“I gave her my word,” he said.
CPS didn’t make it easy. Nearly seventy. Single. Motorcycle club member. Not their idea of a typical foster parent. But he fought. He brought character witnesses. Hired an attorney. Completed every class and background check required. After weeks of scrutiny, he was granted emergency foster custody.
“I told the court I would bring her to see you every week,” he said. “Until you’re released.”
Every week.
I asked him why. He didn’t know me. He didn’t owe me anything.
He looked at me through the glass.
“Because I was you once,” he said quietly.
Decades ago, he had been incarcerated. His wife died in an accident. His son entered foster care and was adopted before he was released. He never saw him again.
“I couldn’t watch that happen to someone else,” he said.
And he kept his promise.
