On our way home from shopping, my eight-year-old daughter suddenly grabbed my hand. “Mom, quick, into the bathroom!” She pulled me into a stall and locked the door. “What’s going on?” I asked. She whispered, “Shh… don’t move. Look…” Then she peeked under the door. I followed her gaze—and froze in fear.

my chest so no light would leak under the stall.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher answered.

I whispered, “I’m in the women’s restroom at Westbridge Mall. A man followed me and my daughter into a stall. He’s filming under the door. He knows my daughter’s name. Please send police.”

The dispatcher’s tone sharpened instantly. “Stay where you are.continue reading …