No one could have known that fifty bikers would show up at the funeral for my son. Most certainly not the four teens who killed him.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s never been my thing to cry. Working as a high school cleaner for 26 years made me tough and taught me how to hold everything in. The first Harley pulled into the graveyard lot, then another, and another, until the whole place shook with their roar. That\u2019s when I finally lost it.<\/p>\n
Mikey, my 14-year-old son, killed himself in our garage. Four of his peers were named in his suicide note. \u201cThis is too much for me, Dad,\u201d he wrote. \u201cThey are not going to stop.\u201d They tell me every day that I should k.i.l.l. myself. They\u2019ll finally get what they wanted now.<\/p>\n
The police said it was \u201ctragic but not critical.\u201d The director of the school sent \u201cthoughts and prayers\u201d and then suggested that the funeral be held during school hours to \u201cavoid any problems.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d never let down my guard so much. I wasn\u2019t able to keep my boy safe while he was living. After he was gone, they couldn\u2019t get justice.<\/p>\n
Then Sam came to our door. He was six feet three inches tall, wore a leather vest, and had a gray beard that reached his chest. I knew him because he pumped gas at the gas station where Mikey and I would get slushies after his therapy sessions.<\/p>\n
He stood awkwardly on our porch and said, \u201cHeard about your boy.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s what my nephew did three years ago.\u201d \u201cDifferent school, same reason.\u201d<\/p>\n
I just nodded because I didn\u2019t know what to say.<\/p>\n
Sam looked past me as if it hurt to say it. \u201cThe thing is, no one stood up for my nephew.\u201d Not after or at the end. Those kids didn\u2019t have to do what they did.<\/p>\n
He gave me a folded piece of paper with a phone number on it. \u201cCall us if you need us to come.\u201d There is no trouble, just present.<\/p>\n
I forgot to call. Not at first. But I found Mikey\u2019s book the night before the funeral. Pages full of pain. Text messages that told my kind, troubled son to \u201cdo everyone a favor and end it\u201d are shown below.<\/p>\n
As I called, my hands were shaking.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many people do you think will be at the funeral?\u201d\u201dSam asked after I told him,\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps thirty.\u201d Some teachers and family. He didn\u2019t have any peers.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre the people who beat him coming?\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThe principal said they were going to do it with their parents.\u201d \u201cTo show support.\u201d The words smelled like a.c.i.d.<\/p>\n
Sam was quiet for a while. \u201cWe\u2019ll be there at nine.\u201d There is nothing to worry about.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know what he meant until the next morning, when I saw them: a sea of worn-out faces, serious eyes, and leather vests. The Hell\u2019s Angels patches could be seen as they made two lines that led to the small chapel, making a safe passageway.<\/p>\n
The funeral director came up to me, his eyes filled with fear. \u201cSir, there are a lot of motorcycle fans coming in.\u201d Should I phone the police?\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re welcome,\u201d I told them.<\/p>\n
As soon as the four boys and their parents got there, they saw the bikes and their faces turned from confusion to fear.<\/p>\n
Three months before the funeral, I saw that my son had changed. He stopped talking about school and stopping inviting people over for small things at first. Mikey was always quiet and liked being alone with his books and sketch pads more than with other kids. But this was different. This was pulling back.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs everything okay at school?\u201dWhen we washed dishes together one night\u2014something we do every night since his mom left when he was eight\u2014I asked.<\/p>\n
He said, \u201cFine,\u201d and his eyes were fixed on the plate he was drying.<\/p>\n
\u201cMade any new friends in high school?\u201dI gave it another shot.<\/p>\n
His shoulders tightened up a bit. \u201cNot really.\u201d<\/p>\n
That\u2019s what I should have done. You should have seen the signs. But that month I worked two shifts because Jenkins was out with back surgery and I was covering his part of the school as well. I was out of breath by the time I finished my rounds, checked all the classes, and made sure everything was locked up tight.<\/p>\n
I saw the bruises anyway. A cut on his cheek one Tuesday. The next week, a split lip.<\/p>\n
When I asked, he said, \u201cBasketball in the gym.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said it again: \u201cTripped on the stairs.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to believe him, so I did. Because if I didn\u2019t, I would fail him, and I had already failed him enough when his mother left.<\/p>\n
The school library worker, Ms. Abernathy, was the first person to try to warn me. In the afternoon, she caught me in the hallway while I was cleaning up some soda that had been spilled near the canteen.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. \u201cCollins,\u201d she said softly, \u201cI need to talk to you about Mikey.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped when I heard her voice. \u201cWhat about him?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
She looked around to make sure we were the only ones there. \u201cHe\u2019s been going to the library for lunch every day.\u201d She wasn\u2019t sure what to say. At first, she thought he just liked to read. There he is, I believe.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you hiding?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThat group of boys is mostly made up of seniors.\u201d I have seen how they look at him as he walks by. The way they talk. I found Mikey\u2019s bag in the trash can outside the library yesterday.<\/p>\n
I told her I would talk to Mikey, and that night I did. He did shut down, though.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Dad. The library is nice to me. It\u2019s not loud.<\/p>\n
After a week, I found his notebook thrown away. The pages were wet, and the pictures were so fuzzy that they were impossible to read. He told me that he had accidentally spilled his drink on it when I asked him about it. But there was something dead in his eyes that I had never seen before.<\/p>\n
The next day, I asked to meet with Mr. Davidson, the director.<\/p>\n
He told me, \u201cKids will be kids, Mr. Collins,\u201d after hearing my worries. \u201cThere\u2019s a natural order to things in high school.\u201d Mikey needs to get tougher and learn to stand his ground.<\/p>\n
I told them, \u201cHe\u2019s being billed.\u201d<\/p>\n
Davidson let out a sigh and leaned back in his chair. \u201cLook, I can\u2019t do much without specifics like names, dates, and events.\u201d Has Mikey told you for sure that someone is hurting him?\u201c<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t. And when I tried to get him to talk that night, he just shut down even more.<\/p>\n
When I wouldn\u2019t stop, he finally said, \u201cYou\u2019re making it worse.\u201d He had never yelled at me before. \u201cDad, just leave it alone.\u201d \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
I did that. I did it, God help me.<\/p>\n
The garage was so quiet the morning I found him that it still makes me think of it. At first, there was no note. Mikey, my boy, was hanging from a rafter that I had helped him swing from when he was little.<\/p>\n
The cops were polite, but they seemed far away. They told me that suicide wasn\u2019t a crime. What a tragedy. There were pictures taken, questions I couldn\u2019t even think of, and then they left me alone in a house that felt huge and empty all of a sudden.<\/p>\n
After three days, I was cleaning his room because I needed to do something. That\u2019s when I found the note stuck to the bottom of his desk drawer.<\/p>\n
He wrote in very neat handwriting, \u201cI can\u2019t take it anymore, Dad.\u201d \u201cThey are not going to stop.\u201d They tell me every day that I should k.i.l.l. myself. They\u2019ll be happy now.<\/p>\n
Jake Weber, Tyler Conroy, Drew Halstead, and Marcus Finch are the names of his four boys. Over 65s. Sporters. Sons of well-known names in town.<\/p>\n
Right away, I took the note to the police station, shaking with anger and sadness.<\/p>\n
Officer Brandt read it twice and then looked up at me with real pity. It\u2019s clear that Mr. Collins is looking for answers, but\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cBut what?\u201d The boys who took my son to K.I.L.L. were named by him. Not enough?\u201c<\/p>\n
He moved in an uncomfortable way. Most of the time, words\u2014even cruel ones\u2014aren\u2019t crucial. Unless there were direct threats or attacks, which we can prove,<\/p>\n
\u201cThey told him to k.i.l.l. himself.\u201d Every day. \u201cAnd now he has.\u201d<\/p>\n
Brandt said, \u201cI\u2019m really sorry,\u201d and I thought he meant it. \u201cBut from a legal point of view, this is bad, but not essential.\u201d<\/p>\n
Next, I went back to Davidson and held the note like it was Mikey\u2019s.<\/p>\n
He read it and said, \u201cThis is terrible.\u201d \u201cJust awful.\u201d We\u2019ll talk to these boys for sure, and anyone who needs it can get help from us.<\/p>\n
\u201cGetting help?\u201dI repeated because I wasn\u2019t sure if I had heard him right.\u201d \u201cThey teased my son until he tied a rope around his neck, and now you\u2019re giving them advice?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
Davidson blew his nose. \u201cMr. Collins, I understand that you\u2019re sad, but we need to be careful with this. This is about minors who have bright careers ahead of them.<\/p>\n
I broke down in tears and said, \u201cMy son doesn\u2019t have a future.\u201d \u201cBecause of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said some nice things about time and healing, and then he suggested that the funeral happen during school hours to \u201cavoid potential incidents.\u201d This meant that no one should make a scene, disrupt the school, or make other people feel bad.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d never let down my guard so much. I wasn\u2019t able to keep my boy safe while he was living. After he was gone, they couldn\u2019t get justice.<\/p>\n
Sam came to our door three days before the service. He was six feet three inches tall, wore a leather vest, and had a gray beard that reached his chest. I knew him because he pumped gas at the gas station where Mikey and I would get slushies after his therapy sessions.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Collins,\u201d he said as he took off his scarf. \u201cMy name is Sam Reeves.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t trust my voice when I nodded. Once people knew about Mikey, they didn\u2019t come over very often. Most people don\u2019t say anything when a child dies by suicide.<\/p>\n
He stood awkwardly on our porch and said, \u201cHeard about your boy.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s what my nephew did three years ago.\u201d \u201cDifferent school, same reason.\u201d<\/p>\n
Since I didn\u2019t know what to say, I just nodded again, which had become my main way of talking.<\/p>\n
Sam looked past me as if it hurt to say it. \u201cThe thing is, no one stood up for my nephew.\u201d Not after or at the end. Those kids didn\u2019t have to do what they did.<\/p>\n
He gave me a folded piece of paper with a phone number on it. \u201cCall us if you need us to come.\u201d There is no trouble, just present.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are \u2018us\u2019?\u201dI was able to ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cBlack Knights Motorcycle Club. Our main job is to do charity runs. Started a program to stop people from lying after my nephew. \u201cHis eyes finally met mine. \u201cMr. Collins, no parent should have to bury their child.\u201d Kids shouldn\u2019t think that dying is better than going to school one more day.<\/p>\n
I put the paper on the kitchen counter after he left and tried not to think about it again. I wasn\u2019t into motorcycles. It had never been. It felt like saying I couldn\u2019t handle this on my own when I asked for help from strangers, which was true but hard to face.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t sleep the night before the funeral. Every room in the house made me miss Mikey, and I felt like it was pushing down on me. I went into his room and sat on his narrow bed to look at the model airplanes that were hanging from the ceiling. That was his pride and joy, especially the WWII Spitfire we built together for Christmas last year.<\/p>\n
I saw that the corner of his cushion was slightly pulled up at that point. When I lifted it, I saw Mickey\u2019s diary in a spiral notebook and a folder full of papers.<\/p>\n
The first entry in his diary was made on his first day of high school. They were hopeful at first. He wrote about his classes, the English girl Emma who smiled at him, and his plans to join the art club.<\/p>\n
But by October, things had changed.<\/p>\n
I was trapped in the bathroom today by Jason and his friends. They told me my drawings were gay. I told everyone I wet myself, even though they were the ones pushing me against the potty.<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain, Tyler took my lunch.\u201d I told him I should thank him because I was too fat anyway.<\/p>\n
\u201cKnow why Emma was being nice.\u201d Drew made her do it as a joke. When she asked me to go to the Halloween dance and then told everyone she was joking, they all laughed.<\/p>\n
Page after page of pain. Big problems start out as small ones and grow into huge ones. When my son was having a hard time, I saw screenshots of text messages and social media posts asking him to \u201cdo everyone a favor and end it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo one would miss you.\u201d \u201cWhy don\u2019t you kill yourself already?\u201d\u201dYou are not needed in this world.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I reached for the phone, my hands were shaking. I didn\u2019t care that it was past midnight. I called the number Sam gave me.<\/p>\n
He picked up on the second ring and sounded very awake. \u201cWhat Sam said.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is Alan Collins.\u201d \u201cMikey\u2019s dad.\u201d I thought my voice sounded funny. \u201cI was told to call you if I wanted to be there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, sir, I did,\u201d she said. There was no judgment or surprise at the time.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow many people do you think will be at the funeral?\u201d\u201dSam asked after I told him what I had found.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps thirty.\u201d Some teachers and family. He didn\u2019t have any peers.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre they coming? The ones who lied to him?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThe principal said they were going to do it with their parents.\u201d The words \u201cto show support\u201d hurt my mouth.<\/p>\n
Sam was quiet for a while. \u201cWe\u2019ll be there at nine.\u201d There is nothing to worry about.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t know what he meant until the next morning, when I saw them: a sea of worn-out faces, serious eyes, and leather vests. Men and women between the ages of 40 and 80, many of them wearing patches that show they served in the military. Some of the vests had Hell\u2019s Angels patches on them, and they made two lines that led to the small chapel, making a safe passageway.<\/p>\n
The funeral director came up to me, his eyes filled with fear. \u201cSir, there are a lot of motorcycle fans coming in.\u201d Should I phone the police?\u201c<\/p>\n
As I watched more bikes pull in, I told them, \u201cThey\u2019re welcome.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their names were called out one by one as they came up to me. Sam. Big Mike. Doc. Hammer. Speaker. Angel. They all shook hands firmly and didn\u2019t say much, but the look in their eyes said it all: \u201cWe get it.\u201d We\u2019ve been here before. You\u2019re not by yourself.<\/p>\n
Raven, a woman, gave me a small pin with Mikey\u2019s letters on it. It looked like an angel wing. She said in a soft voice, \u201cFor your lapel.\u201d \u201cOne is made for every kid.\u201d<\/p>\n
I saw that these coats had a lot of pins on them. A lot of kids died. A lot of deaths are like this one.<\/p>\n
As soon as the four boys and their parents got there, they saw the bikes and their faces turned from confusion to fear. The Weber boy moved back toward their SUV, but his dad put his hand on his shoulder and stopped him.<\/p>\n
Sam moved forward, and his voice rang through the empty parking lot.<\/p>\n
He spoke out loud enough for everyone to hear, \u201cThese boys are welcome to pay their respects.\u201d \u201cWe\u2019re only here to make sure everyone knows what today is about.\u201d A 14-year-old boy who should have had better.<\/p>\n
One of the bikers, a big man with tattoos on his neck, put a teddy bear among the flowers next to Mikey\u2019s picture. Someone else wiped their tears. I saw that a lot of them had their own Mikeys. Too many kids died too soon. There were brothers, nephews, and children who had given up hope.<\/p>\n
The bikers were polite and clearly present during the whole service. They told each other stories about bullying and suicide. About fixing things and what happens afterward. \u201cThey never meant for this to happen,\u201d Jason Weber said. But a wall of men in leather just turned and stared at him until he stopped talking.<\/p>\n
The father of Drew Halstead came up to me at the wedding, his face red with anger.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre these\u2026 people your friends?\u201d\u201dHe asked, looking down at the bikers with dislike.\u201d<\/p>\n
I just said, \u201cThey\u2019re here for Mikey.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I don\u2019t think it\u2019s right.\u201d Quite scary. \u201cMy son is very upset.\u201d<\/p>\n
I gave him a long look. \u201cMr. Halstead, your son should be mad. I found the texts he sent to Mikey. \u201cI know what he did.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face turned a little paler. \u201cCollins, boys will be boys.\u201d Even though what happened is sad, you can\u2019t blame Drew for your son\u2019s\u2026 mental health problems.<\/p>\n
I felt someone next to me, and when I turned around, I saw Sam. He was quiet, but as solid as a rock.<\/p>\n
I told Halstead, \u201cI think you should leave now.\u201d \u201cGo with your son.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you mean to scare me?\u201dHe spluttered, Halstead.<\/p>\n
Then Sam spoke. His voice was soft but clear. \u201cNo one is making threats.\u201d Today, though, is a day to remember Mikey Collins. You don\u2019t fit here if you can\u2019t do that.<\/p>\n
Halstead looked from Sam to me and then back to the group of bikers who were watching from a safe distance. With no more words, he picked up Drew and left. Soon after, the other three families came.<\/p>\n
The bikers stayed after the funeral, when most of the normal attendees had left. Sam gave me a card that had a lot of marks on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe ride for kids who can\u2019t make it on their own anymore,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019re going to that school of his next week.\u201d Giving a speech about bullying. Those four boys are going to sit in the front row.<\/p>\n
When I tried to thank him, my voice broke.<\/p>\n
He said, \u201cDon\u2019t thank us.\u201d \u201cJust live.\u201d That\u2019s what your boy would want.<\/p>\n
The roar of the engines grew as they got on their bikes, sounding like a promise\u2014not of violence but of safety. The kind I didn\u2019t give my son.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t go to work on Monday after that. Couldn\u2019t go into the halls where Mikey had been hurt yet. Instead, I sat on my front porch with a cup of coffee that was already very cold and watched the street as if I were waiting for Mikey to walk up it after school.<\/p>\n
The phone rang just after noon.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Mr. Davidson, this is Collins. My voice is rough. \u201cI think you should know about something going on at school.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of thing?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cThere are,\u201d he said after a pause. \u201cIt looks like about fifty motorcyclists are parked outside the school.\u201d The students keep saying that they want to talk about bullying. They say they talked to you.<\/p>\n
For the first time in weeks, something that might have been happiness warmed my heart. \u201cYes, they did say that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I\u2019ve already told you that we can\u2019t let people who aren\u2019t supposed to be there mess up the school day.\u201d This group of people is scary, Mr. Collins. A number of parents have already called to voice their concerns about safety.<\/p>\n
I told them, \u201cLet them in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me, sir?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
I said it again, \u201cLet them in.\u201d \u201cOr I give those screenshots and Mikey\u2019s journal to the local news.\u201d The city\u2019s TV stations would probably want to know why a 14-year-old boy killed himself and how the school handled the situation.<\/p>\n
There was a lot of silence between us.<\/p>\n
Davidson finally spoke up with a new edge in his voice: \u201cThat would be stupid.\u201d \u201cThink about how the school is known.\u201d The neighborhood.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m thinking about the neighborhood,\u201d I said. \u201cAbout all the other kids going through hard times right now, like Mikey.\u201d Hey Davidson, let them in. Allow them to talk. Or I swear to God I\u2019ll tell everyone what happened to my son and who I think did it.<\/p>\n
There was another long pause. \u201cAll right. They can use the theater for an hour. Things will not go well with this, Mr. Collins.<\/p>\n
I almost laughed. What possible outcomes could matter to me right now?<\/p>\n
I hung up the phone and said, \u201cI\u2019ll be there in twenty minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was strange what was going on at Lakewood High. Along the front of the house, men and women in leather stood with their arms crossed and serious looks on their faces. There were already news cars there, and reporters were trying to get anyone who would talk to say something.<\/p>\n
Sam was talking to a woman I recognized as Mrs. Abernathy, the librarian who had tried to tell me about Mikey\u2019s problems. I found Sam near the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Collins,\u201d Sam said, nodding. \u201cI\u2019m glad you could make it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I said, \u201cWouldn\u2019t miss it.\u201d \u201cIs the principal giving you trouble?\u201d\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can handle anything.\u201d Today you look better.<\/p>\n
Not really, I didn\u2019t feel better. Still, I felt something change inside me when I was with people who cared about Mikey\u2014a boy they had never even met\u2014enough to show up and speak for him. Not really healing. But reason.<\/p>\n
The students walked into the hall with wide eyes and whispered to each other as they went by the bikers who were set up along the walls. When I looked back, I saw Jason, Tyler, Drew, and Marcus crowded together in the back row, trying to look fierce but failing.<\/p>\n
They were in the front row, and Sam pointed them out to a rider named Hammer. Hammer nodded and moved toward them.<\/p>\n
\u201cBoys,\u201d Hammer said in a friendly voice, blocking their way out, \u201cwe saved you special seats.\u201d In the front, where you can hear it best.<\/p>\n
The Weber boy looked like he was going to say something, but Hammer\u2019s face made him change his mind. They all sat down in the front row with their heads down.<\/p>\n
Principal Davidson gave a short, awkward introduction. He didn\u2019t have as much power as usual because of the situation. Then Sam went on stage and took off his scarf as he got close to the mic.<\/p>\n
He started, \u201cMy name is Sam Reeves.\u201d His voice was steady and clear. \u201cI\u2019m here today because a boy who should be here with you isn\u2019t.\u201d His name was Michael Collins. Mikey to his friends, if he was allowed to have any.<\/p>\n
The whole hall went silent as hundreds of teenage eyes locked on this strange speaker.<\/p>\n
Michael hanged himself in the basement of his dad three weeks ago. Left a note listing four kids at this school who had been bullying him nonstop. He was told to k.i.l.l. himself. He did it.<\/p>\n
He took a moment to really think about those words. There were four boys in the front row who were moving around while the whole class looked at them.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not here to make threats.\u201d I\u2019m here to talk about what will happen. And not just for those four boys. For everyone in this room who saw what was going on but did nothing. Didn\u2019t do anything.<\/p>\n
Sam and the other Steel Angels talked about flying and suicide for forty minutes. They talked about the sons, daughters, nieces, and cousins they had lost. They showed shots of happy kids who were no longer there.<\/p>\n
Angel, a woman, then stepped forward. There was no way she was taller than five feet, but her presence filled the room.<\/p>\n
Her speech was steady even though her eyes showed pain, \u201cMy daughter Emma killed herself when she was sixteen.\u201d \u201cWell-known girl. Girl who cheers. She hid her pain so well that no one knew she was in pain. But the words on her phone were what really happened. Girls she thought were her friends told her she wasn\u2019t worth anything. Online, boys rate her body parts.<\/p>\n
She turned her attention to the four boys in the front row. \u201cYou believe you are kidding. Having fun. Being tough. But words can hurt, and some cuts don\u2019t show.<\/p>\n
By the end, a number of kids were crying out loud. One girl got up and, through tears, admitted that she had known Mikey was lying but hadn\u2019t said anything because she was afraid of what would happen. After them came more confessions and apologies. It was too late for my son, but they might have saved another child.<\/p>\n
At the end of the show, there was a moment of silence for Mikey and all the other kids who died because of bullying. People from the school stopped to talk to the bikers as they were leaving. They asked questions, told stories, and signed anti-bullying pledges that the club had brought.<\/p>\n
The four boys tried to sneak away quickly, but Sam caught them.<\/p>\n
He just said, \u201cWe\u2019ll be watching.\u201d \u201cNot just us. Everyone now. Don\u2019t forget that.<\/p>\n
They gave a pale nod and ran off quickly.<\/p>\n
Davidson came up to me as the theater was emptying out. I couldn\u2019t read his face. \u201cThat was\u2026 interesting, Mr. Collins.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, it was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I hope you understand that I can\u2019t have people who aren\u2019t supposed to be there bothering the school like this again.\u201d No matter how good their intentions are.<\/p>\n
I looked at him, this man who turned away from my worries and let down my son. \u201cDon\u2019t worry about that, Mr. Davidson.\u201d \u201cI quit.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes got a little bigger. \u201cStop?\u201d You\u2019ve been with us for\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-six years.\u201d During that time, I never saw a kid in pain without trying to help them. \u201cThat\u2019s not true for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He stood there while I walked away. It was the first time in weeks that I felt good.<\/p>\n
Those four boys never went back to Lakewood High School. After bikers started showing up at school events and football games, just watching quietly from a distance, they quietly left. There were no threats or fights. Just being there. Thoughts.<\/p>\n
Those three school systems had to follow the bullying awareness program that the Steel Angels put on that day. News stories about the \u201cBiker Intervention,\u201d as they called it, made people all over the country talk about how to stop bullying and suicide.<\/p>\n
At the end of the school year, Davidson quit. The new director was a woman whose brother had died of suicide when he was a teenager. She made strict rules against bullying. Mrs. Abernathy was in charge of a program that taught students how to spot and report lies among their peers.<\/p>\n
I sold my house. I couldn\u2019t stand to look at that garage any longer. Some of the money was used to create a grant in Mikey\u2019s honor for students who are interested in art, which was his true love.<\/p>\n
I keep Sam\u2019s number in my phone. When the sadness gets too much, I sometimes call him. I ride with them sometimes when they go to other funerals to watch over other kids who died too soon. It\u2019s not a nice Honda, but it gets me where I need to go. I learned how to ride from Sam. said I was good at it.<\/p>\n
We went to a funeral last week in a town three counties away. Another boy, another murder victim, and another broken family. As we parked our bikes outside the graveyard, a father came up to me. His eyes were hollow and had red edges around them.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you with them?\u201d\u201cWhat are they?\u201d he asked, pointing at the Steel Angels.<\/p>\n
I replied, \u201cYes.\u201d \u201cWe\u2019re here for your son.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded, but he didn\u2019t know what to say. \u201cWhen I saw you all pull in, I thought\u2026 for the first time since it happened, I thought\u2026 maybe this could turn out well.\u201d<\/p>\n
When I put my hand on his shoulder, I could feel the pain of his sadness. I knew those pains all too well.<\/p>\n
I said, \u201cIt will.\u201d \u201cNot today.\u201d Not tomorrow. It will happen, though.<\/p>\n
As my friend and I walked toward the church, thunder rolled across the sky. It was a deep, powerful sound that felt like it was shaking the ground. There might be a storm coming or just going by.<\/p>\n
The dad looked up, then back at me with a smile that wasn\u2019t quite there. He said, \u201cHe always loved storms.\u201d \u201cThey said it sounded like the sky was talking.\u201d<\/p>\n
I nodded, fully understanding. \u201cSo does my Mikey.\u201d<\/p>\n
With our rusty bikes and worn-out looks, I sometimes feel like that\u2019s what we are now: Steel Angels. We\u2019re the sound that follows the storm. We\u2019re the sound that stays after a child\u2019s voice has been turned off.<\/p>\n
We\u2019re the promise that someone is hearing you, even if it seems like no one is.<\/p>\n
No one thinks that fifty bikes will show up for one child. Things will be different when they do.<\/p>\n
It might even save the next child. The person who is currently writing a farewell note. The person who might hear our thunder and decide to wait. To find out what tomorrow brings.<\/p>\n
I have to think that\u2019s true for Mikey\u2019s sake.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
No one could have known that fifty bikers would show up at the funeral for my son. Most certainly not the four teens who killed him. It\u2019s never been my thing to cry. Working as a high school cleaner for 26 years made me tough and taught me how to hold everything in. The first […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-28856","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28856","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=28856"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28856\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":28857,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28856\/revisions\/28857"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=28856"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=28856"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/newzdiscover.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=28856"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}