Last night I heard a domestic dispute.
“Domestic dispute” is probably what it would be called in a police incident report, but the polite phrase doesn’t do justice to the violent screaming I heard. A man was roaring vile words at a woman, calling her a “c**t”, and “look what you make me do”, and the woman was screaming in apparent terror.
I was safe behind the locked door of my AirBnb apartment in central Sydney, and yet I didn’t call the police.
Sitting here today, it is difficult to explain exactly why I didn’t make that call. I was alone in a strange city for the first time and I didn’t know anyone, so I was scared. I had seen some rough-looking people around the apartment complex, and I was mostly afraid that if I did call the police to report the dispute, I would somehow be identified. Perhaps the police officers would come up to my apartment to talk to me, and everyone would know that it was me; that I was the snitch.