My heart dropped the moment I saw a police car parked in front of our house. The lights weren’t flashing, but that didn’t ease the tight knot forming in my stomach. Two officers stood on our lawn, and my nine-year-old son Isaiah was with them. As a Black mother, I couldn’t help but brace myself for the worst, all kinds of thoughts racing through my mind.
With Desmond at work, I took a deep breath and stepped outside, trying to steady my voice as I called out, “Isaiah?”
To my surprise, he turned with a wide grin and ran toward me. The officer closest to him—a white man with a buzz cut—gave me a small smile. “Ma’am, your son is a bit of a hero today.”
Hero? The word didn’t quite land. I looked between Isaiah and the other officer, a Black woman who offered a calming nod, but my body stayed tense.
“There was a suspect running through the area,” the officer continued. “He was wanted for a string of car break-ins. We almost lost him—until your son stepped in.”
Isaiah bounced on his feet, full of excitement. “I used my—”
I reached for his arm before he could finish. “You helped the police?” I asked gently, searching his expression. I wasn’t angry—just trying to understand.
He nodded proudly. “Yeah! I helped them catch him!”
The female officer smiled. “He really did. It was impressive.”
That’s when I noticed the familiar object in Isaiah’s hand—his summer camp slingshot. Desmond had helped him build it and made sure he knew how to use it responsibly, never aiming at people or animals.
“How exactly did he use that?” I asked, keeping my tone even.
Officer Clark explained that they had been chasing a suspect who jumped into our yard, just as Isaiah was outside practicing. “Your son loaded a small pebble, aimed for the man’s leg, and hit him. The guy stumbled, and we caught up to him.”
Isaiah nodded enthusiastically. “I didn’t want to hurt him bad. I just wanted to slow him down so the police could get him.”
Relief, pride, and a touch of fear washed over me all at once. “You really did that?” I asked, placing a hand over my chest.
“I’m okay, Mom. Really,” Isaiah said.
Officer Barnes stepped forward. “We understand this might be a lot to take in, but he really made a difference. It took courage to act like that.”
As the tension began to ease, I thanked them, still trying to wrap my head around it. Isaiah stood beside me, holding up his slingshot like a badge of honor.
Later, after inviting the officers in for water, we sat down and talked more. Officer Clark explained that the man had been connected to break-ins in several neighborhoods and that Isaiah’s quick action might have prevented more crimes.
Officer Barnes looked at Isaiah with care. “We never want children to put themselves in danger, and it’s not something we encourage. But what you did helped us today.”
Isaiah nodded, suddenly more serious. “I saw you chasing him. I just wanted to help.”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Helping is good, but you always have to be careful. Not everyone reacts the same way.”
Officer Clark agreed. “That’s true. It turned out okay this time, but things can go wrong quickly.”
Then Officer Barnes turned to me. “Our department does a monthly ceremony to recognize community members who help keep others safe. We’d like to honor Isaiah with a certificate and a photo with the chief.”
I looked at Isaiah, whose eyes had lit up with excitement. I smiled and nodded. “He’d be honored.”