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The little girl, whose name I later learned was Addison, held onto me as though I were her last chance for safety. As she clung to me, she whispered frantically between sobs that something was terribly wrong at home. She said her mother was in trouble and that the man who was now storming toward us was no longer someone she could trust. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I stepped in front of her, silently signaling that this man would have to get through me to get to her.
In that instant, the man stopped in his tracks. It was clear he knew he wasn’t going to intimidate this full-grown biker. For a split second, there was a pause — a breathless standoff — and then he made a quick, frustrated turn and started backing away. It was clear to him that he couldn’t exert control here. I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed 911, keeping my hand firmly on Addison’s, reassuring her as she continued to shake. The moment the man realized that people were watching and that I was taking control of the situation, he bolted.
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