To The Thomas Pages homepage Episode of Gratitude – 6
Attempted Assassination
During my years in London, UK, I lived in a ground floor apartment in Bollo Lane, Acton, directly opposite the Acton Town underground tube station and near a bus terminus. While there, I became aware of crack cocaine dealing and began keeping a record of what I saw: date, time, place, description. After it grew to several pages, I went to the nearest Metropolitan Police headquarters and gave them my record of the drug-dealing. They appointed a police liaison officer to me and warned me that no one should know of the information I gave them or I would be "taken out" and the person sent to assassinate me would not be one of the dealers I would recognise.
After about 14-months of continuing to supply the Metropolitan police with information without seeing any result, I confront their local drug squad and warn that if they did not get rid of the drug dealers in my neighbourhood (who gave samples to local teenagers to get them 'hooked') I would get rid of them myself.
Very respectfully, they responded to me that I would get myself killed. I replied that as a South African I knew how to watch my back, to which they then answered that I had no right to take the law into my own hands. I responded that, as I was also a UK citizen and that we voted for governments to appoint agencies such as themselves, that if they failed to do the job and 'dropped the ball', it rolled back into the hands of the electorate, and it was therefore my responsibility, and I left the meeting.
The following day one of those officer visited me to ask for copies of all I had supplied because it had previously been sent to their Intelligence Analysis Unit and nothing had reached them. I gave him copies of my records and photos, and after that he then phoned me every Friday afternoon for an update.
Within about 6½-weeks, all drug dealing in my area was gone! I asked him what had happened, and was told that one dealer was now in a youth-offenders institute, another was in prison, and the rest of the drug-dealers had 'run for cover'.
Iate Friday afternoon, and I was heading back home to Acton on the underground railway's Piccadilly line, when suddenly all trains came to a halt, and mine was stuck at Hammersmith station. Another train then pulled in on the other side of the same platform, on the District line, which I thought would also pass my home station, so I hopped trains, but as it pulled away I then discovered that it had changed course to head down toward Kew Gardens, so I jumped off again at the next station, thought of waiting for a bus to Acton, but it was getting late, already dark, and so I decided to walk home.
I had no idea that what I saw as a disruptive delay was actually part of God's plan for me.
The disruption meant that instead of me crossing from the tube station on Bollo Lane across to my apartment as usual, I was now walking up from Chiswick along Bollo Lane toward Acton. The long Bollo Lane also ran through an industrial area (no shops or houses) between these two suburbs and so, because it was now late and dark, there was virtually no one around.
As I walked up Bollo Lane, an expensive-looking two-door yellow sports car came driving very slowly down Bollo Lane, slower than walking speed, driven by a young black man. The moment he saw me, his eyes locked onto me, swung his car to the curb, and opened his door – without taking his eyes off me. As he did so, suddenly a car came fast around the corner and nearly took his door off! He yanked it back, and swung it open again, still without taking his eyes off me, and then suddenly a motorbike came speeding around the corner almost into his car door (two-door cars tend to have longer doors). Again he yanked his door back without taking his eyes of me, but by this time I had now passed him and was going under the bridge behind him. In anger, he hit his accelerator without correcting the steering. His front left wheel hit the sidewalk as his rear tires spun, sending up a stream of smoke.
I knew that I had been his target, but the Lord, the God of Mercy, had 'watched my back'. Hallelujah!
Blessed be His name!