The door opened. They started leading her out. That’s when I saw her face. Bruised. Crying. Dead eyes. She looked right at me. Mouthed two words: “Help me.”
I had exactly seven seconds to make a choice that would either save this girl’s life or get us both killed. So I pulled out my wallet, stepped in front of them, and said six words that made everyone in that gas station freeze: “I’ll give you ten thousand cash. Right now.”
I’ve seen evil. Combat. War crimes. Things that still wake me up at night fifty years later.
But nothing prepared me for what I heard through that bathroom wall at a gas station outside Kansas City at 3 AM.
Human trafficking. Right there. In the middle of America. At a truck stop like thousands of others.
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