75-Year-Old Man Protects Wife from Gangsters, Gang Leader Comes to Him at Night – Story of the Day

75-year-old Harold jumps to his wife Emma's rescue when two thugs bully her in the store. The guys flee the spot, and Harold thinks it's over. But danger comes knocking at his door that night when the gang leader gathers his thugs outside Harold's house to get even.

"Excuse me, could you please stop pushing?" 67-year-old Emma was disgusted and pulled a pleading face. She couldn't stand it anymore. Two men dressed in black leather jackets and intricate tattoos creeping up their necks stood in front of her in the grocery queue and brushed against her body.

Emma's husband, Harold, 75, was standing right behind her in the queue at the bustling supermarket in the heart of the town. At first, Harold thought the guys had mistakenly brushed against his wife. But no…Harold was wrong. And at that moment, the guys did the unthinkable to Emma…

"What's the rush, Oldie? Don't you like it?" After passing a dirty joke, the guy chuckled, and his pal joined him in the mocking. "Yeah! Can't you handle a little friendly nudge, Granny?!" he scoffed.

The guys aggressively shoved the unsuspecting Emma, causing her to stagger backward. If it hadn't been for Harold and a few shoppers around, Emma would have lost her balance and fallen on the cart, hurting herself. At this point, Harold decided not to just stand and watch.

"Hey, stop being disrespectful to my wife," he charged fiercely at the men. "Show some respect. Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"

One of the guys burst into laughter, mocking Harold relentlessly. "Look at this old man getting defensive, pal!" he taunted. "Boo! We're so scared of you, Grandpa! What are you gonna do? Hit us with your walking stick?!"

"I'll show you what I can do!" Harold grabbed the guy by the collar and twisted his arm, sending him shrieking and wincing in pain. "In my time, people with tattoos on their necks were considered useless idiots…Little has changed since that time! Guess I'll have to teach you some respect the hard way, boy!"

The people around were stunned at Harold's audacity. Would they keep quiet if the same thing happened to them? Would they just stand back and watch if these guys misbehaved with their families? The answer was apparent. And that's what Harold did. He took a stand for his Emma, unaware of the danger he was putting himself into when the thug slipped out a Bowie knife from his leather jacket.

"Hunter, what are you doing?" The ruffian's friend, Jaxon, alerted him to stop. "People are watching…we'll get into trouble. Put it inside."

Hunter's face was twisted and red with fury. His eyes had started watering. Not because he was emotional. Thugs like him knew no emotion. He was seething with anger, and if Jaxon had not intervened, Harold would have met with a horrific fate at Hunter's merciless hands.

Harold was jolted by the thug's temper. After seeing the menacing dragon and skull tattoos on the guy's neck and hands, he let go of his leather jacket. This was not the kind of guy anybody would want to mess up with. Unfortunately, Harold had already invited trouble into his life, and Hunter's piercing gaze unsettled him.

"YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, OLD MAN," Hunter said as he spat on the floor.

His voice dripped with a menacing threat, and eyes fired daggers as he and Jaxon fled the grocery store, leaving Harold with an ominous warning.

"Oh, Harry, that was so scary," Emma clutched Harold's hand as they boarded their car and drove home. "Did you see his eyes? That lad was so angry… I pray we never cross paths with those scoundrels again. Let's go home…I don't want to stay here anymore."

"Don't worry, dear. Those good-for-nothing idiots would've forgotten about us by now! Who knows? They would've hardly crossed the street and could be wreaking havoc for someone else on the road! Loafers like them are only fit to show off their muscular bodies…and threaten vulnerable folks around. They are a waste of time…don't attach much importance to those rascals!"

As the evening settled, Emma and Harold got over the incident at the grocery. They had a lovely candlelit dinner that night. It was a tradition they followed every Saturday. After dinner, Emma gobbled the pills she took for her blood pressure and kissed Harold goodnight before curling up cozily in her bed.

It was such a peaceful night but not for Harold, especially when the incident at the grocery kept playing in his mind in fragments. Moreover, his insomnia haunted him again, and he could not sleep.

Harold sought solace in a book he was halfway through. Just as he flipped another page of John Steinbeck's East of Eden, he heard a loud crashing sound coming from outside. Harold thought it was strange because there were no immediate neighbors, and it sounded like someone was dragging a heavy object right outside his bedroom window.

"Who is it at this time?" Harold mumbled when he saw it was half past three. He closed the book and gingerly stepped out of bed, careful not to wake Emma, and went downstairs to check what was happening.

Harold's heart started feeling uneasy as the floorboard creaked beneath him. He was making his way to open the door when suddenly, a Molotov cocktail hurtled through the window, crashing into the kitchen with a fiery explosion.

Before he could fathom what was happening, more combustible bottles crashed onto the kitchen and living room floors. Harold stood still in fear. He had never expected things to go so wrong that night.

"Jesus, what's going on?" Harold shrieked and ran around, trying to douse the fire. He looked out the window and saw several masked men outside hurling more Molotov cocktails and fleeing, leaving destruction in their wake.

Before crossing the gate, one of them turned around and removed his mask, and Harold was paralyzed with shock when he recognized him. It was Hunter, the gang leader, who threatened him at the store. Hunter stared back at the house and smiled wickedly before disappearing into the night with his men.

In split seconds, the flames spread rapidly, consuming everything in the house, as Harold ran upstairs and returned with a startled Emma cradled in his arms. The front door was locked from the outside, so he ran with all his might toward the backdoor and kicked it open.

"Emma? Emma…are you alright?" Harold patted Emma's cheek after laying her on the lawn. She was too frightened and clutched onto her chest, sending shivers down Harold's spine. He knew something was going wrong with her health. She was sweating, and all symptoms indicated she was having a heart attack.

"911, what's your emergency?" the dispatcher answered as Harold breathed heavily on the line. Luckily, he had his cell phone with him at that time to call for help.

"My wife…I think she…is having a cardiac arrest. Please…I need an ambulance," Harold cried. "There are no neighbors around. I'm alone with my wife. Please, help me."

"Sorry to hear that, Sir. Help is on the way," the dispatcher responded.

The silence of the night was shattered by the sirens of ambulances and fire engines swarming Harold's property. Paramedics rushed Emma to the hospital, and Harold's worst fears were confirmed outside the emergency room. Emma had suffered a massive heart attack and was in critical care, with tubes and drips feeding life into her.

Harold was shaken and immediately bolted to the police station to file a report. Deep down, he was confident that the doctors would save Emma. Harold trusted the doctors more than all the Gods he knew of and drove to the department to meet the Sheriff.

The department was bustling during the wee hours of the morning as Harold shakily marched to the Sheriff's desk. "Excuse me, Officer," he approached the Officer with half-broken sentences. "Some thugs…they broke into my property…and set my house on fire…you have to find them…and arrest them, Officer. Please help me…"

"Please sit down, Sir. Tell me clearly," the Sheriff said.

"My wife and I were at this grocery store last evening," he told the cop. "Two men…they looked like gangsters…messed up with me and my wife. One of them even threatened me with a knife. And they set fire to my house. My wife is in the hospital now because of them. I want to file a report, Officer. Could you please check the CCTV footage of the store and find the guys…?"

"Okay!" The Sheriff said as he called the control room to obtain the CCTV footage of the concerned grocery store immediately. "I informed the control room. Please wait for an update, Sir."

Harold nodded and sat down on the wooden chair. Minutes ticked away when the cop got a call, and his expression changed abruptly. "Alright…No, he's still here. I'll take care. Don't worry!" He said, making his way to Harold.

"I'm sorry, sir…looks like the cameras in the store were not working for a long time," the cop said. "We could not obtain any footage."

Harold was shocked and rose to his feet. "What about the cameras on the street…outside the store? I'm sure at least one of them would've captured those thugs…Please, Officer, you must find them. They're roaming freely after attempting to murder my wife and me. You have to do something…."

"Sir, the cameras on the street near that store are not working. There's nothing we can do without any evidence," the cop dismissed Harold's pleas as he extended his hand, gesturing for Harold to leave.

That's when Harold noticed a tattoo like an emblem of some kind on the cop's hand. He remembered seeing a similar one on the bully's neck at the store and grew unsettled. The cop noticed Harold was staring at his tattoo and immediately withdrew his hand.

"But there should be something, Officer…We can't just let them get away like that…Has justice ceased to exist?" Harold disappointedly said as the cop bluntly nodded.

Harold's heart sank as he headed to his car to visit Emma and see how she was doing when his phone suddenly rang in his coat pocket. It was a call from the City Hospital, where Emma was on life support. Harold's heart pounded, waiting to hear his wife was okay and recovering.

"Mr. Martinez, we're extremely sorry. Your wife…she passed away…Hello? Mr. Martinez…Hello…?" Harold heard the voice on the other end of the line fade as he dropped his phone.

Tears gushed into his eyes, and it felt like the skies had fallen on him. It felt so heavy and painful. Harold had lost his only family, and he did not wish to go to the hospital and see his beloved wife lying cold and lifeless under some white sheet in the morgue. But he gathered his broken pieces and got into his car to drive to the hospital.

Harold leaned his head on the steering wheel and sat in silence, looking into the void ahead of him, when suddenly, he encountered the same cop he had talked to a while ago crossing the street.

The officer looked around before getting into a car that pulled across the station. Nothing seemed strange to Harold until he saw the driver closely and recognized him. He was Hunter, the same guy who had threatened him with the Bowie knife at the grocery and set Harold's house on fire.

But what was he doing with the cop? Why was the Sheriff getting into a thug's car and shaking hands with him when he was supposed to arrest him for what he had done? Were they involved? Several questions haunted Harold, and he decided to follow them secretly.

Harold knew this was going to be risky. He noticed he was driving on a deserted country road, following a black SUV seemingly loaded with more menacing thugs, weapons, and a cop who was siding with the bad guys. But Harold was curious to connect the dots.

After what seemed like an eternity on wheels, the SUV took a diversion into the woods bordering the outskirts of town and suddenly stopped in its tracks. From a distance, Harold saw the cop getting down, accompanied by several thugs adorning black masks and leather jackets.

They lit cigarettes and laughed about something, irking Harold. "Whose life did these demons destroy now to laugh like that?" he gritted his teeth and watched silently as the men scurried through the creepers and bushes.

Harold silently followed them and stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh my God…what's going on over here? What are they doing?" He gasped at seeing a huge warehouse bustling with suspicious activity in the heart of the densely wooded area.

Curiosity got the better of Harold when he peered through a gap in the thickets and witnessed two vans outside the building. Gang members were busy loading crates of weapons into one of the vans. Harold's brows rose with a surprised arc when he looked closely at the logo on the vehicles.

"Cornell's Emporium?" Harold exclaimed, cupping his mouth. His suspicion heightened when he saw the cop shaking hands with a rich man at the doorway of the warehouse. The face looked eerily familiar, and Harold realized it was the same face depicted on the logo on the vans.

"That means…he is the boss of the emporium," Harold whispered as he pulled out his phone. He started sweating, and anxiety surged into his veins. It was like walking on eggshells. But Harold knew it was his only chance to expose the criminals and began recording everything discreetly from behind the bushes.

Once all the crates were loaded, Hunter turned around to his men. "Great job, guys! The cargo is ready to be dispatched. You can leave! Let's meet in an hour."

The men shared a hearty laugh, and in the near distance, Harold noticed the vans were preparing to leave. He quietly fled the spot to his car and decided to follow the vans, curious to find out where they were taking the weapons.

But things arrived at a dead end for Harold when the vehicles split up and switched routes at an intersection. At this point, Harold was faced with a decision and knew he must act quickly. So he turned his wheel and chased after only one of the vans.

Following an hour-long chase, the van pulled over at the underground parking lot of Cornell's Emporium, an acclaimed chain of fashion boutiques in the city. Harold discreetly waited in his car as the thugs left the parking lot.

"I'm sure they are planning something big with the illegal weapons in that van…something is very wrong…" he whispered, and like an experienced detective, he took out his phone and approached the alleged van to gather more proof.

When Harold neared the vehicle, he noticed the door was not properly latched. It made it easier for him to open it and get his hands on the crates inside. As Harold opened the box with trembling hands, he leaped back in shock.

"Only clothes?" He was taken aback. "But I saw them load guns, ammunition, and explosives into this van…wait a second…did I chase the wrong van? But how is that possible? I saw them loading weapons with my own eyes…."

"Did you miss your chance of taking revenge, you old idiot?" a gruff voice startled Harold from behind as he turned around with a start, unsure of what to expect.

"What did you expect to see in these boxes? Guns? Grenades? Explosives?" the man laughed wickedly. Harold quickly recognized his face from the logo. He was Mr. Cornell, the emporium's owner, and poor Harold had no idea that he was caught in their trap.

"Allow me to explain, Oldie," he scoffed, gripping Harold's collar. "These clothes are for my charity event. Homeless people will receive them at the fair tomorrow, singing my praises in front of the cameras and securing my victory in the mayoral election. Did you really think an old rat like you could ruin my plan overnight?"

"Or did you think we didn't notice you were creeping into the parking lot and spying on us, uh, Oldie?" Hunter chuckled as the thugs circled Harold. "What've you got in your phone?"

Harold tried to squeeze his way out and refused to give in. But he was no match for the bulky thug's strength. "Looks like you've got a talent for filming! You messed with the wrong people, Oldie. And you're gonna regret every second of your life now!" Hunter laughed, smashing the phone under his boot.

Before Harold could process what was said or run for his life, one of the thugs struck a sharp blow to his head, and in split seconds, everything went blank. Harold fell with a heavy thud as the thugs dragged him across the parking lot.

Hours ticked away when finally, Harold opened his eyes, only to find himself locked up in a cellar. He held his aching head and looked around, trying to find a way out. The room was dark and stashed with old furniture and boxes. With all his might, Harold rose from the floor and approached the door to escape from there. But to his shock, the door wouldn't budge.

Harold heard noises outside and peered through a window, only to see the thugs loading more crates into the van. "It has reached the port? Great! This one will be driven to the charity fair at five in the morning. At any cost, the main cargo has to reach Virginia in two days. It's a million-dollar deal. Be ready!"

"Hurry up, boys! Load everything. The van leaves early in the morning," the thug informed his gangsters. Harold eavesdropped on the conversation, and suddenly, a strange idea struck him when he felt his lighter in his pocket.

Harold set a heap of old cardboard boxes on fire, and in mere seconds, the fire alarm went off throughout the building, unlocking all the doors. Chaos erupted in the emporium as people shopping for clothes hastily ran around to safety, thinking a fire had broken out in the building.

Using the opportunity to his fullest, Harold escaped from the basement and ran to his car. He drove away without turning back, sighing with relief. "Just a few more hours…Mr. Cornell and his men will now know what this 'Old Idiot' is capable of!" Harold scowled to his heart's content as he vanished into the night.

The next morning, there was a huge bustle at the charity fair. Hundreds of people had gathered to get a glimpse of the wealthy Mr. Cornell and receive donations from the charity event he had organized. People started cheering at the top of their voices when Mr. Cornell ascended the stage to deliver his speech. He was in the spotlight, and all eyes were on him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It's an honor to serve the residents of our town," Mr. Cornell began as people listened excitedly. "I'm always at your service, my friends. My father once said, 'Give back to the society that helped you grow…that sculpted your success,' and here I am…to honor my late father's words. As long as I'm alive, I'll keep giving back to my people!"

Striking a magnificent pose for the paparazzi, Mr. Cornell pointed to the van. "Today, on behalf of Cornell's Emporium, we're going to distribute brand-new clothes and shoes to all of you!"

People screamed with excitement and flocked around the van. With a glint of pride in his eyes, Mr. Cornell declared on the mic, "Hunter, my son, please open the van and do the honors!"

When Hunter opened the van, everyone was in for a massive shock. Guns, grenades, and explosives popped out of the crates. And in split seconds, people started panicking, and someone called the cops. Soon, police cruisers and K-9 squads arrived at the scene.

Mr. Cornell was startled and could not even guess what had gone wrong when the cops charged toward him with handcuffs.

"It's now fair and square!" Harold dusted his hands as he watched Mr. Cornell and his men being loaded into the police cruisers.

Satisfied in getting even with his wrongdoers, he turned around to leave when a sudden tap on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. "Mr. Martinez, FBI Officer Carl," an officer said. "You have to report to our office tomorrow."

The following morning, Harold was sitting in the FBI office when Officer Carl walked in. "Ah, Mr. Martinez! Glad to see you!" he said. "Thank you so much for bringing this horrendous scheme to light. Some corrupt cops in our department have been hiding the truth and keeping us from cracking this case. Thanks to you for helping us."

"But I have a question…" Officer Carl broke Harold's silence. "How the hell did the van with the weapons get there at the charity?" Harold smiled and pulled out his business card. "Tow Truck Driver, H. Martinez?!" Officer Carl exclaimed at seeing the words on it.

"Yup! When I found out the location of the two vans, all I had to do was switch them with my truck!" Harold replied. He shook hands with the officer and headed to the cemetery with a wreath of white roses and candles to bid goodbye to his beloved Emma.

What can we learn from this story?

• Appearances can be deceiving. Look beyond the surface to truly understand a person and what they are capable of. Whether it was the thugs who picked a brawl at the grocery or mafia lord Mr. Cornell, everybody mistook Harold for a weak old man. They set his house on fire to threaten him and even caused his wife's death. Ultimately, he got even with his ingenious revenge plan in the end and showed them what he was truly capable of.
• Justice may take time. But every wrong sown will reap its consequences. When Harold approached the cop to file a report against his wrongdoers, he was turned down. However, the criminals who destroyed his house and caused his wife Emma's death landed in jail when Harold took things into his own hands and brought their crime to light.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.

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