By Nada Khalaf-Jones
Laila was sitting in the shade by the side of the road near mile marker 7, with fire ants around her, when deputies found her, Monroe County Sheriff’s Office Capt. David Smith told me.
“She said she had fallen off her bike and hurt her ankle, but I asked her to walk if she could, and she did so just fine,” Smith said.
My daughter is 21. She does her own laundry, sometimes cooks for herself, and taps her own debit card at the register. She’s carrying an 85% in her Intro to Hospitality & Tourism class at the College of the Florida Keys. She has Down syndrome, plays flag football with Special Olympics, and rides an adult trike. On Monday, Oct. 5, she set out on it for her shift at work.
All I knew was what Life360 showed me: Laila leaving for work on time and moving fast. I didn’t pay attention to which way she turned after College Road. She often takes the bus or an Uber, and I was working with my phone off. The next I heard was from one of her coaches, then from my husband in Argentina. Messages started popping up on my laptop, and then Laila’s phone was calling me.
Her journey had taken her north instead of south, about 3 miles out of town.
People will tell you it’s crazy to let a young woman like Laila ride alone. Every parent of a child with special needs hears it, usually from people who mean well. The other choice is a life where she never gets to find out what she can do. We pick independence, and we pray a little.
On Monday the answer to that prayer was Monroe County Sheriff’s Office Capt. David Smith, Deputies Brandon Rogers and Igor Timmins, and Lt. Carson of Monroe County Fire Rescue.
I spoke first to Deputy Rogers, then to Lieutenant Carson, and finally to Captain Smith. Laila gave them her address, showed them copies of her driver’s license, and they reached her dad. I was not, at any point, angry or worried. I knew Laila was in the best hands.
They were all utterly positive. Lt. Carson told her she was brave and tough and making the right choices, and he was sure she would still work her shift. Plenty of people let fear lead them. Laila loves her freedom, and he met that with encouragement. The real question that day wasn’t whether Laila was lost. It was whether she could decide things for herself, and they answered it by treating her as if she could.
She worked her shift.
At 5:30 that evening I arrived at Laila’s work to take a photo of the deputies who had helped her. She was busy bagging groceries, happy and confident, and happy to see me. Then the three deputies came in and hugged her up. On the ride to Publix, she told me, they’d talked about favorite TV shows. (Hers is the Power Rangers.) Not one of them criticized her for being out and about on her own. I loved hearing her make decisions for herself.
Their advice was practical, not a lecture. Maybe more Ubers in the future. Definitely a Google map she can follow — and a phone mount for the tricycle. An emergency contact card in her wallet, or a bracelet or necklace. Laila doesn’t like wearing either, but she now has an In Case of Emergency contact in her phone.
I’ve written about and photographed this community since 2008. Those were mostly other people’s stories: reef restorers, fishermen, shop owners, kids in a park. This one is mine, so I’ll say it plainly. I’m Laila’s mother, and I’m grateful.
Independence for someone like Laila happens on the road, on a trike, on a highway shoulder, with whoever shows up when the day goes sideways. Those people can turn a scary afternoon into a lesson or into a reason to never let her go again. Ours made it a lesson.
Somewhere in Key West there are three sheriff’s deputies and a fire rescue lieutenant who probably think they just did their jobs on a Monday. They did, but they did it with kindness. That’s why I’m writing it down.
Laila’s small cuts and burns from Monday are her warrior badges. She rode about three miles the wrong way. From now on she’s going the right way, and she isn’t quitting.
