I’m a widowed mom raising my 13-year-old son. Since my husband passed, I’ve been working two jobs to give him some comfort. It hasn’t been easy, but I do my best.
The other day, while cleaning his room, I found $3,250 in his piggy bank! Later that evening, he told me he was going to a classmate’s birthday party after school. Something didn’t sit right, so I called the boy’s mom — and found out there was no party planned. In that moment, I knew I had to follow him the next day.
And let me tell you — I was not prepared for what I saw. After school, I watched as he walked into a run-down laundromat on the edge of our neighborhood. He looked around nervously before heading to the back where there was a side door leading to the alley.
My heart raced. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but all sorts of thoughts started running through my head. Drugs? Gangs? Was he being blackmailed?
I waited a few moments, then quietly followed. When I peeked into the alley, I saw him handing an envelope—stuffed, from the looks of it—to a man in his twenties. They exchanged a few words, and the man handed him something small in return. My legs almost gave out. I pulled out my phone to snap a photo, but just then, the man walked away, and my son turned—and saw me.
