Interrupting an Armed Robbery on Chapel Street

I was walking through Chapel Street on my way home from work.

It was about 2 in the afternoon, and my housemate C had messaged me asking if I could grab him some cigarettes. “Yeah, no worries,” I replied.

As I crossed the road near the KFC, I suddenly heard a woman screaming.

At first, I thought maybe someone was just messing around with friends.

But something about it didn’t sit right. I followed the sound.

Inside a nearby shop, a guy about my age was behind the counter holding a huge machete. He was wrestling with the store attendant, a young girl.

This was an armed robbery.

“Open the register!” he shouted.

“No!” she cried back.

I walked inside.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

He stopped.

The entire room fell into silence.

Outside, people were still walking down Chapel Street, completely unaware of what was happening.

She was hurt, he had cut her.

But intuitively, I knew it wasn’t deliberate.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

He just wanted the money.

He was desperate. Only desperate people do these kinds of things.

But she had put up a fight.

I don’t think he expected that.

Maybe he thought she’d just step aside and let him do what he came to do.

But she had the heart of a lion.

She refused.

Then I walked in.

And just like that, he backed off.

He walked calmly out from behind the counter, straight toward me.

I stood there. I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I just watched.

He never looked me in the eye.

He just passed me with that big machete still in hand and walked out the door onto the street with purpose, but no real hurry.

I turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “But I’ve been cut.”

She told me she was a foreigner. That this was her first day at work. She was crying.

I felt so sad for her.

A man came over from across the road.

He said he’d seen what happened and had taken photos of the guy.

I was relieved.

The adrenaline started to settle, but my mind was still spinning.

This could have gone really badly. What if he’d stabbed me?

But also what if I hadn’t walked in?

It’s hard to put into words how I felt. There were so many what-ifs. It was all so surreal.

The police arrived a few minutes later. One constable took my statement. I explained what I saw, and after a short while, I was free to go.

I went home and sat with it.

I didn’t have any answers. I still don’t.