When the cops arrived and found out why a man was standing on a car and crushing it with a sledgehammer, they were just shocked.
A harsh, dull sound, as if someone had struck a thick sheet of metal with extraordinary force, abruptly echoed along a narrow street in the ancient area. Onlookers recoiled and spun around. It was clear where the noise came from: an old gray-haired man with a large sledgehammer in both hands stood on the roof of a white truck.
With each blow, the dread in their eyes deepened as everyone froze in shock. Paint and metal fragments rained onto the road, the roof was already heavily dented, and the metal moaned and bowed under his feet. Once intact, the van’s windshield was now cracked and broke into little pieces with each sledgehammer swing. There was a dull thump, a metallic ring, and an echo that reverberated down the street with every new swing.
As he struck, the man said something; the words merged into a raspy torrent, where only screams and phrase fragments could be heard, resembling fervent prayers or profanities. The elderly man’s words were incomprehensible to everyone in the vicinity.
A shaky-handed bystander picked up his phone and dialed the cops. The street was filled with sirens a few minutes later. Two officers rushed toward the van as a patrol car suddenly came to a stop. They removed the sledgehammer from the man’s hands and carefully but firmly assisted him in descending from the roof.
Nobody could have predicted what would happen once he hit the ground. There was no resistance from the man. He put his hands over his head, sat on the curb, and started to cry in private. As they sat next to him, the officers asked inquiries and tried to figure out what had transpired.
Everything became evident pretty quickly. His son had been in a horrific accident a few days prior. Despite their best efforts, doctors were unable to save his life.
His son had perished in the same vehicle that he was currently wrecking. The old man’s heart broke every time he looked at it.
He was reminded of the tragedy by every little detail and every scratch. At one point, he took up the sledgehammer to demolish this mute memorial to his suffering.
His voice cracked as he talked about it. One of the officers had tears in his eyes, and the others were silent
Nobody viewed him as a criminal or a vandal at that time; instead, they saw a distraught guy attempting to deal with his loss.
There was silence on the street. The onlookers who had before gazed at the sight with interest now stood with their eyes lowered. As he wiped away his tears, the man said that all he wanted was to be free of the daily agony that tore him apart from the inside out.
