The Childhood Trauma That Makes Me Not Take the Bus Anymore: How the Public Transportation System Ruined My Family

 If you haven't seen my family tree, I'll spell it out. My mom and dad had (in order) my brother, Demetrius Jr, my sister Lysandra, my brother Frankie, my sister Kathy, and me. That's all you need to know for this story.

The year was 2007. I was 17, and in the middle of my junior year of high school in wonderful Key West, FL. It was 4 days before Christmas. At the time, it was me, Frankie, and Kathy living at home with the incomparable Bob Taylor, and my mother, Loretta. My brother Demetrius Jr. was in medical school, and my sister Lysandra was working at a department store and finishing up college. They both were my dad's favorites, and moved up to Michigan to be near him, and to go to school. 

They lived together in Midtown near where Sandy was going to college at Wayne State. They both had to do some holiday shopping. They decided to take the bus from Midtown to Downtown to get some shopping done and called mom to talk an hour before they left. We didn't hear from them ever again.

We rang for them on Christmas, as was per usual, but there was no answer. We rang them again, and again. We decided they must be out and went on with our festivities. The next day, dad rang us, and told us they hadn't come to his house for any festivities. He told us that he went to check on them. No one was at the apartment, and it seemed like there was no struggle. Dad went to file a police report and got shithoused afterwards.

We didn't know where they were. It was a very scary time. It was Winter up there, and multiple inches of snow were on the ground. Then, they found them. But first, what happened?

They were 2 miles out from Downtown, in Mexican Town. While I have nothing against Mexicans or Mexican Town, it's not the best part of Detroit. It's not the worst, either, but some of it is rough. Well, apparently, they got dropped off close to Mexican Town, and walked around. There wasn't Uber back then, so they called a cab. They just thought the bus system fucked them over. Well, they were right about one thing. They were about to get fucked over. But not by the bus system. By the creepy ass cab driver that picked them up. 

The cab driver- Del Rubinstein- picked them up around noon, and drove them not to Downtown, but to his apartment. There, he murdered and raped both of them. He... you know'd my sister first and made her watch as he did the same to my brother. Then he beat their heads in with a meat tenderizer. He dumped them in a dumpster behind an AutoZone. 

We were devastated. My sister's girlfriend, Linda killed herself 2 weeks after they found the bodies. Mom had a heart attack. Dad almost died of alcohol poisoning! I picked up smoking. When I die of lung cancer in 30 years, you'll have Del Rubinstein's ass to blame. Fuck that guy. 

They caught Rubinstein a year after Sandy and Demetrius were buried. Mom paid for their bodies to be shipped back to Key West, and they were buried in the family mausoleum.

Del hasn't been beaten or raped in prison, much to my chagrin. Multiple times, I went to visit him, and threatened to kill him. I was kindly asked to leave, and rightly so. 

After that, we were all forbidden to go on public transit. It might send us to the arms of a goddamn killer! Mom recovered well after that heart attack, you all know how dad turned out, and I-- am still smoking. Smoking's so glamorous.

Anyways, that's one of my traumas. The other ones are so awful, I may not even share them. 

My mom has sworn off buses, subways, taxis, and Uber. She doesn't want to quote: "end up like my dead fucking kids". Thanks, Del, you cocksucker! See you in hell, babe!