Months After My 4-Year-Old Daughter Died, I Saw a Man in a Chicken Costume – When He Turned, My Blood Went Cold

“You have no right to any of this.”

That was it. The moment when everything crystallized into sharp, clear focus.

I stood and pulled out my phone.

His face drained of color.

All that practiced calm evaporated like steam.

I dialed 911 and kept my eyes locked on his while the phone rang in my ear.

“You wouldn’t,” he said again, but this time it sounded like a question. Like he was just now realizing he’d miscalculated.

When the operator answered, Evan’s survival instinct kicked in.

He scooped Addie up in his arms and ran.

I followed them, phone pressed to my ear as I spoke to the 911 operator.

The little girl’s pink balloon bobbed above the crowd like a beacon, making it easy to track them even as Evan ducked and weaved through festival-goers.

People shouted as he pushed past them.

“There’s a man in a chicken costume,” I panted into the phone. “Running with a small child. My child.

Please hurry.”

Addie was crying now. I could hear her frightened sobs even from a distance, and they tore at something deep in my chest.

She didn’t understand what was happening.

By the time we reached the parking lot, police cruisers were already pulling in from two different directions.

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