A Biker Followed My Teenage Daughter For Three Miles And I Called The Police

A biker followed my teenage daughter for three miles and I called the police. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my phone.

Emma was sobbing on the other line, driving our old Honda while this massive bearded man on a Harley stayed right behind her, matching every turn, every lane change, every desperate attempt to lose him.

“Mom, he won’t stop following me! I tried turning into different streets. He’s still there! I’m so scared!”

“Baby, stay on the phone. I’m calling 911 on the other line. Keep driving. Don’t stop. Go to the police station.”

I was at work twenty minutes away. Completely helpless. My sixteen-year-old daughter was being stalked by some biker and I couldn’t do anything except listen to her cry.

The 911 operator patched me through to dispatch. “Ma’am, we’re sending two units to intercept. Can your daughter describe the motorcycle?”

“Emma, what does the bike look like?”

“It’s black and loud and he’s wearing a leather vest with patches. Mom, he keeps getting closer. He’s waving at me to pull over. I’m not stopping. I’m not!”

“Don’t stop, baby. The police are coming.”

I heard sirens through Emma’s phone. Then I heard her scream.

“Mom! The police are here! They’re pulling him over! They’re—” She stopped.

“Emma? EMMA?”

“Mom, the police aren’t arresting him. They’re… they’re shaking his hand. They’re laughing. Mom, what’s happening?”

“Stay in your car. Lock the doors. I’m coming.”

I broke every speed limit getting there. When I arrived, I saw Emma’s Honda on the shoulder, two police cruisers, and the biker standing with officers like they were old friends. My daughter was still locked in her car, terrified.

I jumped out and ran to her. “Emma! Are you okay?”

She fell into my arms, sobbing. “Mom, I don’t understand what’s happening.”

One of the officers approached us. “Ma’am, are you the mother?”

“Yes! Why aren’t you arresting him? He followed my daughter for three miles! She’s sixteen years old!”

The officer held up his hands. “Ma’am, I need you to calm down. This is Thomas Reed. He’s a twenty-year veteran of the fire department and a member of the Guardian Angels motorcycle club. He wasn’t stalking your daughter.”

“Then why was he following her?”

The biker—Thomas—stepped forward. His face was gentle despite his intimidating appearance. “Ma’am, I’m sorry I scared your little girl. That was never my intention.”

“Then what WAS your intention?”

Thomas looked at Emma. “Sweetheart, do you remember the gas station about three miles back? Where you stopped for fuel?”

Emma nodded slowly, still clinging to me.

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