He rode his blue mountain bike at an easy, comfortable pace. He noticed golden retrievers lounging in fenced yards and colorful plastic children's toys scattered on perfectly manicured lawns. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, and for a moment, Kendrick felt completely at peace in his new environment.
As Kendrick pedaled past a small neighborhood park equipped with a modern playground and several wooden benches, something caught his eye. About fifty feet ahead, he noticed a young boy, perhaps ten or eleven years old, struggling with a grown man.
At first, Kendrick squeezed his brakes and slowed down. He was unsure of what he was witnessing. Was it just a father playing roughly with his kid? But then he saw the boy's face. The child was red-faced and deeply distressed, pulling backward with all his might on the handlebars of a bright red bicycle.
The adult, dressed entirely in black, yanked harder. He was ruthlessly using his size and weight to overpower the child. A moment later, the man ripped the bicycle violently from the boy's grasp, swung his leg over the seat, and began to ride off.
"Hey, that's mine! Stop!" the boy shouted, his voice cracking with tears.