Jungle justice never the right way to justice

I was walking down a street in alu community in port Harcourt when I heard a sudden cry ole ole (thief thief),a cry you wouldn't want to hear in a devastated area like alu. The word 'thief' brought memories of the three young uniport student that were killed in broad day light.

A scene even a beast would not like to witness. Behold,it was a boy,age 13-14 running helplessly with a mob shouting and chasing behind him. They chased after him tiredlessly.
His weaken legs and tired stomach could not help fasten his speed. He was tired,a symbol of poverty crystal his face,he was the emblem of a society without shame or education. He ran the speed of a snail hoping he could just disappear off to save place. I couldn't help but observe the man on suit that was closing on him.
He symbolized education, knowledge and wisdom but he was at the forefront of the mob closing up the boy with a heavy stick in his hand. 'please don't kill me' was the cry of the teenage boy who should be in school but the corruption and mess of the society has turned him to a pickpocket at a very early age of his life. Blood and tears fell from his eyes as the man on suit navigated the stick to his head,he fell on the ground struggling for life,he was helpless like an antelope in the den of a lion. The mob of young men and women who could have understood or asked what could have led the boy to pickpocketing started unleashing hell on the young boy,the man on suit was the coordinator even when he looked Nobel like a consultant on child abuse. 'beat him,break his head,kill him, Small thief that is how they use to start,' he shouted. The cry of the little man hit my heart like a straight bullet from an a.k 47. I felt his pain. Should I go and stop this mob of uncivilized educated illiterate from killing this boy were the words that consumed my mind. Won't they say i am the one that sent him to embark on the crime were the question that pulled my legs behind.
I felt like a coward as I watched helplessly from a distance as he was beaten. A boy whose mother laboured before he was born was about to be killed by people old enough to be his parent.

Tears fell from my eyes as they brought a Tyre to burn him.No one even asked what he stole. It could have been a bread, or a pack of indomie. I watched helplessly for the first time a child that is about to be killed. He was lifeless,he could not move as they have beat the life out of him,he was a narrow line between life and death. My heart wept and bled cos I felt alone as I watch the boy struggle for air. He was killed and everyone departed as if nothing has happened.