Blindsided

Signs

Recognize the signs.

Before crossing the street look both way for cars. Don't walk alone at night. Whenever going to your car at night keep a key gripped tightly between your fingers. A weapon is better than no weapon.

There are always signs. The raise of hair on the back of your neck. A too quiet night that leaves your instincts on high alert. A car beeping. The rush of traffic for you to get back onto the sidewalk. The footsteps you think you're hearing, but no one is there. Your best instincts are your gut feelings.

Recognize those signs.

Kim Mingu was a public defender, an attorney assigned to defend criminals in the court of law. Mainly because those people cannot afford one. Namjoo's father was a man whose life involved criminals.

The public did not see them kindly. When his cases made front page news, the public jarred at their family.

Namjoo's father was a loyal man. He had married his high school sweet heart, who had supported him through law school. When Shinae got pregnant they cried together. Namjoo was their only child. A pink nosed baby who cried throughout the night.

Her father was a man of faith. He believed in second chances, so he jumped into his career headstrong, with his own principles. He was a man of determination. Sometimes not home, but she saw him on television and boasted about him. Instead, the public pointed fingers at her.

There was a case of a college student who raped a female behind a dumpster. Evidence discovered bloodied keys, pens, bottles as other tools on the crime scene. The case was so horrid the public lashed against the college student. Crying for him to receive a lifetime sentence. Protesting on social media, spread his pictures, riot outside the courthouse, created petitions to send their message across.

That was her father's case.

That college student served two years in jail with 236 hours of community service.

Their house was egged for the first time, but that was not the only incident. On a walk home one late afternoon when her mother had to run errands, Namjoo found her house on fire. They lost everything.

Her father, a man of strong will moved the family out into the country – not really, but to the rural area two miles outside of the capital. The area was surrounded by forests, lush green plants, planted fields, the distant blue and purple mountains. A tiny community of less than 50 dwelled in this tiny area.

Miraculously, no, Namjoo's father did not build them a house. They moved onto the land owned by a crook and his wife. Ha Sanghwa and Ha Ganghee. Mr. Ha gone to jail for larceny who her father had represented. Now he had turned around, gotten married, and was foraging for himself – repenting is what the adults called it.

Mr. Ha had a long face with folding lines under his eyes. His mustache grew back in by evening no matter how many mornings he shaved. Namjoo constantly saw the shadow covering his chin from jaw to jaw all the way up to his ears, but that was not the only shadow Namjoo saw.

Mrs. Ha was a busty thing. She had big breasts that threatened to pop whatever she wore. On one too many occasions her mother had muttered the shame of flashing them so often when they were alone in their house. They're good people her father would chide, lets not speak ill of them. And that would be that.

Their house was not made of straw or resemble an ancient mud slacked house slapped together like in the dynasty ages. It was a small compact home with plastered walls coated in a creamy yellow color. Electricity ran through every room. An updated version of a flat round television set sat in their living room. The home consisting of utilities for everyday needs just like when she was in the city. Felt like she never moved at all.