I received a call from my daughter’s school in the middle of a workday and was told she was involved in “dangerous behavior with a stranger.” The urgency in the principal’s voice sent panic through me, and I rushed over immediately. When I arrived, I found my five-year-old daughter, Lily, crying, with two police officers standing nearby.
The principal explained that Lily had been giving her lunch every morning to a man on a motorcycle who waited outside the school. At first, I was horrified. Lily admitted she didn’t tell me because she feared I would stop her. She said the man was “hungry and sad.” The officers escorted me outside where a crowd had gathered. There, sitting on the curb, was an older man—tattooed, bearded, dressed in worn leather—and crying. Scattered around him were drawings, toys, and notes that Lily had given him.
