Silence is Complicit

I need to preface this by saying this is insanely difficult to write, so please accept my apologies if it isn’t as coherent as I usually write.  I just don’t know how to put this into words in an articulate manner.

I was 14 years old on April 29, 1992.  Honestly I don’t recall what I was doing.  Knowing 14 year old me, I was probably looking forward to leaving school and going home to play Super Mario Bros 3.  I wasn’t a kid who watched or paid much attention to the news, but I was casually paying attention to Los Angeles, California and the drama playing out in a courtroom.  In early March, a video began circulating throughout the country of five officers from LAPD surrounding someone and mercilessly beating him in the middle of street during a traffic stop.  Being young and naïve, I wondered what the driver had done to deserve it.  I knew what I watched seemed brutal and excessive, but police are here to protect and serve so there had to be a reason for it, right?

The next month and a half rolled by with arrests and charges for the officers.  The driver, Rodney King, had every piece of dirty laundry aired out to the public.  He was on parole and fleeing from the cops so he must have deserved it, seemed to be the thought from the defenders of the officers.  Conversely, the African American community had rallied behind King.  While openly admitting that he didn’t have a choir boys’ record, he was still a human being that did not deserve to be assaulted.  He did not deserve to have 11 skull fractures, permanent brain damage, broken bones and teeth, kidney failure and a lifetime of emotional trauma.  Even at 14 years old, I could see something much larger was at play.  I just didn’t know what.

Aftermath of the LA riot

The afternoon of April 29^th the verdicts were read in the trial of the officers.  Moved out of LA to the suburb of Simi Valley, they were acquitted of the charges of assault and excessive force.  Hit with batons 56 times…not guilty.  Even my young mind couldn’t wrap my head around that.  I always believed police were there to protect and serve but five on one with that many strikes seemed like a lot.  Within hours, LA was ablaze.  Fires, looting, riots, assault.  The community in LA did not sit back.  They let their displeasure known.  For five days, the tension was palpable and eventually subsided, with hopes that the leaders would work towards easing tensions that were clearly drawn down racial lines.

I didn’t think I would every see anything like that again.  Over the last 28 years I have witnessed other situations that have ended in death, but nothing seemed to spark national outrage the way that King and LAPD did.  We’d see news reports that would cause us to sit up and take notice that there’s still tensions between law enforcement and African American communities, but they seemed to simmer down quickly.  We’d talk about it briefly and then things just seems to fade away.  From my perspective, I would think that there was more to the stories so maybe the initial response didn’t accurately portray the situation.  Honestly, that may have just been my way to use the “bad apples” argument.  There’s good and bad in every collection of people.  The bad were being weeded out so we’ll get to a point where law enforcement and every community can live harmoniously.  It was a utopian mindset.  Everything is going to work itself out and we’ll all be on the same page.  Such a naïve way to think.

See, I’ve never had a bad interaction with law enforcement.  I’ve been pulled over.  The interactions were good.  Move on.  When I was managing a movie theater, I was almost robbed.  Unbeknownst to me, the police would monitor me every night to make sure I was safe, knowing how much money would be flowing through the business.  They stopped anything from happening.  You develop a soft spot for them when they spare you from getting pistol whipped.  I have friends in law enforcement and I can’t imagine what they encounter on a daily basis.  Bluntly put, I’m not brave enough to do what they do and I have the utmost respect for them doing it.  However, they’re the good ones.  We all know there’s some bad ones.

George Floyd

The latest incident was George Floyd in Minneapolis.  Suspected of using a counterfeit $20 bill, a store clerk contacted police, who appeared on the scene.  Four officers pulled up and handcuffed Floyd.  After 8 minutes and 46 seconds, face down with an officer’s knee pressing into his neck, Floyd had died.  I watched the full video, as well as the security footage and alternate angles.  It was one of the most heart wrenching things I have ever seen.  I regret watching it because his pleas for help, calling out for his deceased mother, were ignored.  He repeatedly said, “I can’t breathe”, something we heard a few years ago in New York with Eric Garner.  Floyd said that 15 times during the incident.  He passed out and never regained consciousness.  While lying there, limp and motionless, the officer maintained his knee on Floyd’s neck, essentially choking him to death.  Once the ambulance arrived, the officers got up and without any care, threw Floyd’s lifeless body onto a stretcher.  Just another day in the office, apparently.  The video quickly found its way online and the news sources everywhere.  I assumed justice would be swift on this one; 4 officers arrested for the murder of George Floyd.  Boy, was I wrong.

It took three days of protests, peaceful and violent, to get an arrest.  When that arrest came, it was only one officer and the charges seemed less than they should have been.  The other officers, who had all been fired, were still free.  Outrage and frustration had boiled over nationwide.  It was another few days before the others were arrested.

So much happened in the days after the murder.  The world has since devolved into chaos.  Looting.  Assaults.  Tear gas into innocent crowds.  More assaults.  People wanted answers, they wanted justice, they wanted equality and they wanted to know why this keeps happening, seemingly to the same group of people.  They repeatedly got no answers.  Instead, they were met with brutal force.  Instead of having a compassionate ear, they were attacked and threatened.  Where was our leadership?  Hell, where’s our “leader”?  That’s right.  He’s hanging out in a bunker, like a coward.  He’s tweeting like a 12 year old with threats of violence and military presence on the American people he is supposed to work for, not against.  That’s no way to lead.  Leadership would have been to immediately speak out against the murder of George Floyd.  Leadership would have been going to Minneapolis to meet with the state leaders and public.  Show people that you care.  That didn’t happen.

I hate talking politics because it is such a divisive topic, but I’m not even sure what I say next is political.  It’s more about decency, humanity and equality.  The current president has no sympathy for you if you are not white.  I don’t even think it’s a question at this point.  Look at his response to Charlottesville, VA.  Look at his response to Lansing, MI.  These were people, carrying weapons with them, who were not met with the type of force we’ve seen this week.  The people of Lansing, yelling and berating the police vociferously, were not met with riot gear, tear gas and physical assaults.  They were allowed to voice their opinions and allowed to go home without issue.  The president called the racist protesters in Charlottesville “very fine people”.  The protestors in Michigan were “very good people”.  When Black Lives Matter protestors started in Minneapolis the response was “thugs” and “when the looting starts, the shooting starts”, a phrase coined by Miami police chief Walter Headley in 1967 after proudly proclaiming “We don't mind being accused of police brutality. They haven't seen anything yet.”  This is the type of “leadership” we have in the White House.  Riots and looting occurred as law enforcement increased their violence.  Violence begets violence and that was on full display.

Protesters attacked in Charlottesville

I’m astonished every day when I talk to the wonderful, smart people I have in my life that support him.  We’re in the most volatile time I have been part of, whether race relations or the fumbling of a pandemic, and his lack of leadership is glaring.  Yet, he still has his supporters.  I know my words won’t change their minds, nor will their words change mine.  I’ve seen an enabling of racism where a white athlete’s opinion is happily accepted (Drew Brees) and an African American athlete told to “Shut up and dribble” (LeBron James).  It just seems to me that racism is becoming more accepted and out of the shadows, which is the absolute wrong way for this country to go.  When you have a president that is perceived to be racist and supportive of those who also share that mindset, it empowers that ignorance.  I could go on and on, but I know those who agree with me will nod along while those who disagree won’t change their stance.  It’s why I hate politics.  Everyone digs into their opinion and refuses to look from a different angle.

Black Lives Matter.  It’s really that simple.  In saying that, no one is saying that other lives don’t matter; white, Asian, Mexican, police, on and on.  Yes, all lives matter but they can’t all matter until Black Lives Matter too.  Yes, there have been law enforcement crimes against other races.  Where’s your passion for that?  Why aren’t you protesting for fair police treatment?  If you feel like a white guy has been wronged by the police, where’s your voice for that?  Is it that you don’t really care about that, as it doesn’t affect your little bubble?  No wait.  I’ve got it.  You’d rather spend your time and energy continuing to oppress, belittle and treat others with inequality.  Do me a favor.  Go watch the end of the George Floyd video when those officers unceremoniously toss his dead body around like it is garbage and then tell me that they thought his life mattered.  They couldn’t have cared less about this man, his friends, his family, his 6 year old daughter.  He was just another victim, murdered because he was accused of using a fake $20 bill.  Say it with me.  Black. Lives. Matter.

Look, I have friends in law enforcement.  Based on posts in Facebook, I also have friends who are anti-law enforcement.  To quote a Tweet I saw recently, I think this sums it up perfectly:

“I respect the police, their jobs and their courage, but they’re leaders. Leaders are held to a higher standard. When those standards aren’t met there are bigger consequences. Put those offenders in jail forever to HELP prevent this from happening again.”

I have friends on every end of the spectrum so I made the conscious decision, many years ago, to stay silent on politics and situations such as this.  As I examine the world right now, I realize that my silence makes me complicit in this.  I didn’t understand that my privilege allowed me the choice to stay silent.  I can choose to interject an opinion or say something, but I can easily sit back and not acknowledge the inequalities that millions live with every day.  I thought that living how I do, with no prejudice in my heart and teaching my son that we don’t judge people by how they look, was good enough.  I felt that those efforts were enough to help this and the next generation change the world to be a better place.  I was wrong.  There’s a battle out there for equality and, until we raise our voices, this will continue.  It’s time for everyone to stand up and speak out for our fellow human being; irrelevant of color, background, sexual orientation, religious affiliation.

DMPD with some night hoops

As with most things, the attention is usually paid on the negative and not on the positives.  The overall protests have been peaceful, filled with good-hearted people trying to impact change.  This isn’t just civilians, but police as well.  So many moments of kneeling, walking arm in arm, handshakes and crying together.  The police have the hardest job in the world.  It’s not just enforcing the law, but sometimes just pulling up to a park for a quick pick-up basketball game on a slow night (happened in Des Moines a couple years ago).  They’re there to keep us safe.  However, there has to be accountability and repercussions when they do wrong…much like every day citizens.  We need transparency.  We need to know what’s happening in these situations where an officer has crossed the line.  And, damn it, it should never take days to arrest an officer or officers who clearly murdered a man with no care for his life.  We need everyone to be treated with respect.  Period.

The Rock

Do yourself a favor and listen to this.  (You didn’t think we’d get through one of my blogs without referencing The Rock, did you?)  He’s not coming from a political place.  He’s coming from a place of love and compassion.  He’s gently calling out someone he’s known for many years.  Let his words sink in.

It's been almost eight years since Rodney King passed away and, sadly, as a society we haven’t learned anything from the lessons of his unfortunate situation.  George Floyd.  Eric Garner.  Tamir Rice.  Philando Castile.  Michael Brown.  Breonna Taylor.  The list goes on and on.  “Can we all get along?”  That was what Rodney King was pleading for.  Unfortunately, with the lack of leadership we currently have, we still have a long road to go.

Marshall Has Hit Double Digits

Marshall Anthony Wahl, my son, is turning 10 years old today.  10.  Ten.  Diez.  Zehn.  X.  No matter what language you want to use, we have officially arrived in double digits.  Nothing will ever be the same again.

Marshall and I on the throne

Come to think of it, though, this has been a year of major change.  At this time last year, Marshall was gearing up for his birthday party.  Honestly I couldn’t tell you what we did or who was over.  Unbeknownst to him, or at least I thought, his parents were moving very close to divorce.  It had been brewing for a long time but it had obviously taken over the house.  There was a palpable tension, an awkward silence.  The only noise was from the TV, Marshall and I playing or my cat Bailey begging for more food.  The silence had grown louder and louder to him, but he never said a word about it.  Once I moved forward with the divorce, it became my job to sit him down and explain what was happening.  It was a Wednesday evening when we sat him in his room to break the news.  I started off by asking him a simple question, “Do you notice that Dad and Mom don’t really talk much?”  The second he answered “yes”, I knew I was failing as an example for what a positive relationship between partners is.  He shed a few tears, asked a couple of questions and then wanted to be alone for a minute.  After about 10 minutes I went into his room and asked if he wanted to go shoot hoops across the street.  He jumped up and we went on our way.  As we walked across the street, we had one of the best interactions.  Honestly, it was something that put my mind at ease regarding him.

“So, do you have any questions about anything?” I asked him.

“I have a question.” He responded.

“Sure, buddy.  What’s on your mind?”

“Are you going to get married again?”

Seriously.  We’re 10 minutes removed from the Earth shattering divorce conversation and he’s asking about another marriage!

“I’m not sure, kiddo.  It’s probably a little early to think about that. Why?”

“If you do, can I be invited to it?  I just think that would be a really fun party.”

I was floored and smiling at him.  He seemed to be handling it well.

“You’ll be invited to everything in my life, but especially my wedding.”

“Cool.  You know what you should do, Dad?”

“What’s that?”

“You need to get on Match and eHarmony, but not Farmer’s Only, since you’re not a farmer.”

It was such a crazy interaction, especially given that it was minutes after I told him about the divorce.  He was ready to get his Dad moving on and ready to roll.  It was a priceless, funny and candid moment.  It was filled, not with sadness, but with hope.  At that moment, I knew I had his support.

That’s one of the things I love about Marshall.  He’s caring and he really wants me to be happy.  What’s great is that he sees me happy now.  He sees me with my girlfriend Emily and how we have a beautiful relationship, the type I am proud to be in and show him a good example of how a relationship should be.  He mentioned it a few weeks back.  Unprompted, he walked up to me and said, “Dad, you and Emily really love each other.”  I told him that we did and he just shrugged with a, “Yeah, I know.  That’s why I said it,” vibe.  What’s even more amazing is watching the relationship between Emily and Marshall grow.  She’s baking and setting up all kinds of fun things for his birthday party.  As she told him ideas, he lit up with excitement.  They talk and joke together.  It warms my heart every time I see them interact.  He’s bonded with her, naturally.  I guess when two amazing people interact, they’re going to bond pretty easily.

It's funny because, as I was researching and talking about divorce with people who have gone through it, one friend bluntly told me, “Kids are more resilient than we give them credit for.  You know what you need to do.  Do it.  The longer you drag it out, the worse it will be for him.”  It’s amazing how he’s handled everything and that’s been a gift this entire time.

We’ll be giving him presents later today.  He’s going to be excited and we’re going to make his day as great as possible.  The entire time, though, I’ll be thinking that I’m the one who has been given the best present of all.  Marshall is the gift that keeps giving, over and over.  His love, support and trust in me have meant so much in a crazy year.  10 years ago I was terrified about being a father and the potential of not being the best I could for him.  Now I wake up every day and know I’m doing the best I can for him.  He sees it, knows it and appreciates it.  I feel like the luckiest Dad in the world.  Our bond is pure, true and stronger than it’s ever been.

Happy birthday, Uce!  You’re the best kid a Dad could ask for.

My Night Working At WWE Raw

I love professional wrestling.

Anyone who is around me for a few minutes knows I love professional wrestling.  The stories.  The athleticism.  The performers.  The business itself.  It’s always intrigued and captivated me.  I’ve been a fan for over 30 years…and it shows.

Official with a headset

When the WWE announced that their flagship show, RAW, would be live from Des Moines on April 22^nd, 2019, I knew I had to do one thing…work security for it?  Yes, for the last few months I have been working part time security through CSC, who handles security for venues in Des Moines, including the Wells Fargo Arena.  The second they posted available shifts I jumped at the chance.  I took a shift starting at 3:00 in the afternoon and left the arena around 11:30 that night.  See, I try to take shifts that work for my schedule but are also fun.  This definitely fit the bill.

I parked my car and started walking the two blocks to the arena.  As I reached the street across from the venue, I glanced over to see my favorite tag team performers, The Usos.  After a double take and a mutual head nod to each other, they drove off as I proceeded to the employee entrance, while they went to the performer parking.  As I walked through the arena doors, I now fully understand how the children felt when they walked into Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

I opened the door for Downtown Bruno…known as Harvey Whippleman in the 80’s.

Production equipment everywhere.

The WWE interview area.

AJ Styles at a table autographing posters.

The catering area…where a plethora of WWE superstars mingled and ate.

Wait…Kurt Angle is walking right towards me!  Holy s***, Kurt Angle just said hello to me!!

 

Jason Jordan & Kurt Angle

Jason Jordan, who is no longer an active wrestler but a backstage producer, gave me a wide smile and asked how I was.

Alexa Bliss is checking her phone, looked up at me, smiled and continued walking.

The Miz just cut a promo into his phone 10 feet away.

My wrestling fandom is on overload!

I reached the hallway where our security offices are located to check in, grabbed a shirt and waited to find out where my position for the night would be.  The event coordinator for the night said to me, “tunnel”.  Now, keep in mind, I’m only a few months into the job so I don’t really know all the verbiage yet.  We’re in an arena and there are a lot of tunnels so I asked for clarification.  He told me where it was and a chair would be there.  Easy enough.  I walked out of the office and headed down to my post.

I walked past the seamstresses and wardrobe containers.

I walked past some lighting equipment.

I walked past an ironing board.

My initial view

There it was.  My chair.  My spot for the night.  I looked around to find what the credentials looked like for the night, so I knew who would be allowed to access my tunnel.  I saw a sign for the hallway that said Still Photo and another that said Network Originals.  I quickly realized that I’d be seeing a few superstars over the course of the evening.  Little did I know, once I lifted my head and observed around me, there would be so much more.

I looked around to get an idea of where I was.  I started on the left where I saw a basic, paper sign that read: Vince’s Office.  Hold on a second.  Did they really just post me right near WWE owner Vince McMahon’s office??  Holy balls.  I scanned to the right where the hair and makeup ladies were starting work.  Scan a little more to the right…locker room entrance for the male performers.  Again…holy balls.  Not only would I be seeing a few people I recognize here and there, I’d see the entire Raw roster!  Continuing to scan the right, I see the Gorilla Position, where every on screen talent goes prior to walking on stage.  Not only was I in a cool spot, I was literally in the heart and soul of the WWE production of a Monday night Raw.

WWE 24 on WWE Network

“Stay professional, Ryan.”  That became my mental mantra for the evening.  As I stood there, watching the crew and talent prepare for their weekly show, I was blown away at how smooth this complex production went.  Everyone knew their job.  Everyone worked together.  People had smiles on their faces and seemed to enjoy what they did.  I had the pleasure of talking with a director/editor/videographer from their network series 24.  We talked about our shared love of wrestling, how he got involved in the WWE and so much more.  As he waited for Seth Rollins to finish practicing his segment with Triple H, we joked about me going to get Seth as the interview was more important.  As the videographer went to get him, he turned and said, “If Triple H is still talking I’ll just tell him Security Ryan said it was time to get Seth.”  I nodded and said I had his back.  Good times.

Wait, there’s more!

Who’s walking up behind me?  Wait, that’s Rey Mysterio without his mask!

 

Corey Graves

The original inspiration for my haircut, Corey Graves, just sat down to get his hair done.  Why am I watching this man get his hair done??

Sami Zayn practiced his promo for the night while pacing through the halls, occasionally locking eyes with me.  Knowing he wasn’t actually talking to me and likely looking through me, it was odd not to respond and to look away.

Paul Heyman is giving advice to Bobby Lashley and Becky Lynch in front of me!

Who’s behind me?  Oh, just the Usos practicing their promo for the night.

Why did they turn those lights on?  Bobby Roode needed to film a promo…3 feet away from me.

Hey Ceasaro.  Just doing a quick post match interview while walking towards me?  Cool.

Speechless…Triple H and Vince McMahon just walked past to get to their position for the show.

Sorry for interrupting your filming, Iiconics.  Like you jokingly said to me, I won’t mess with the champs.

I tried to make my Raw debut but the director nixed it since it would be weird if I was the only one in the background.  Maybe next time.  I’ll give Baron Corbin a solo promo without me.

Becky Lynch and Alicia Fox put their match together right in front of me.  Becky wanted to practice a flying head scissors…so she did on the concrete floor.  Um…risky but did it flawlessly.

Don’t mind me Zack Ryder, Curt Hawkins, Bobby Lashley and Alexa Bliss.  Enjoy your conversation while I awkwardly stare at you.

The Usos just referred to me as "Uce".  I think we're family now.

My new family, the Usos

It couldn’t get any better than this overload of wrestling fandom, could it?  Welp, my supervisor had a different plan.  “Hey Ryan,” he says, “do you know how to work the freight elevator?”  Let’s be real.  I didn’t know we had a freight elevator, let alone how to work it.  “Talent is going to start leaving so come with me and I’ll show you how.”  The next two hours consisted of escorting WWE superstars from the arena to the freight elevator and taking them to the secret parking garage they could load up and leave the arena in peace.  Seriously, name a Raw superstar and I likely had an interaction of some sort.

Ruby Riott

The night ended and I was blown away with the crazy night at work.  Witnessing how the show, promos and matches were put together.  Observing this crazy business and happy culture that people were working in.  The graciousness of the performers with everyone they came into contact with.  It was really a fun environment to be part of.  I’m still a little surprised at how professional I was, not allowing myself to be the nerdy fan I am.  I’ll just leave it in the words of WWE Superstar Ruby Riott, “Man, you are so f***ing polite.”

Thank you, Ruby and WWE for a good time.  I got paid for this but I think I owe someone money for the memories.

I Thought I Was Fine...

You never realize how something affects you until you look back, years removed, and truly accept the damage that is done.  I’m relatively self-aware and have a general understanding of why I will do the things I do or act the way I do.  Granted, it’s not always as I’m still prone to making decisions that don’t make much sense.  However, I think I’ve grown to a point where, even in the middle of a questionable decision, my brain will be telling me that I need to control or change an action.

Emily and I in 2002 and again in 2018...

It wasn’t until this past Friday when I realized how damaged I was from an incident over 18 years ago.  I truly believed that I was so past the situation that nothing from it resonated into my life every day after.  Let me set the stage.  Last Friday I was continuing my streak of attending a movie with Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson on opening night; 17th movie in a row.  My girlfriend Emily was joining me, as well as her son Jackson.  Knowing we’d be picking Jackson up in Pleasant Hill, I thought it might be fun to see it at the theater that I was the manager for 18 years ago, as well as the place that brought Emily and I together all those years back.  See, I was managing the theater and she was a teller at the bank the company utilized.  I managed to utilize my awkward flirting and lack of game to go on a date.  Long story short, we dated, broke up and the universe brought us back together many years later.  Pretty amazing story, but I’ll get into that another time.

As we walked up to the theater, I started to feel a little weird.  They have done some improvements and renovations, but it was the same theater I spent over 70 hours a week in all those years ago.  I met some wonderful people there, people I have maintained amazing friendships with to this day.  I assumed the feelings I was going through were just nostalgia and flooding memories, nothing more sinister than that.  After we sat down, I excused myself to the restroom so I wouldn’t have to get up during the movie.  As I left the restroom, I glanced casually towards the west exit door.  Surrounded by glass bricks to the outside, it looks exactly like it did years before.  Then it hit me, like something in a horror movie.  Panic.  Anxiety.  Fear.  I went back into the theater, shaken, yet put on the mask of “nothing is wrong” and watched the movie.  While enjoying the movie, I couldn’t shake my anxiety and fear.  I would constantly shift in my seat, feeling trapped mentally and not knowing how to escape it.  Emily leaned over at one point and said, “We’re never coming back here.”  Her comment was a joke regarding the seats and how they weren’t the spacious recliner chairs we’ve grown accustomed to at other theaters.  I laughed and said, “Definitely not.”  The seats weren’t that great, but my issue was much deeper than that.  As the movie ended and we left, I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough, closing the door on ever returning there.

Back in the theater days with my BIGSEXY license plate

So I’m sure you’re wondering, “What about that door triggered such fear?”  To understand what happened we have to travel way back to 2001.  Buckle up because this story takes some time to get through.  Now, as I write this, I don’t remember the dates at all.  When you’re managing a movie theater, days and times tend to run together.  You’re always there and working.  You start associating movies with events, more so than the dates of anything.  I’ve blocked out the movies that were playing at that time but I do know it was summer of 2001.  The theater had always been fun.  I enjoyed my job, as I was surrounded by movies, great employees and customers.  However, this particular time frame was stressful.  There was some internal theft going on that I just couldn’t figure out.  My inventory count was always accurate, but the money never matched despite the register receipts being spot on.  It seemed like every shift had a shortage, so it was clear that someone was stealing.  Despite my best efforts to monitor everyone, the problem kept going.  I entrusted a couple of employees to assist me in figuring out the issue, telling them exactly what to look for.  Still, nothing.  Then came the Sunday evening where my assistant manager Derek called me at home.  He was frantically looking for the money bag from the matinee shows, only to come up empty.  As usual, I had placed it in the safe before leaving for the evening.  I drove across town to the theater to help in the search.  We tore that place up for hours and couldn’t find a thing.  It was well over $10,000 and it somehow grew legs and walked away.  Couple this with the inventory issues, I knew there was a major problem that was spiraling out of control.  I thought that I was doing a good job as a manager.  24 years old and I had been transferred around Iowa to help fix theaters that had managerial issues, but now I’m in a situation I can’t figure out.  Something odd happened the week after the money bag disappeared, though. My inventory counts and money were absolutely perfect.  There was not one penny unaccounted for.  While there was a mild relief, there was the unfortunate realization that an employee “Zack” (not his real name) who I trusted completely, was the one behind everything.  How did I figure that out?  “Zack” made the mistake of taking that week off.  He was the only one off that week and, miraculously, everything was fixed.  Remember when I said I entrusted a couple people to help me and I told them what to look for?  Yeah, he was one of them.  It was crushing.  He wasn’t just an employee.  He was a friend.  I trusted him with my car.  We played basketball together.  We hung out outside the theater and I never witnessed any red flags.  He was someone with a questionable past, but after we worked together and got to know each other, I thought he turned a page and his life would be positive.  Whoops.

I waited until the day before “Zack” was supposed to come back to work and then I called him.  I made some small talk, asking about his time off and making it seem like nothing was amiss.  Before we hung up I asked him to stop by the theater because I needed to talk to him.  He paused and said he’d come by later that night.  He never showed up.  I never mentioned to him that I solved the mystery, but he definitely knew what I needed to say.  Either he knew his guilt and just walked away, or his cousin “AC” (again, not a real name) who also worked with us (I didn’t tell him “Zack” was the culprit), told him that the mystery was solved, I don’t know.  I let him walk away and decided to move on.  Lesson learned, right?  Apparently his checkered past would be his future also.  I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

So I let things go.  I moved on with a more watchful eye of my employees, but also deeply hurt that my trust could be abused in that way.  Regardless, I suppressed that and tried not to punish others for what “Zack” did.

As we fast forward a couple of months, things were going well again.  My inventory, payroll and deposits were all excellent.  My employees were positive and we were back to the type of theater I enjoyed managing.  I took a weekend off to head to Omaha for a wedding.  It’s a quick drive so I went up Saturday, had a great time, stayed the night and drove back to work on Sunday night.  It was a relatively slow Sunday night, so I was catching up on some paperwork in my office.  While working on a report, out of the corner of my eye I saw a mouse run across the floor.  Startled because I’m a very clean individual and kept my theater clean, I became obsessed with finding this little rodent and disposing of it.  The next few hours saw me complete empty furniture out of my office, cleaning thoroughly, yet never finding the mouse.  The last movies were getting out a little after midnight while I finished getting my office back in order.  It had been roughly an hour of putting things back when I was finally finishing up.  It was a little later than I would normally be there at night, but that mouse had driven me nuts!  I emerged from my office and noticed, what I thought were police lights outside of the west door.  Flashing through the glass bricks were red and blue lights, while a shadowed figure was posed on one side of the glass bricks you can’t clearly see through.  I didn’t think anything of it, just assuming someone was pulled over, so I walked over and opened up the door.  My car was over there so I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.  When the door opened, I got a clear view of the shadowy figure by the door.  It was a Pleasant Hill police officer…with his gun drawn, pointing in the direction of my car.  Startled, I threw my hands up and proclaimed, “It’s Ryan.  The theater manager.”  The officer, who I recognized and who recognized me, sharply turned to me, lowered his gun and said, “Hey, Ryan.  How’s it going?”  Shocked, all I could say was, “I don’t know.  How am I?”  I will never forget his comment.  I still remember it vividly, just like it was yesterday, “We found a guy with a gun under your car.  There was another that we’re locating right now.  Go inside and relax.  We’ll come in momentarily and update you.”

The theater...good and bad memories....

So the relaxing part didn’t happen.  I was trembling, even shaking while I write this.  Why would anyone be under my car with a gun?  Who could it be?  Who is the second guy?  Were there any others?  I had stopped hunting the mouse in my office.  Now I felt like the prey.  The officers came in and assured me everything was okay.  They found the second suspect in the dumpster and were talking to a third man in a car up the street, likely the getaway driver.  The officer asked me if I was familiar with someone named…you guessed it, “Zack”.  I gave them a brief overview that he was a former employee that was let go due to theft.  Another officer came in and asked if I knew “AC”, who was in the car up the street.  “AC” denied knowledge of anything at theater and was “meeting with a girl”, but if your cousin is under your bosses car with a gun, you probably have some insight.  The third guy in the dumpster, “Samuel”, was someone I had met briefly but didn’t really know.

I asked the officers a couple of questions, but first on my mind was if the gun was loaded.  They told me it was a BB gun, which was a slight relief, but then they filled me in on the plan that “Zack” admitted to in the back of the squad car.  Their plan was to hide under my car, once I came out with the night deposit, jump me, rob me, pistol whip me and flee in “AC’s” car.  Luckily for me, and I didn’t know it at the time, but one of the night officers always drove by the theater around the time I left each night to make sure everything was good.  I have no idea how long they had been doing this, but I was lucky.  During his patrol, he noticed a dark figure under the back of my car.  He pulled into the parking lot, shined the light and insured my safety.  Had he not been doing that, who knows.  You just don’t know how severely I could have been beaten that night.  Who knows if I would even be here today without that officer, not just doing his job, but going above and beyond, at least in my mind?

I went home that night, shell shocked.  I don’t remember sleeping and constantly thinking about going back to the theater in the morning for work.  I was the first one in the building that morning and was scared to death until my employees started showing up.  Funny thing was, as I sat down at my desk, I heard a faint thumping sound.  I looked down into my trash can to find...the mouse.  I grabbed the trash can, walked outside and let him run out.  Without that little guy, who knows what would have happened to me.  It was quickly realized that word had spread about the near robbery and attack, as every employee did one of two things; keep their distance because they knew I was “off” that day, or stay really close to me and make sure I was okay.  There was no right or wrong way to deal with me that day.  All I knew is that I could tell each of them cared.  It was a very low point for me, but those kids did their best to pick me up and support me.  I spent most of that day in my office, sequestered from everyone and only coming out when I knew I had to.

You’d think that would be the end of that day, right?  Nothing is ever that easy.  Sometime in the afternoon there was a knock on my office door.  I looked through the peephole and saw…”AC”.  Yes, the same “AC” that was in the getaway car the night before.  I was panicked but let him in and acted as if I didn’t know his role in the situation.  He had his friend, “Kenny”, with him.  I knew him and he was such a good kid that I had no issue with him standing in the office with “AC”.  We closed the door and proceeded to talk.  He told me that “Zack” was bailed out so to be careful.  He mentioned that he was in the car up the street but didn’t know what was happening.  While I didn’t believe that, I never held ill feeling towards “AC”.  Him and I had an outstanding relationship and I think he was just a high school kid caught in between his loyalty to me and his cousin.  He didn’t know what to do.  I truly believe he stayed in the car and, like as ostrich, buried his head.  If he didn’t see what happened to me, it didn’t really happen.  At least that’s what I think his rationale was.  As he was about to leave, he reached into his pocket.  He unzips a little pouch and inside was a small pistol.  He tried handing it to me, worried that “Zack” was going to come back and finish what he started.  I put my hands out and said, “Don’t want it.”  “AC” was confused and, with a very concerned tone, told me he wasn’t sure what “Zack” was capable of.  I looked “AC” in the eyes and said, “Tell him this.  If I have an ass whipping coming to me, then I have an ass whipping coming to me.  I don’t want to be a part of what you’re handing me.”  He put it away and left.  Obviously, he never worked for me again either.  Everyone parted ways.  I never saw “AC” again, but still hope he’s doing well.

Of course I would go on to hear from “Zack” again.  I was at the Iowa State Fair with friends that next summer.  We had been doing a little drinking, so I was feeling good.  As the group was walking the fairgrounds, I glanced up and saw “Zack” standing with a friend.  We caught eyes and he seemed to jump back in his skin, unsure of me.  I walked right towards him.  I can only imagine what was racing through his mind.  I walked up, hand outstretched, slapped hands with him, brought him in for a hug and said, “Nothing happened.”  He stood there, shocked, and I walked away.  One of the group asked me who that was and I said the guy who tried to rob me.  She punched me in the arm.  I explained it as, hopefully a moment he can look back on and say, “That was my turning point to a better life.  Despite everything I put him through, he believed in a different side of me.”

I heard from him one other time, a few weeks after the fair.  He left a message on the answering machine at the theater.  In one of the craziest moments showing a true lack of self-awareness, he asked me to call him back if he could put me down as a job reference.  No, I’m not kidding.  The guy who stole a bank deposit, thousands of dollars from the registers and tried to rob me called to ask for a job reference.  I still laugh at that one.

I have occasionally looked up “Zack” over the years.  Sadly, he didn’t take the message away I had hoped.  He has had many run-ins with the law and is currently in prison until 2025.  You can’t help who doesn’t want to be helped.

So, yeah, that door with the glass bricks triggered those memories.  I had to come to the realization that, 18 years ago, that moment caused a level of trauma I never really dealt with.  I’ve struggled to trust people since then.  I’ll push people away for the littlest of things.  Even those closest to me will see me occasionally push away, not because of anything they did, but because of the trauma of this whole situation ripped me apart more than I ever truly knew.  I’ve had people turn their back on me since then and I just let it happen, assuming they were using me for whatever they needed at that time in their life.  I also became quite paranoid.  I moved apartments quickly after, unlisted my phone number and even held off on things like MySpace and Facebook until later because I scared being found.  I still look behind and under my car to this day.  I have cameras in my house.  My paranoia isn’t as dominating as it once was, but it will always be there.  It also changed my perception of people.  I used to always see the positive in everyone, but I’m not as naïve anymore.  I still look for the positive, but I won’t push aside the red flags like I once did.

I honestly hate that I’m not as trusting, that I’ll push away, complicate things that aren’t there and have a paranoid side.  I’ve been scarred in a way that I don’t believe can be changed back.  Then again, I wouldn’t want to go back.  Everything that I learned through this and subsequent experiences have brought me to who and where I am today.  I may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I think I’m a pretty good guy who tries to learn from everything.

I hadn’t been back to that theater in 17 years.  I’m glad I did, because I can write this and put that situation in my rearview mirror.  That said, I will never step foot in that place again.  Why go through something painful if you don’t have to?  After getting through it as best as I could, I tattooed my back with the words “Only the Strong Survive”.  Inspired by a logo shirt of Allen Iverson, most just thought I was using Iverson’s logo as a cool tattoo, which it is, but it meant so much more.  I put on the exterior strength but never really appreciated the internal strength I would need to push through issues that arose because of this.

Apparently I’m still learning how to deal with the impact of this situation.  I’ve forgiven and moved on, but how do you heal internal pain?  My best answer…get up and keep moving.  You can’t let anything or anyone control what you feel.

If only it were that easy…