A teenage girl who was crying begged bikers at the gas station for aid. Everyone inside was already calling 911 because they felt the bikers were disturbing her.
I saw the leather-clad motorcyclists make a tight circle around her from my pickup. She was no older than 15, barefoot, and shivering in a torn-up piece of clothing.
The person at the station was swinging his phone around like crazy and informing the person on the other end that “a biker gang was kidnapping some girl.”
But I knew better. I had seen something that no one else had noticed five minutes prior.
The girl fell out of a black car that drove away as soon as she closed the door.
She had collapsed next to pump three and was crying so hard that she couldn’t catch her breath. The Thunder Road MC, which had 47 members, stopped for gas on their annual charity trip.
My name is Marcus, and I’ve been riding since I came back from Vietnam in 1973. That morning, I drove my truck instead of riding my bike because my bike was in the repair.
I’ve been a member of Thunder Road for 32 years, but no one knew who I was without my helmet and cut.
The first person to view the girl was Big John, the lead rider. John is 71 years old and used to be a Marine. He has four children of his own.
He shut off his engine immediately away and walked approaching her with his hands in plain sight and moving slowly.
“Miss?” Are you all right? His voice was quiet, which was not what most people assumed a 280-pound biker would sound like.
The girl had mascara running down her cheeks and was backing away.
“Don’t hurt me, please,” she begged in a quiet voice. “Please, I won’t tell anyone anything.”
That’s when the other horsemen dismounted. They weren’t being confrontational; they were standing with their backs to her and facing outward in a protective circle.
We learnt how to do this at charity events when kids became too exuberant. Create a safe spot.
Tank, our road captain, had taken off his leather jacket, even though it was only forty degrees outdoors. He put it on the ground next to the girl and then moved back.
Tank had told her, “No one will hurt you, sweetheart.” “But you seem cold. That’s my jacket if you want it.
I saw her place the jacket over her shoulders. It devoured her. Tank is 6’4″ tall and has a body that looks like a tank.
But people were going crazy inside the gas station. Two customers hurried to their cars. The attendant was on his second phone call, which may have been to every police officer in the county.
I got closer and acted like I was checking the air pump for my tire pressure.
“What’s your name, honey? Big John was still begging, but he was still far away.
The girl said through her sobs, “Ashley.” “I… I need to go home.” I need to see my mom.
“Where is home?”
“Millerville.” It’s… about two hours distant from here.
I saw the bikers gaze at each other. We were headed to the toy drive, but Millerville was the exact opposite.
“How did you get here, Ashley?” Tank asked.
The girl started to cry more.
“I was so dumb. I met him online. He said he was 17. He picked me up last night to go to the movies. But he wasn’t 17 years old. He was old, maybe 30. He didn’t take me to the movies.
My heart fell. People on bikes there sat up a little straighter.
“He brought me to a home. There were other men there. They…
Ashley pulled on Tank’s jacket more tightly.
“I was lucky.” Someone knocked on the door because the person who delivered the pizza went to the wrong address. I ran when they opened it. I just ran.
He got in his car because it had the keys in it and drove it until it ran out of petrol about a mile away. He saw me as I walked. He promised to take me home, but he just left me here.
John pulled out his phone. He wasn’t contacting the cops; he was calling Linda, his wife.
“Hey, baby? Yes, I need you to meet me at the Route 42 Chevron. Bring Sarah with you. There’s an issue.
Their daughter, Sarah, was a social worker who helped people who had been trafficked.
The first police car came then, with its lights flashing. Officer Daniels, who is about 25 years old, jumped out with his revolver in his hand.
“Leave the girl alone!” he cried.
The bikers didn’t move. They stayed in their protected area.
“Get back!” I said.
Big John rotated a little bit, but you could still see his hands. “Officer, this girl needs help.” Someone has hurt her. “We’re keeping her safe until—”
“I don’t care what you’re doing. “Go now!”
Ashley stood up, and Tank’s jacket fell on the ground. “These people are helping me! “Please, they’re not the bad guys!”
But Daniels didn’t care. He asked for help and stated there were “about fifty angry bikers who wouldn’t listen to orders.”
Three more police cars arrived in just a few minutes. Then five more. Someone had stated that a kidnapping was happening, and it could have been human trafficking.
The officers established their own circle and barked several orders while holding their firearms. The motorcyclists stayed where they were, not moving or becoming violent.
I heard Tank say, “This is going to go wrong.”
Ashley accomplished something that probably saved lives at that time. She walked right through the circle of bikers and up to the cops, still wearing Tank’s jacket.
“Please!” She cried, “These guys saved me!” The real bad guys are in a black car with a K4X registration plate. Somewhere, they reside in a house with other girls. “Please pay attention!”
Officer Daniels took her arm and brought her behind the police line. “Don’t worry; you’re safe now.”
“I was already safe!” Ashley protested, but they were putting her in a police car.
John came over. “Officers, that girl was sold into prostitution.” She needs to go to the hospital and—
“On the ground!” Now!”
Things moved swiftly after that. All of the people on motorcycles were veterans, fathers, and grandfathers. They all gently got down on their knees. Put their hands on their heads. They were able to do this. They had done it before and were guilty of riding in a way that made them look intimidating.
I couldn’t stay quiet any longer. I walked up to Officer Daniels.
“I saw everything that happened, son.” That girl was left here by traffickers. These bikers were looking out for her.
Daniel didn’t look at me too much. “Sir, please stay back.” “We’ve got this under control.”
“No, you don’t.” “You’re taking the wrong people into custody.”
They put cuffs on all 47 riders. Every one of them. The TV crews that had come were filming a “dangerous biker gang caught trying to kidnap someone.”
But Ashley was being quite loud in the patrol car. Kicking the windows and screamed that they were wrong. Lastly, a female officer opened the door to calm her down.
Ashley pointed to Big John. “That guy told his wife to come help me!” His daughter is a social worker. “Look at his phone!”
Sergeant Martinez, the female cop, looked back and forth between Ashley and the bikers, as her nameplate said. There was a change in her face.
“Daniels,” she said. “Hold on a second.”
She walked over to Big John, who was kneeling with his hands bound behind his back.
“You called your wife?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Linda is driving our daughter Sarah to school. Sarah works for the government to help persons who have been sold into slavery.
Martinez snatched Big John’s phone out of his jacket pocket. Linda was right there with his last calls two minutes before the cops got there.
She called the number. I could hear Linda’s voice in a panic from fifteen feet away.
“Hey, John?” Is everything okay, John? We’re five minutes away! “Is the girl okay?”
Martinez’s face changed completely. “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Martinez with the police.” Your spouse is in jail. “You said you were coming here?”
“Yes, with my daughter!” She is a social worker. John got in touch because a trafficked child needed help. Is everything well with John? Is the girl okay?
Martinez looked at Ashley in the patrol car, then at the 47 motorcyclists on their knees, and finally at Officer Daniels.
“Take off their cuffs,” she said in a low voice.
“Hey, Sarge?”
“Take remove their cuffs right now. All of them.
As the officers were taking off the handcuffs, Martinez walked over to Ashley with a notebook.
“Tell me about the vehicle.” Please tell me about the house. “Remember every little thing.”
Ashley started to talk fast. Old black car. It took around 40 minutes to get to the residence. The porch light was broken and the siding was blue. She saw three men inside. Voices of other girls coming from above.
