Linda, As in the Linda Murder

43

The association Växjö Men Against Violence to Women had received a very positive welcome in the local media, and even though it was summer and height of the holiday season some fifty men had already said they would like to take part. In practical terms, this was considerably more than they really needed. Växjö’s nightlife, particularly in summer, wasn’t exactly hectic, to put it mildly, and in order to balance their resources with demand, they had divided the volunteers across the days of the week. They had even decided that the association’s fellow menfolk would patrol the town’s streets and squares in teams of two. This offered other advantages besides ease of planning, partly because it increased the security of the menfolk themselves, and partly because it acted as an extra control in case some joker managed to get through the eye of the association’s needle.

They had also adapted to the weather, and had a load of T-shirts printed bearing the word MENFOLK in red lettering across the wearer’s chest and back. This meant that the wearers were easily recognizable by those they were there to help and protect, while offering a means of authorization that didn’t have to be fished out of a pocket if anything ever happened.

Communications had been set up in the simplest possible way, with the Menfolk on the same shift making sure they had each other’s mobile numbers before they headed out into town. And of course there was also a special emergency number to the police, in case they ever found themselves in a dangerous situation. And, finally, they had also had the foresight to place an order with a local clothing company for rainproof jackets with detachable linings, bearing the same logo, in plenty of time before the autumn, when rather different weather could be expected. Last but by no means least, and particularly not in parsimonious Småland, there had been so much interest from different sponsors that they would really have needed to wear overalls to have room to promote them all.

Against this background, it was especially unfortunate that a regrettable incident that could easily have ended in tragedy occurred during the very first week. On Tuesday night two of the association’s committee members who, together with two other pairs, were patrolling the central area between the Tegnér Cemetery, the health centre, the fire station and the cathedral tried to mediate between half a dozen youngsters who were arguing outside McDonald’s, at the junction of Storgatan and Liedbergsgatan.

All of those involved came from immigrant backgrounds, and all of them apart from the two that the dispute was actually about were boys or at most young men. Committee member Bengt Karlsson had first attempted to lower the tension by talking to them, which was the introductory step in the three-step model of conflict resolution — conversation, intervention, immobilization — that they had chosen to follow.

In spite of this, two of them had started fighting anyway, eagerly cheered on by the rest of them, regardless of gender, and at this point Karlsson and his partner had been forced to proceed directly to step three of the CII model and try to separate the two opponents. The effect of their action had been immediate. The two fighting men had immediately forgotten their differences and along with their supporters had turned on the two Menfolk as one. If Karlsson’s partner hadn’t already rung the emergency number on his mobile, things could have ended very badly indeed.

Within a couple of minutes one of the other Menfolk teams had arrived at a run from the railway station, and tried to help as best they could in accordance with the recommended method. At roughly the same time a patrol car containing von Essen and Adolfsson had also arrived. Because of the stretched resources within the Växjö Police, they had had to pull on their uniforms and do an extra shift in the station’s rapid-response unit. First out was Police Constable Adolfsson, and, although it is unclear exactly what he and his partner did, within the space of a minute and a half they had separated all those involved and Adolfsson had got the two most active of them on the ground.

‘Just stop it,’ Adolfsson had said, ‘and the rest of you stand still until my partner’s booked you all.’

After another fifteen minutes’ discussion, and after getting the names of all six immigrant youths and four Menfolk, Adolfsson had raised his hand and dismissed the gathering.

‘You go that way,’ he said to the youngsters, pointing north towards Dalbo, which was the best bet, being Växjö’s own little ghetto.

‘And you go that way,’ von Essen said to the Växjö Menfolk, pointing towards the hospital.

‘But we’re supposed to be patrolling the centre of town,’ one of the Menfolk protested. ‘Why would we want to be going south?’

‘I suggest you take the long way round,’ von Essen said diplomatically. ‘How’s your nose, by the way?’

The visible, physical injuries to all involved were fortunately restricted to one of the Menfolk, whose nose was bleeding after being punched by one of the men he was trying to help. Regrettably, in the heat of the fight, he had also ended up in Adolfsson’s clutches, and immediately found himself flat on the ground with a very sore back and neck.

‘If you like we can drive you to the hospital, or take you home if you’d prefer,’ Adolfsson said. ‘Or we’ve got a first aid kit in the car. Just lean your head back and take some deep breaths.’

‘It isn’t easy, as I’m sure you can appreciate,’ von Essen said in a conciliatory tone, handing a compress to the injured Manfolk, ‘telling the difference between the good guys and the bad when they’re all brawling in a heap, if you see what I mean.’

The injured Manfolk understood exactly. He didn’t have any complaints at all. He’d never dream of pressing charges against the teenager who had happened to punch him on the nose, and he had no intention of making a complaint against Police Constable Adolfsson, who was only trying to help him.

‘A nosebleed isn’t the end of the world,’ he said with a brave smile. ‘It was just an unfortunate misunderstanding.’