A witness mentioned seeing a teenager wearing a gray hoodie nearby.
Logan had walked past that location on his way home.
Officers questioned him, although he hadn’t been involved.
The actual teenagers responsible were identified shortly afterward.
Still, I remembered sitting beside Logan while he answered questions.
He looked so tired.
So disappointed.
“Mom, I didn’t do anything,” he whispered afterward.
“I know, honey.”
But inside, I worried.
Our small town was full of people who remembered every mistake.
And I feared that Logan was slowly becoming known for things that didn’t reflect who he truly was.
One evening, I sat beside him on his bed.
“Please be careful,” I said. “People make assumptions, and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
He looked at me.
“Okay, Mom.”
Then he promised he’d stay out of trouble.
I believed him.
But the worry never completely disappeared.
