Suppose that:

Ali, a notoriously prickly (perhaps even paranoic) but basically decent fellow who lives in a very difficult neighborhood, is getting beat up on by Tikriti, a well-known thug.

Jake, a compulsive do-gooder from outside the neighborhood, intervenes on Ali’s behalf, and Tikriti runs off at the first blow to his tender backside. Jake leans over Ali to inspect his wounds.

At this very moment, “The Caliph,” a local crime-boss who may or may not have…connections…to the vanished Tikriti (nobody seems to know for sure) appears as if from nowhere. Before Jake even realizes what’s happening, he (i.e., “The Caliph”) sticks a pen-knife into Ali’s rib-cage, before fading once more into the darkness from whence he came – but not before giving Jake a well-aimed spit-ball in the face.

The first thing that Jake realizes, as he recovers his wits, is that Ali is screaming at him (i.e., Jake): “YOU DID THIS TO ME, YOU INFIDEL SPAWN OF A GOAT!”

So this is where you come in. Suppose you happened to be walking by at the time. Suppose you saw it all. Suppose that, on the whole, you rather like Jake. You think he’s a good guy. What do you say to him?

I’m sorry to say that the older I get, and the more I see, the more tempted I am by the reply:

“Forget it, Jake. It’s Chinatown.”

If only I could find some sort of remotely plausible moral justification for that reply. But I can’t. I just can’t.