That’s when I noticed what the boy had been gripping so tightly – the memorial patch on my vest that read “RIP Thunder Mike, 1975-2025.”

The kid looked me straight in the eyes, something his mother later told me he never did with anyone, and said clear as day: “You’re Eagle. Daddy said find Eagle if I’m scared. Eagle keeps promises.”

I had no idea who this kid was. I’d never seen him or his mother before in my life. But apparently Thunder Mike knew exactly what he was doing when he taught his son to recognize my patch.

The mother was now sobbing uncontrollably, trying to explain through her tears. “My husband… Mike… he died six months ago on his bike.

He always said if anything happened, if Tommy was ever in trouble, find the