occurence.
New York has changed a lot … its one of America’s safest city. We worry about terrorist but not criminals and murderers. We now feel safe no matter where we are. This story reminds us of our own vulnerability. We are never completely safe. Not in NYC … not anywhere.
March 2nd, 2006 at 4:03 pm
I love how you are writing about this- keeping up the attention and helping people be self-aware. As a writer there are so many moments to explore on the side of the victim and the calculating criminal. I hope you keep up with the story. Without sounding like an oportunist this could be your In Cold Blood, Capote…
March 2nd, 2006 at 4:32 pm
It’s so scary and so sad to hear about what happens to young people late at night. It’s even sadder that it takes a story like this to remind us to be careful and be on guard.
March 2nd, 2006 at 5:20 pm
dun take that walk alone!
March 2nd, 2006 at 6:23 pm
please be careful, Belle! One can never be too safe. And I think we all know none of us is ever truly safe. I know that and I live in Oxford, Mississippi. Far from the Manhattan crowds…
March 2nd, 2006 at 7:16 pm
It’s so frightening what lurked just around the corner in all the times I walked home alone, with my clutch low in my hand where anyone could snatch it. It’s funny to think: I felt felt somehow that now I was a “city girl” and I wasn’t scared and how horrified my parents would be…
It’s not about being strong enough to repel danger–it’s just impossible to do so.
My girlfriends and I are walking a little faster these days…this is a really interesting change from your usual writing–and so sad for this poor girl and her family.
March 2nd, 2006 at 10:37 pm
TAKE A CAB! Send the bill to Chuck and me–seriously. Don’t make me call your Mum!