Mike Stopforth

In 1964 Kitty Genovese was stabbed to death by a serial rapist and murderer. The murder took place over a period of about a half hour, after which it was reported that dozens of alleged “witnesses” failed to help the victim.

As a result the bystander effect - a psychological phenomenon in which someone is less likely to intervene in an emergency situation when other people are present and able to help than when he or she is alone - is also known as Genovese Syndrome.

Yesterday the family and I took a trip to the mall to do some clothes and birthday shopping. Toward the end of our excursion we popped into a coffee shop opposite the tills in the Pick ‘n Pay to grab a drink and an early lunch. As we arrived we wheeled the pram with 1 x sleeping child inside and Wendy took a seat. I rushed off to the loo which was outside the store, around the corner.

On my way back I passed a rather conspicuous lady dressed in a red skirt and blouse who had, in the course of my toilet break, taken a seat outside the coffee shop. She didn’t look right at all - my first impression was that she’d either received a hectic phone call with bad news or that she was feeling very ill - she was pale, shaky and uncomfortable. Despite this, I decided not to go over to her to ask if she was ok - I didn’t want to intrude and if I’m dreadfully honest another part of me just didn’t want to get involved.

So I left her, but watched as she slowly got worse and worse. Eventually people began to notice her distress and a guy came over, baby in his arms, to ask if she was ok. I couldn’t hear the conversation from inside the store but could only see lift her quivering finger to point at someone who was in a queue some distance away. And then all hell broke loose.

She collapsed to the floor in a heap. First I thought she had just broken down in tears. Then two people went over to her and she suddenly kicked out at one of them, almost tripping them off their feet. I thought she had gone mad and was having some sort of bizarre attention-grabbing temper tantrum, and then it hit me like a concrete block - she was fitting. A few seconds later her average-sized body was thrashing around so violently that five grown adults could not hold her still. Her extremities and facial features contorted grotesquely and her clothing and shoes broke and tore apart. Somebody phoned the paramedics, they arrived 15 minutes later. She had endured three enormous fits by that time.

All this time I sat and watched, because I knew someone else would do something. And today I’m pretty cut up about it. I’d like to think I’m a good man, that I’d do the right thing when it’s needed, but I guess I got scared yesterday. Scared of making a fool of myself. Scared of getting involved in something inconvenient. Scared of… I don’t know. Just scared.

When it happens to you, will you stand by or or will you get involved? And do you even care?