‘Are you Timi’s parents?’ It was a rhetorical question really. The incandescent man before me was the spitting image of the boy, but with about twenty-five years’ extra wear and tear. The woman with him looked a seesawing tussle of upset and ropable.
‘Where is he? Where is the little shit? I can’t believe we’ve been called down to the police station at this hour.’ This was delivered with a fair amount of gusto, and given the fact he was at least a foot taller than me and clearly agitated, it was rather intimidating. ‘Wait till I get my hands on him.’
No one was going to be getting their hands on Timi anytime soon. Given the circumstances, we’d taken the exceptional act of letting him use the showers, and found him some clean clothing – although, alas, it was police-custody issue. Our youth-liaison officer was still with him, having accompanied the poor young lad through the process of being photographed, swabbed and examined for forensic evidence, before finally being able to cleanse himself of the woman’s blood. He hadn’t been formally interviewed yet – that was still to come, and in the light of day – but we knew enough to realise he’d had the kind of night you wouldn’t wish upon anyone, let alone a teenage boy.
‘Hi, I’m Detective Sam Shephard.’ I reached out to shake Thomas Felipo’s hand, and as my arm extended his eyes dropped, took in my extremely rotund midriff, and with an almost apologetic look cautiously took my hand. Whoever thought a pregnant belly could so effectively defuse a pissed-off parent. In fact, there had been a number of occasions when my condition had helped calm a situation, which was a good thing, because if it came to beating a hasty retreat, I was now in waddle rather than run mode.
‘Come through, let me explain the situation.’
The stark lighting in the family interview room did nothing to soften the expressions of anger that morphed into horror, then disbelief, on the faces of Timi Felipo’s parents. It was now 1.00am, and I was quite sure the lighting was doing me no favours either. Sina Felipo sat silent, her hands clasped in her lap as she struggled to absorb the events of the night and what it meant for her son. Her husband for the most part was fixated on why Timi was out in the first place and was barraging me with questions about the tagging. I don’t know if it was a deflection thing, but he was completely missing the point about the extraordinary actions of his son, and the profound effect it was likely to have on him. I was tired and borderline hangry, and it took immense patience to calmly redirect his focus away from the fact his teenager had been out vandalising public places with his mates, to the fact that he had committed an act of incredible bravery and humanity.
‘Yes, he was down the laneway with a group of his friends tagging, and there is no way I can condone that,’ I said, for what felt like the millionth time. ‘But what he did was remarkable. When all his friends ran off because they were scared of what they had seen and of being caught and potentially blamed, he chose to stay. He chose to stay with a horrendously injured woman, who he knew was probably going to die, right there and then. He offered her what comfort he could, he made sure she didn’t die alone. That is an incredible thing for anyone to do in those circumstances, let alone a sixteen-year-old boy. You should be very proud of him.’
‘But he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. We brought him up better than that.’
‘We thought he was at his friend Oscar’s house to study, not out on the streets. He lied to us.’ It was the first time Sina had really participated in the conversation, and I felt disappointed that she too chose to take the offended-parent angle.
‘True, he was doing something wrong. But when it came to the crunch, he made the courageous choice.’
‘So, what will happen to him now?’ she asked.
‘Well, for a start, the most important thing is that he is supported and looked after. He’s had a big shock. He witnessed the result of an awful, vicious crime, and he was alone with a dying person. That is a lot to deal with, so he’ll have our counsellors spend time with him and talk him through all that. There was no way he could have prevented her dying, so we have to make sure he knows that in his heart of hearts. That is where it will be really important for you to support him and keep an eye on him.’
‘But will he be charged for the tagging?’ Thomas asked.
‘That I can’t say for sure. The circumstances are pretty unique, and the trauma he has suffered will be taken into account, I’m sure. Before all that, though, he’ll have to make a statement about tonight, and ultimately, when we do find out who was responsible for this heinous crime, he may have to appear in court to testify. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, take him home for some sleep, and bring him back in the morning so we can take his statement.’
I hoped to God they had listened to my words about support, and focussed on how brave their son had been and what an awful experience he’d been through. Although I suspected there would be harsh words about why he was in the alleyway in the first place.
What that boy needed was hugs not hassle.