My oldest daughter was chatting to me about her new apartment when I saw the one guy lunge at the other. “Oh my god!” I gasped into the cell phone. My husband swung our truck to the curb and leapt out before I could say anything further. Across I Street, in front of the courthouse, the assault continued – the lunger pummeling the white-haired protestor against the chainlink fence blocking the lawn. 

In the few moments it took for Bobby to race down the block, other members of the Occupy group had intervened, separating the perpetrator from his victim. The aggressor returned to his car, yelling, and sped off. My husband talked to the clearly shaken protestors, who relayed that the driver had indeed pulled over, charged out of his car, grabbed the old man’s sign, chucked it over the fence and then started swinging. Why? He was yelling something about being pissed off that the protestors supported “taxing the rich.”

I wanted photos, but the poor guy was already shook up and worried about attention from the cops, Bobby said, so we left things at, “How awful!” (Compassion 1, Journalism 0)

Well, I left things at, “How awful!” Bobby continued to rant. “I wish I’d been there faster,” he said. “I’d have yelled at that guy, ‘What are you doing, beating up an old man?’” That should give a person pause, he went on, people pointing out the unfairness. 

“Yeah, well, then he’d probably have just started punching you,” I countered. 

“So what?” Bobby answered. “I saw him. He was a big guy, but he sure wasn’t swinging well. I’d rather have him get into it with me than that old guy anyway.” Ah, my husband and his reasoning.

No one managed to quite get the license plate number, unfortunately. Whatever one’s stance on the Occupy movement in general and the Eureka courthouse protest scene in particular, a random assault on an elderly man – on anyone – is 100 percent awful.