Late one Saturday afternoon, a young man called John finished work at St James's Hospital. He ran out to the bus stop just in time to see his bus driving off up the road. It was a long walk home, but he couldn't afford a taxi; and he'd walked it before. Anyway, it looked like it was going to be a fine evening, and he thought it would be nice to walk up through Gledhow Valley.
So he set off down through Harehills, cut across Roundhay Road, and into the woods. He'd not gone far when he saw three youths walking towards him. They were a bit rowdy, and to be honest he didn't like the way they looked at him, and he was right; he thought they were going to walk on past, but before he could do anything, one of them punched him in the stomach while the others grabbed his arms. He tried to fight back, but that didn't help at all; they gave him a good kicking, and as he lay on the ground they went through his pockets till they found his wallet; and the last thing he remembered before he passed out, was hearing them run away. One of them was laughing. He never really had time to get a good look at them. Two of them were white, but the only one he could remember at all afterwards was the tall black youth with a diamond ear stud, and a scar over his right eye. John lay, drifting in and out of consciousness, half hidden at the side of the road, difficult for anyone to notice who was driving past. It was some time before someone came walking by.
Mrs Goodbody had set off early to church this evening; tonight was a very special occasion. After twenty-six years as part of the Women's Meeting, she had been asked to give a little talk. She had worked very hard at it, and put together a display board with photographs, which she had set up earlier that afternoon. It had been a lot of work, but she hoped it would be worth it. She was rather nervous about it, but people were generally very appreciative. She couldn't believe her eyes when she looked across the road, and saw someone lying there, half-hidden in the shadows.
She thought it must be a trick of the light, since it was beginning to get dark. It quite distracted her.
"They'll be drunk" she said to herself. "Or worse. On drugs or something."
She almost stopped for a moment. She really didn't know what to do. She felt she ought to go and see what was the matter, but she was frightened. And actually she felt a bit angry, because she really needed to get to church soon. "I knew I should have left more time."
Then she felt sort of guilty for feeling angry, and she almost went to see what was wrong, when she remembered something she'd seen on Crimewatch, how this young man had pretended to be injured, and when someone went to help him, they got attacked by a whole gang. And what could she do anyway? It wasn't as if she was trained in first aid or anything. Better to leave this sort of thing to people who know what they're doing. No-one could possibly expect her to do anything different. So she went on again, quite briskly, in case the whole gang came after her. It was all quite upsetting really. She was still shaking when she got to church. In fact, she rather felt she didn't do justice to herself in giving her little talk. Which was such a shame, after twenty-six years.
About an hour after Mrs Goodbody had gone, someone else passed near to where John was lying unconscious. He was a Social Worker, who only the week before had been appointed Youth Development Officer. He looked down at John, and immediately realized what had happened.
"Whoever did this needs help." he said to himself. "This is a primary example of how lack of proper funding has left local youth no other outlet for their very reasonable frustrations."
As he thought about it, he quite liked the phrase very reasonable frustrations, and decided to use it in the presentation he was on his way to give, to a possible source of funding. Part of him wondered about doing something to help, but he knew that for the first month in post it was vital not to get involved. If he got called as a witness it wouldn't help him to get alongside the local youth; and it was them, after all, that he was supposed to be helping. It could jeopardise the whole thing. It was a shame in a way, but there was no point getting emotive about it. Sometimes a short-term goal had to be sacrificed in favour of long-term gains. If he went on quickly, he could phone the appropriate agency anonymously, and that would probably do more good anyway.
Another hour went by. John began to come round again. He half-opened his eyes to see someone coming towards him. It was a tall black youth, walking with a swagger. "You alright mate?" he said. John was barely conscious. He tried to say something, but just groaned. The young man standing above him took his jacket off, and laid it over him. Then he got a mobile out of his pocket, and phoned 911. "You'll be alright, mate" he said to John. "Help's coming." He waited till the ambulance came, and then went with him to Casualty. The last thing John remembered was seeing his face bend over him, and saying. "You're going to be fine, right? Take Care." Then he left. It was a few days before John was ready to leave hospital. He decided he'd better get a taxi this time; "That's all taken care of," said the nurse; "your friend, that brought you in, he left some money for a taxi home for you."
On his way home, John thought about his anonymous friend, his Good Samaritan. And as he began to think, he suddenly realized what it was that was so familiar about him; it was the diamond ear stud, and the scar over his right eye.
Author: Roger Quick
Editors Note: This story was written for people living in (North) Leeds who are in a mainly white community. It would be best to adapt the story to suit the people listening. Firstly, you should use a location known to your group. If you can't think of a suitable route from a local hospital, just think of a quiet walk or one that you find a little 'spooky' and a reason why you might be forced to make it. Secondly, you need to choose the appropriate ethnic, religious or social group for the "Good Samaritan" and, of course, for the one attacker remembered by the victim. You therefore need to identify a group that your listeners would mistrust or at least not have high expectations of. The Samaritan in the original story represented a group that were disliked and mistrusted by the Jews. Samaritans were not normally considered 'good'. Don't forget that the other two attackers should be from your listeners own grouping.