My Wife’s Night Of Terror
A very personal story
Introduction
This is a difficult and very personal story. Some years ago my wife was attacked at home alone in our house in Johannesburg, South Africa. She wrote this account and has permitted me to publish it:
MY NIGHT OF TERROR
Friday, 20 July 2007, 6.30 p.m.
I am driving home from the local shop. It is dark and bitterly cold, not unusual for this time of the year. My son has gone away for the weekend and my husband is currently working in Zambia, so I will be having a quiet weekend of total relaxation. Some “me” time. Highly recommended by most health experts. Yes, just me, the telly, and a piping hot mug of Milo.
However, as I turn into our street, that little dream starts to evaporate and a night of sheer terror begins to unfold…
I am about a block away from the house and I see a police patrol car on the side of the road. For some uncanny reason, I feel uncomfortable (a strange hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach). I take my foot off the accelerator and slow down. I’m thinking “Should I ask them to escort me home? No, don’t be silly, get home; it’s just around the corner”. I speed up and take the corner. Only a couple of houses to go. As I reach the gate I press the remote to open the gate and the garage. Once the gate is open I accelerate up the steep driveway into the garage, pressing the remote as I go so that both close behind me (my normal routine).
As I am accelerating up the steep driveway, something catches my eye in the side mirror. Not something but someone… someone running after the car! I am now in the garage and the door is closing behind me. I glance to my right. There is a man standing next to the car with a gun pointed at my face. I look around wildly. At the passenger door, there is another man. When I look at him he also points a gun at my face.
I realise what is happening. The first man opens the door and orders me to get out of the car. Now the gun is against my right temple. I can feel the icy metal against my skin and all I can say is, “No, please”. He just grins and nods his head, grabs my arm and orders me to open the garage door. Meanwhile the second man has grabbed my handbag and is already going through my purse.
I open the garage door as instructed. Two more men enter the garage. I am then ordered to close the door. They are agitated and shouting at each other in a language I don’t understand. Once again the first man (who seems to be the leader) orders me to open the security gate, which leads into the house. I am shaking so much I can’t find the key to open the door. I drop the keys and the leader grabs my arm, “Open or I shoot”. I take a deep breath to control the shaking. “I will, just give me a moment,” I say. He just nods. I open the security gate and they push me inside.
Captive:
As I enter the house I have this strange feeling of calmness, I am alone with these four men, yet I feel a presence. It calms me and I stop shaking. I beg them, “Take what you, please don’t hurt me,” and they just laugh.
The leader grabs my left arm. “Alarm,” he shouts. The young man (the one with my handbag now over his shoulder) is holding my right arm, pulling all my jewellery off. The leader shouts at him and they let go my arms. I slide my left hand into the front pouch of my track suit and slip off my wedding ring. (To this day I don’t know what gave me the presence of mind to do that).
The leader orders me again to put off the alarm, pushing me forward. I lead them to the alarm and disarm it. I hear the dogs in the back scratching at the sliding door and barking hysterically. They can see the men and they know I am in trouble but there is nothing they can do. The leader then asks me, “Man?” I realise he wants to know when my son is coming home. “Soon,” I responded. (I wanted them to believe that someone would be coming home).
The leader pushes me towards the bedrooms as they go from room to room inspecting “the goods”, pointing at certain items (computer, TV, etc.). I am taken back to the lounge, pushed down on the couch and the tall one tells me to keep quiet by placing his finger to his lips. I sit and look down, trying not to make eye contact. I put my hands in the tracksuit pouch to stop them shaking. I feel the ring. I look up and they have their backs turned so I quickly slip the ring down the side of the couch. They still have their backs turned, discussing something, pointing to the sliding door leading to the pool area. I realise they are looking for an escape route.
The tall one pulls me up from the couch and pushes me towards the door. He wants me to unlock the security gate. I open the sliding door and instantly the dogs are there barking, showing their teeth, really agitated. My mind starts racing and I can feel panic setting in. Are they going to shoot the dogs? I know I have to do something. I am concerned that if they start shooting, they might turn their guns on me.
I have to do something. I turn to them and say, “You can’t go out there. They are attack dogs and they will kill you!” The tall one slaps me and indicates once again with his finger to be quiet. I am taken back to the couch. He stands over me, pulls my hair back and starts playing with my earrings and the collar of the polo neck I’m wearing….
I close my eyes and start praying, “Oh God please don’t let him kill me, please help me”. He grunts and walks away. I open my eyes and he is gone. (He does this three more times.) I am convinced now that he will hurt me. I look around for an escape. I know I have to get away from them. But how? There is no escape but I have to think of something. I just keep praying, asking God to help me.
The leader comes in again and drags me to the garage. He gives me the keys to the car, and points. I don’t understand what he wants. He says, “Show start”. I realise he wants me to show him how to start the car. I show him how to turn the immobiliser off. He nods, spins me around, gun in my back and pushes me towards the couch again. I sit down. He disappears into the kitchen and comes out with two dogs leashes. I start to panic. Oh God! He is going to strangle me.
He pulls my hands together and ties them up with the one leash then reaches down to tie up my legs, telling me to move my ankles together. I comply but manage to keep my ankles slightly apart, praying that he does not notice. He doesn’t and goes back to the rooms down the passage.
All through this the dogs are still going crazy. One of them, a Pointer, who is very protective of me, is jumping on the lounge windowsill, which is about a metre high, scratching at the window. She keeps setting off the electric eye, which runs down the side of the house. This upsets the tall one and he runs into the lounge and threatens to shoot me. I stand up and try to explain but he pushes me back onto the couch and waves the gun in my face. I hear the leader call him and he leaves.
I take a deep breath… thank you lord, I whisper to myself.
They start carrying items to my car, walking past me, stopping to show me what they are taking. One of the younger ones, maybe 20, walks in with my jewellery box in his hand. He stands in front of me, tossing out all the costume jewellery, staring at me with a leer on his face. I just look down and ignore his taunts.
As they are going back and forth to the car, I am slowly untying the leash around my ankles, just enough to run if I have to. They don’t notice as they keep walking past me. I am also keeping track of their movements. I know my only escape is to get behind the security gate in the passage. The only problem is they keep going back and forth for more “loot”.
So, I start counting, one, two, three of them are in the garage, where is the fourth one, the leader?
He comes down the passage and into the open plan kitchen. He has my duvet wrapped around him and is now going through the kitchen cupboards. He walks past me, pots and pans in his hands, laughs and pulls the duvet tighter around his shoulders and heads for the garage.
Without any hesitation I jump up, kick the leash off my ankles, run behind the security gate and slam it shut. I can feel my heart pumping in my throat as I run down the passage and press the panic button. Instantly, the alarm is activated and the noise is wonderfully deafening.
Suddenly, all hell breaks loose. I can hear them screaming at each other, the car starting, the garage door opening. They race out of the garage, smashing into the garage door. I can hear the scraping and then I hear the car hit the gate.
And then… absolute silence.
I sit on the bed sobbing, knowing that our security company will arrive soon. Time passes endlessly.
I press the panic button again. It wails for awhile and then stops. I wait a few more minutes.
Nothing…
I now realise no one is coming and I need to get help. But this means I have to unlock the security gate and venture outside. I know I have to do this. I know I have to calm down. I take a deep breath.
Cautiously, I unlock the security gate listening for any noise. I walk to the garage, peep around the corner the door and see that the gate is open. I have to make a run for it. I am terrified that they may still be watching the house. I take off my shoes. I can run faster barefoot.
I run down the driveway, turn left down the road, looking for a house with lights on. About fifty metres down the road, to my joyous surprise, I find an open gate. Lights are on in the house and I hear voices. Without thinking I run up to the front door and find it standing open. I stumble into the house and find myself in somebody’s lounge. The family is watching TV. I start screaming, “Please help me”. Somehow I manage to tell them what happened and they start contacting the police and my family.
I don’t remember much after that as the shock set in and I broke down. What I do remember was a little girl about five years old sitting next to me on the couch, putting her arm around me. I looked at her and smiled, thinking, “I’m safe, I survived”.
EPILOGUE
These four men went on to rob four more homes in the area within the next two weeks. However, their spree would come to an end soon. They gained access to a fifth home (four houses away from mine). This time, as they entered, they started shooting randomly. However, this owner was armed, and after a shootout, two of them were killed whilst the other two managed to escape.
Somehow I should be pleased, elated even.
They got what was coming to them.
Yet I feel nothing.
I relive that night every day.
I see their faces every day.
I have chosen not to try to describe any of them. How does one describe these kinds of animals?
I will not give them that credibility.
I will not give them that satisfaction.
I now have to live with the rigours of post-trauma stress; the constant nightmares, the panic attacks, and fear of the dark (to this day I do not go out alone at night).
Other people can talk about forgiveness and the so-called healing power thereof, but I am afraid there is no real closure for me and my life will never be the same.
