30/07/2025
No one expected fifty bikers at my son’s funeral—especially not the four teens who caused him so much pain.
I’m not one to show emotion. After 26 years as a school janitor, I kept my feelings locked away. But when motorcycles started arriving, shaking the ground, I finally broke.
My fourteen-year-old, Mikey, took his own life. He left a note naming four classmates who bullied him relentlessly.
The police said it was “sad but not criminal.” The principal offered “thoughts and prayers” and held the funeral during school hours to “avoid problems.”
I felt powerless.
Then Sam, a tall biker I knew from the gas station, came by. His nephew had suffered the same fate, and no one had stood up for him. He gave me a number and said, “Call if you want us there. No trouble, just support.”
At first, I didn’t call. But the night before the funeral, I found Mikey’s journal filled with pain and cruel messages.
I called.
“We expect about thirty people, no classmates,” I told Sam.
“They’re coming with families to ‘show support,’” I added.
“We’ll be there at nine,” he said. “You won’t worry.”
The next morning, fifty bikers lined the chapel entrance, forming a strong, protective line.
The funeral director asked if he should call security.
“They’re invited,” I said.
When the four boys arrived with their parents, fear replaced their confusion as Sam stepped forward and... (check in the first comment👇)
