Last night someone was murdered about 50 yards from my door. It wasn't murder when we first knew about it - the guy (as it turned out) was on a drip. You could see the policewoman holding the plastic bag up high - catching the light in the gloom.
We stood repectful-like behind the gates to our walk, watching the paramedics at work but the police still grimaced when they turned to look at us. When they covered his face we knew he had died. A policeman stuck blue and white tape up in front of us and tersley said 'There's nothing more for you to see.' As if we thought we were at a film show. 'We live here!' I wanted to shout.
I'm sure that they have their own experiences of doing this horrible job that cause them to look at us like this - the whole estate seemed to be hanging over railings and walkways and gathering on corners. Very likely some of the people who did it were amongst us watching.
There had been a huge commotion earlier passing through the estate it seemed. Indecipherable words from throats stressed with shouting. Then they must all have left him - he was found alone. All the protagonists and defenders just vanished into the estate leaving him bleeding to death on the patch of paving I cross nearly every day when I walk to the tube station. 21 years old and his blood has already seeped between the stones and part of him will remain forever under our feet.
Another young man stands in shock with tears starting in his eyes that will not fall and a young girl sobs in a comforter's arms. After the death there is no rush anymore - just waiting around for the forensic's tent, the people in attendance start to chat about ordinary stuff, paramedics pack up their kit and leave.
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