I recall waking up one night and seeing this red and blue illunination inside our house. I ran into our mother’s room but she was not there.
I looked outside through the window adn I saw a police car parked outside. Its lights were on and there was a police officer standing on our front porch.
He was having words with our parents. I heard him ask our mother if she wished to proceed with the prosecution. She told the officer she just wanted him to tell her husband not to touch her or her son again.
The officer told her he could not protect her unless she proceeded with a prosecution. Our mother declined to prosecute and the officer proceeded to leave.
As he left our father peppered him with racial and bigoted abuse. The officer warned the drunken man that he would prosecute him if he continued.
He became quit and the officer left.
I later learned that our mother had called the police because she had been arguing with our drunken father, who became physically abusive.
Baby Leslie witnessed his mother’s plight and tried to come to her rescue. The baby ran onto the porch and slapped his father with whatever force a baby can muster.
According to our mom, our father then struck the little baby boy with all his strength, the baby squealed out and became unconscious.
She then proceeded to call the police. Leslie was always a hero for his mother.
Author’s note: The exact date and time of the following events are not known. They have had to be approximated in order to post the content.
Leslie was always a hero for his mother, however, she rarely the hero for him.
I recall in his earlier years of life, our mother did little if anything to save him from his father’s attacks.
I recall having to run into her room and try to get her to get out of bed to save him. She would ask waht was wrong and I would tell her and she would look at me and tell me that she needed her sleep!
Other times, the oldman would be attacking the baby and our mother would be in the bathroom applying Ambi skin cream to herself. I would plead with her to get up and relive the child’s suffering. She could hear his crys, his screams but she seemed unconcerned.
It wasn’t until I told my entire primary school classroom including the teacher what was happening at home, how I feared that my brother’s life would be taken one day soon, that she started show some concern.
She really changed her behavior after this incident.