School Called Police On Biker Whom My Daughter Was Feeding Her Lunch Every Day

The biker looked up at me. His eyes were red and swollen. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I wasn’t trying to scare anyone. I just…” He couldn’t finish.

Lily pulled away from me and ran to him. Sat down on the curb next to him. Put her tiny hand on his massive tattooed arm. “It’s okay, Mr. Thomas. Don’t cry. I’m here.”

The principal was standing beside me now. “Mrs. Torres, do you know this man?”

“No. I’ve never seen him before.” I crouched down, looking at the biker. “Sir, who is the girl in these photographs?”

He picked up one of the photos with shaking hands. “Her name was Emma. She was my granddaughter.” He paused. “She died three years ago. She was five years old. Same age as your little girl.”

The crowd went silent.

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