“You killed a hero,” she told him, her voice deadly calm. “A man who ran toward danger to save babies while you shot him for wearing leather.”
Three minutes and forty-five seconds. That’s how long it took us to stop the shooter. Unarmed. No tactical gear. Just veterans who knew the sound of gunfire meant people needed help.
- Saved 47 children who were in the direct path of the shooter
- Evacuated 116 students during the chaos
- Administered first aid to 3 wounded teachers
- Stopped an active shooter with zero fatalities until police arrived
And yet Spider died. Not from the shooter’s bullets, but from a cop who saw a biker and assumed “threat.”
At the hearing six months later, seven-year-old Laura Chen stood before the commission investigating the shooting. She’d been in that closet, one of the fourteen kids Mrs. Patterson was protecting.
“The bad man was going to hurt us,” she said in her small voice. “Mrs. Patterson was bleeding. Then the biker angels came. Spider looked scary but he was gentle. He said ‘It’s okay, little one. Nobody’s going to hurt you now.’ Then the police hurt him.”
The room was silent except for muffled sobs.
Officer Bradley, the first responder who’d waited outside, resigned. In his letter, he wrote: “While I followed protocol, men with no duty to act did what I should have done. They saved lives while I waited for backup. I can’t wear this badge knowing I prioritized procedure over children.”
Captain Torres implemented new training—specifically about recognizing good Samaritans versus threats. She invited our club to participate, to help officers understand that leather vests don’t equal criminal intent.
“We failed,” she said publicly. “We shot heroes and let fear override judgment. Spider’s death is on us.”
But Tom, from his wheelchair—he’d never ride again—said something that haunts me.Continue reading…
