While three grown men laughed and pinned him down, my eight-year-old son was nearly b:eat:en to d:ea:th in his grandfather’s driveway. Rushing to the emergency room, all I heard the doctors whispering were terrifying words like brain swelling and concussion…

in the shadows with men capable of unspeakable atrocities, learning to maintain a resting pulse while plaster rained down from bullet fire. But hearing my little boy recount how three grown men immobilized him on a driveway while his grandfather laughed? It woke a dormant, terrifying leviathan within my chest.

Toby’s lower lip quivered violently. “Grandpa continue reading …