It's the sort of thing that happens to other people. For most of us, fortunately, being mugged is not part our normal, everyday experience.
But that can change very quickly. It did for Holly Hadfield.
Hadfield lives near St. Joseph's Catholic Church, a neighborhood with a beautiful canopy of trees and expensive, older homes. At the end of May, on a hot spring night, Hadfield was mugged on East Aloha Street near 18th Avenue East as she walked home.
A dance and performance artist, she graduated from Cornish College of the Arts in 1998 and moved to Europe for three years. Returning in 2001, Hadfield has danced with a wide variety of companies. She now works out of a local studio within walking distance of her home, teaches dance and movement and works as a waitress three nights a week to help with bills.
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In what strikes her as something of an ironic twist, Hadfield moved to her apartment near the Tully's on 19th Avenue East in part to settle in a quieter and seemingly safer area than her previous apartment on Belmont Avenue near East Pine Street.
"There was always something going on outside my old apartment, drug deals, loud arguments. The police were always showing up for something. I wanted to get away from it," she said.
She found a nice and quieter apartment toward the end of May. On the evening of May 27, a Friday, about a week after she moved in, she needed some laundry change. It was nearly midnight, but she chose to walk the short distance to the QFC on 15th.
It was one of the warmest nights of the year. People crowded the shopping district.
"There were lots of people outside. Obviously I am aware of walking around at night as a single women. But it was active outside, well lit and it had always felt safe," she said.
She remembers the attack in vivid detail. Her errand done, Hadfield walked north on 15th and turned right down East Aloha Street. She became aware of a change in mood as she crossed 17th. The leafy tree cover rendered the sidewalks very dark. In response, she started walking in the middle of the street, which the streetlights partially illuminated.
At one point she heard a pop, like a broken branch or someone stepping on a tree root. She thought it might have been a dog, but she quickened her pace. A car drove up behind her. Its headlights made the street much brighter for a few moments. Crossing 18th, near St. Joseph's Catholic Church, with Tully's in sight, Hadfield felt a sense of relief.
"There were people standing around by Tully's. I felt I'd cleared the danger of the dog, or whatever it was. I thought I'd passed it," she said.
She was wrong.
She heard another noise, looked over her shoulder and saw a man approach her nonchalantly. But she knew something was wrong. The man was sprinting at her by then. Hadfield screamed bloody murder, basically confronting the man, yelling at him as loud as she could. He raised one hand, put a finger to his lips as if to say, "Shhh!." He lunged for her neck with his other.
Hadfield tried to get out of the way. But his hand struck her on her back. The street slopes steeply at this point; Hadfield fell down and slid along the gravel and grass. When she hit the ground her small wallet, which she'd been carrying, fell out of her hand. The man grabbed it and bolted into the darkness.
The entire incident took a few seconds.
Hadfield got up. She was in shock. Her left leg was bleeding heavily and her left arm was bleeding as well. There was a vivid rush of thoughts and emotions.
"My clothes were covered in blood but I felt like I could run a marathon," she said.
Hadfield walked down to Tully's - no one had come up to her. She saw someone with a cell phone and had him to call the police. One officer in particular was calm and helpful, giving her the space she needed before answering questions.
Paramedics treated her at the scene, and the police officers took her home. She spent the night at a friend's house. In the morning, with a clearer head, she went to the hospital. Hadfield suffered multiple abrasions. She also suffered a severely sprained ankle, sprained her knee and spine and had a case of whiplash.
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During the first few days after the attack, Hadfield told everyone she knew about it. It was a form of therapy and an almost physical reaction to what had happened to her. She's since become more reserved about the subject. But she thinks it's an important story to tell. If it happened to her, she said, it can happen to anybody.
"Part of me is hesitant to talk about it. But part of me still just wants people to know," she said. "It's also part of facing up to my responsibility for what happened to me."
And she took action. A few weeks after the mugging, Hadfield printed up 150 fliers telling that a mugging had taken place on 18th and Aloha. She posted them around the neighborhood, in numerous businesses along 15th Avenue East and also several locations along Broadway. She'll likely print up and post another set in a week or so.
It's a way for her to let people know that vigilance is needed. For one thing, her assailant is still out there. And it was a way for Hadfield to assert herself, to take control of the situation and feel less like a victim.
She hasn't been able to work in her studio since the attack; it will probably be another week before her body can start getting back to dance. There has been a lot of physical therapy, visits to the chiropractor, appointments with a therapist. The financial ramifications are also a concern. Hadfield was put in contact with the Victims of Violent Crimes Fund, which will likely be able to help. And many health providers have been very generous with their time.
"The health care I've received has been nothing short of incredible. People's generosity has been amazing. There's a lot of love out there," she said.
Beyond the physical and emotional recovery, Hadfield is aware that her world view has changed. She regards her community differently now, is personally aware of crime on the Hill rather than having only an intellectual awareness. She's learned that similar assaults are far more common than she'd imagined. Her notion of personal freedom has changed as well:
"I'm still coming to terms with it. I can tell that I'm still afraid. I've become hyper-vigilant. At the same time I work at being calm. I know I'm OK. So there are a lot of different emotions happening at once."
In the larger picture, Hadfield knows she was very fortunate.
"I feel really lucky," she said. "I got away from this guy. I'm very aware of how much worse this could have been."
Doug Schwartz is the editor of the Capitol Hill Times. He can be reached at editor@capitolhilltimes.com or 461-1308.[[In-content Ad]]
