The cop told my dad not to press charges or the person who tried to kill him would come back for him. This was 2002 and my dad believed the cop, thought it was good advice actually. Figured the guy who cut him off on Royal Ave only to follow him home and viciously assault him was probably dangerous like the cop said.
My dad wasn’t innocent in this whole affair. He freely admits that he road raged the guy. I know my dad’s temper and I am sure that he screamed until he was blue in the face after he was cut off. He probably stuck his head out the window and yelling something like “you fucking idiot,” or “learn to drive asshole”. But what came next went beyond these irrational, but not uncommon, hollow threats.
The guy cut my dad off, then after my dad’s shenanigans, he changed lanes and got behind the beat up Hyundai Pony my dad was driving (that car is another story). I suppose at some point my dad must have let his guard down, he told me he didn’t know the guy was following him, and drove home probably fuming, but just another day in the Royal City.
My dad was living in a halfway house at the time and the place had a big driveway, lots of room to park. My dad didn’t have any problem finding a place to park, neither did the grey Celica that had cut him off fifteen minutes earlier.
“You had a problem with my driving back there?” the driver asked as he approached my dad.
“Listen, I lost my temper” my dad stated. “I’m not looking for trouble” he said.
Standing about a foot away from my dad the man said “you don’t get away with saying shit like that to a person like me”. My dad, being the man he is, later claimed that he felt he had no other choice but to punch the guy in the face. He swung, and the man avoided the punch and countered with a punch of his own.
My dad really got his ass kicked. His opponent put him in a headlock and gave him enough shots to the face to break his I orbital bone. He then took out a pen from his pocket and tried to stick it through my dad’s eye. The guy was fucking crazy he literally tried to kill my dad with a Bic pen.
Luckily one of the recovering addicts that lived with my dad in the halfway house came out and broke up the fight. I don’t really know how he broke it up as the guy kicking my dad’s ass doesn’t sound like the kind of guy that would easily be talked down
While my dad was in the ER a cop came and talked to him, he let my dad know that he was free to press charges, they didn’t want to tell him not to, but my dad should be aware that the person how assaulted him is known to them. This individual is very dangerous and will seek revenge if charges are filed. My dad took him at his word and set about carrying on with his already kind of bleak life.
A few years after the attack I was sitting in front of the tv with my dad and we saw the police kill Robert Dziekanski at YVR. My dad jumped out of his seat. “That’s the same guy that broke my face! Holy Fuck!” he exclaimed as began pacing the room.
“Fucking cops lied to me,” he snarled.
“Did they,” I asked.
“They made it sound like he was a dangerous criminal, part of some sort of gang, a guy who had connections all over this city,” he explained.
“Sounds pretty spot-on to me,” I said.