“Me: Hello?
Wife: Has Canaan called you?
Me: No, is he okay?
Wife: Apparently, he’s a hero and a dumba**. He called me to say he wrestled a man who was trying to hurt some kids at a gas station in Dona Ana. We hung up and now I can’t get a hold of him.
Me: Say what…I’ll go find him.
I began calling my 16-year-old son who was on spring break from school. After the first no answer, I drove the 4 minutes from my house to the gas station. The doors were locked—no one was being let in. Afraid for my son’s safety, not knowing where he was at or what condition he might be in, I was paranoid and frantically trying to find him. I called the gas station as I drove through town looking for his truck. No sign of his truck. No answer on his phone. Is he at a hospital? Maybe he’s at the police station. Wherever he is, he needs an adult with him who is on his side and has his best interest in mind.
The clerk answered the phone in a shaky voice, clearly upset and out of breath: Hello?
Me: Yes ma’am, I understand there was a situation there a little while ago?
Clerk: Uh-huh.
Me: I was told my son was there and may have gotten involved with a guy, possibly even fighting the guy?
Clerk: Is your son tall and strong with black hair?
Me: Yes!