The security guard stood at the gate, arms folded, face blank. He had been trained for this—stay at your post, enforce the rules, and above all, never get involved in matters outside your duty. It was a simple job, one that required presence more than action.
Then came the commotion. A man, disheveled and frantic, stumbled toward the gate. “Please, help me! They’re after me!” His voice was raw with desperation. Behind him, two men in dark clothing approached, walking briskly but controlled, their eyes locked onto their target.
The guard hesitated. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but protocol was clear—he was hired to guard the entrance, not to get involved in street matters. If the man wasn’t an employee or authorized visitor, he had no business interfering.
“Please,” the man gasped, pressing against the metal bars. “Just let me inside for a moment. They want to kill me.”
The pursuers stopped a few feet away. One of them spoke, smooth and calm. “Sir, this is not your concern. This man has stolen something from us. We need to take him back.”
The security guard’s grip tightened around his belt. He wasn’t a police officer. He wasn’t a judge. His job was to check IDs and keep unauthorized people out. He had a family to feed, a job to keep. Was this worth the risk?
“Step away from the gate,” he ordered, voice firm. “This is private property.”
The desperate man’s face fell. His last hope had failed him. The men grabbed him roughly, pulling him away. He struggled at first, but then he seemed to accept his fate. The guard watched in silence as they disappeared into the night.
For the rest of his shift, he felt uneasy. He followed the rules. He did his job. But deep down, a nagging thought wouldn’t leave him.
Did he do the right thing? Or did he just let something terrible happen, all because it was **not his jurisdiction.
Picture was sourced from pixabay.