Crime

Late March, Panama City Beach.

The warm sunshine, well over 25 degrees Celsius, felt wonderful on his skin. Wearing sunglasses and nothing but swim trunks, he lounged on the beach as a gentle breeze brushed against him. It was hard to describe how good it felt—especially with swimsuits everywhere he looked, so many that his eyes could hardly keep up. This might have been the most relaxing moment he'd had since arriving in this world...

In reality, that was just Ryan's wishful thinking.

When he, Abigail, and a dozen or so classmates arrived at this so-called "Spring Break destination," the first thing they saw was a beach packed with Spring Break students. Thousands of people crowded onto the small stretch of sand. Their arguments, laughter, and screams blended into a racket like a crowded marketplace.

There were swimsuits and bikinis, sure, but the wearers weren't necessarily all that fit. And there was no chance of seeing a beach full of bikini-clad hunks and beauties like in Baywatch, the hit TV show from the nineties.

The one saving grace was that the sun was shining, and the sea glittered beautifully. It was a perfect day for sunbathing.

"Who said this was a Spring Break destination?"

"You can blame MTV. After its Spring Break broadcasts in the eighties, this place became synonymous with Spring Break."

"It's the only free public beach around. There really are too many people here this year."

"So what do we do? Go back to the hotel, or wait for the evening events? Is Harpoon Harry's having anything on tonight?"

"Not tonight, but tomorrow is the annual local Beach Bash music festival. It's being held at the bar, and I hear some big-name guests will be there."

"Then what do we do tonight?"

The Winter Music Conference was opening in a few days, and Ryan planned to spend a couple of days exploring Florida with his classmates. Hearing their conversation, he turned to Abigail. She was wearing flip-flops and wrapped in an oversized beach towel that completely covered her upper body.

Ryan glanced at the other single girls nearby. They were dressed much the same way.

Clearly, the girls had put a lot of thought into their first Spring Break as eighteen-year-old adults. It would be a drag to turn around and go home, but the beach was so crowded there wasn't even room to lie down and sunbathe.

Ryan looked farther out. Several yachts were cruising on the water, and people were leaping from their upper decks, flipping into the sea.

"Maybe we could rent a yacht," Ryan suggested.

If they only rented one until tonight, even with the holiday markup, it should still be affordable.

Ryan thought everyone would go for it, but his classmates all looked troubled. After hemming and hawing for a while, they finally admitted it was "over budget."

Hendersonville was just an ordinary public high school, and the students all lived nearby. Local high schoolers weren't likely to have much to spend on Spring Break.

"Okay," Ryan said with a nod. "In that case..."

He pulled a bulging wallet from his swim trunks and announced that he was feeling generous!

His classmates immediately erupted into cheers. A few of the boys looked ready to make Ryan their sugar daddy on the spot and kiss his ass, showering him with praise. A few others hurried off to find a boat rental company along the shore and run errands for him.

These high schoolers still had a pretty simple view of money. Ryan's dollar managed to have the impact of ten, and once they were aboard, the single girls on the Cheerleading squad took turns asking him to apply their sunscreen. Ryan was happy to oblige.

A while later, Ryan appeared at the stern and sat beside Abigail. She was standing by the railing, using a telescope set up on the deck to watch the shore.

The telescope was usually used to observe the sea in the distance, but Abigail was using it to watch the beach.

When she noticed Ryan approaching, Abigail jumped.

"We have to call the police right now!" she said in alarm. Then she left Ryan behind and hurried into the cabin.

Ryan picked up the telescope and looked from where Abigail had been standing. The horrifying scene came into view.

On the beach not far from shore stood a group of Black college students, men and women, chatting and laughing. Smiles lit up every face. They looked no different from the Spring Break students around them. But only a step away, three Black men were kneeling on the sand around a woman. The men were doing whatever they wanted to her, and she showed no reaction at all.

The three men certainly weren't applying sunscreen. They were committing something far more evil—the sort of thing Indians liked to do.

"Yes, on the beach. Send an officer over right away..." Abigail returned to the deck and was calling the police.

If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Ryan would have found it hard to believe something like this could happen. It was broad daylight, and there had to be dozens of people nearby, yet not one of them intervened. They all looked the other way, thinking the woman was "asleep."

Abigail was shouting, trying to draw the attention of the people around her, but they were too far from shore to be heard.

The police arrived at the beach within ten minutes, but there were so many people and no landmarks. By the time the two officers trudged through the deep sand to the scene, all that remained was the woman, abandoned on the beach...

Abigail's face was etched with horror. Until then, Spring Break had meant warm sunshine, sweet romance, and laughter to her. Reality had given her a brutal lesson. She couldn't bring herself to have fun for the rest of the afternoon. She kept her beach towel wrapped around herself and never took it off.

Ryan had already recovered from his initial shock. He'd used the telescope to scan other parts of the beach and discovered that this kind of group assault in broad daylight was happening in more than one place. He had memorized the face of one of the three criminals, a Black man with Dreadlocks.

That night, Ryan learned through conversations with the others that at popular Spring Break destinations, crime rates soared around this time of year. Assaults, illegal gun possession, and drug use were among the offenses on the rise. The local radio was also reporting that the City Council had passed a "Spring Break Ordinance," and that the city police department would step up enforcement during Spring Break.

Only then did Abigail come out of her daze. Now she was even afraid to leave Ryan's side. When the group returned to shore, she asked him to walk her back.

Ryan couldn't refuse her request. Since Abigail had spent the past half month helping him study, he agreed to take her back. Before leaving, he exchanged a glance with a few of the boys, as if they had some arrangement.

"Same place as usual," one of the skinny guys quietly told Ryan.

Back at the apartment hotel, Abigail closed the door behind her.

"I'm starving. How about we go to Captain Anderson's Restaurant for seafood tonight? We could have a drink, too," Abigail suggested.

Abigail was out of luck tonight. Ryan already had plans.

"Ashley and the others are next door. You can go with them. I'm exhausted," Ryan said.

Abigail's brows furrowed. "Then leave! And don't come back!"

The door slammed shut.

"Jerk!" Abigail shrieked. Then she grabbed the beach towel she was wearing and tore at it as if it were Ryan. As for the black-and-white bikini underneath, she hadn't gotten the chance to show it to him all day.

A few minutes later, Ryan had met up with several of his male classmates. All the girls had returned to the apartments.

"Now it's time for the men's activity: a Wet T-shirt Party!" The lanky boy from earlier slung an arm around Ryan's neck. His name was Paul, and he was a starting cornerback on the school football team. The position usually went to the fastest runner, and Paul fit the bill perfectly: slim waist, long legs, a small head, and an elongated face. He looked like a Doberman.

Ryan and the others walked along the sidewalk. At an intersection, they passed a black Mercedes-Benz MPV.

Inside, a young man in a baseball cap was looking out the window.

"Zimmerman, after tomorrow's Beach Bash, we'll head to Daytona the day after for our second show. Then we'll go to Miami to get ready for Ultra Music Festival."

"Have you checked all the Mouse Helmets?" the young man asked.

His assistant nodded. "Want me to invite a couple of pretty local girls to your room tonight?"

The young man shook his head. "Forget it."

He wanted to play video games later.

A note: The beach events described in this passage were adapted from real crimes that took place during Spring Break in 2015.