It was on a warm Friday night, and I was enjoying a leisurely drive to my home on the west side of Phoenix, Ariz. I had been to the stock car races at the local dirt track. It was getting late, and both my truck and I were covered in a layer of dirt. A shower was going to feel great.
About a mile from home, I noticed a small person fighting two larger people next to a car on the side of the road. I slowed and pulled to the side behind the combatants' car. As my lights fell on them, I saw a young, black girl was fighting with two men; one white, one black. The men were trying to force her into their old, beat up, car. She was doing all she could to resist getting in that car.
I pulled to within two car lengths behind their car and retrieved my pistol from the truck's glove compartment. Stepping out of my truck, but staying behind the door, I aimed my pistol at the larger of the two men, and loudly called to them. "Hold it, guys! Ma'am, do you need help?"
My high beams were making it difficult for the people at the car to see me, but I had a very clear view of them. The white guy yelled back, "Who the fuck are you?"
I raised my semi-auto pistol into view, cycled the slide loading a round into the chamber, and in my best in charge voice, I replied. "A guy that'll blow your fuckin' head off, if I have to."
The two men instantly stopped fighting the girl. Without moving my sight from the larger man, I again asked, "Ma'am, do you need help?"
"Yes! Please!" Her voice quivered. She seemed to be near tears.
"Get in the truck!" I ordered.
As the girl ran toward my truck's passenger side, I told the two men, "You two get in that piece of shit, and get the fuck out of here." They didn't seem too interested in arguing the point with me, or my pistol. Both men jumped into the car, and they sped off.
By the time the men were gone, the girl had gotten into the passenger side of my truck, closed the door, and sat as close to the door as she could.
I drove a couple of blocks to the nearest convenience store with a well lit lot. In the light from the store's lot, I was able to get a good look at my passenger.
She was shaking like a leaf in a storm and sobbing quietly. Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks. Even with her face streaked with tears, I could see she was a very nice looking young lady. She had light cocoa colored skin and fine features. Her hair, soft and straight, fell softly past her shoulders to her upper back. She looked to be in her early twenties with a slight build.
"It's OK now. They're gone. You'll be fine. I've got plenty of time. Where do you need to go?" I asked.
Through her sobs, she said, "I don't know." She then burst into a full blown cry. The tears flooded down her face.
I put my pistol away and lightly placed my hand on her shoulder. "It's OK. You're going to be fine. Are you hurt?"
She shook her head no.
We sat in the store lot for maybe five minutes until here sobs subsided. I asked, "What was that all about? Would you like to call the police?"
She again shook her head no.
"Would you like to get something to eat or drink?
"No. I...I don't have...I don't think so."
"I'll buy." I interrupted.
"Could I have a Coke, please, if you don't mind."
She agreed when I suggested she use the store's restroom to freshen up while I bought our Cokes. As she returned to my truck, I could see she was a tiny thing standing about 4" 11" tall and weighing less than 100 pounds. Her straight, black hair framed her round face. She had stopped crying and even tried to smile as I handed her the Coke. She was still shaking but had calmed down a little. As she sipped her Coke, she began to relax a little.
"Would you like to talk? You don't have to, but it might make you feel better."
She looked at me and nodded yes.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Jasmine! Most of my friends just call me Jay." She replied.
"I'd like to be your friend. May I call you Jay?"
A smile began to form on her lips. She nodded and said, "That would be fine."
"Well, my friend Jay, I'm hungry, how about you?"
"Yes, but my purse is in that car, and I don't have any money."
"That's OK! I'll buy. Are you sure you don't want to call the police?"
"No. There's nothing important in my purse anyway. I only had a few dollars, and my ID is in my pocket. I just wish I had grabbed my clothes when I jumped out though."