My daughter was seven years old, and our next door neighbor was a little four year old boy that she would play with and she loved him. And we lived by a divided highway. Four lanes on one side. Four lanes, then a, a medium, and then four lanes on, on the other side going the opposite direction. And to get across there, there was an overwalk. You had to go up a bridge and walk over the eight lanes of highway and walk down another bridge and you’d be on the other side. Well, my daughter’s school was on the other side of the, the freeway — or, the highway.
I saw her go get the little boy and she was allowed to walk down to the mailbox and no farther. So she went and got the little boy and they walked down to the mailbox and I saw her go up the ramp. And I went and I got in the car and I followed her up the ramp and across the ramp and I got to the other side and I knew she was going to the school. So, I just followed along. She didn’t know I was following her. Mind, this was Detroit in the ‘80s. So, I wanted to make sure she was safe. And I followed her. And I followed her back home when she got — they got done on the playground there.
She walked back home with him. And when she got to the house, I had parked the car and I asked her, “Oh, my goodness, where have you been?”
And she said she walked down to the mailbox.
I said, “You didn’t walk any farther than the mailbox?”
“Oh no, Mama. I wouldn’t do that.”
I said, “You didn’t walk up to your school?”
“No! No, Mama, I would never do that.”
And bold face lied to my face.