I was waiting at the terminal for my delayed flight when a lost-looking youngster passed me. I made sure the child knew where he was going because there were no parents nearby. I inquired whether he was okay with a polite grin.
He shook his head, crying.
“Don’t cry. We’ll find your parents. Are you carrying tickets or documents?
With large, wet eyes, he nodded and gently unzipped his bag and gave it to me without saying a word.
I PALED when I noticed a huge stack of rubber-banded $100 dollars inside. At least 10 grand, probably more.
My expression froze as I tried to not startle him. “Hi buddy… Your name?
He murmured “Yanis”. His voice sounded faint.
“All right, Yanis… Where are your parents?
He glanced down and didn’t reply.
I signaled us to sit on a seat away from the crowd. I kept looking around, half-expecting someone to run over and yell that he took their bag by mistake. But nobody arrived. He was alone. I noticed his fatigue more as I looked. His sneakers were worn and his sweater had a sleeve hole.
“Yanis, is that money yours?” I asked quietly.
He paused, then nodded. I got it from my uncle. I was instructed to give it to a red-jacketed guy at Gate C12.
My stomach twisted. Strange sounding.
I asked him where his uncle was currently.
“He left. He claimed he had to depart. Told me not to talk to anyone.”
It was impossible not to take a deep breath and relax. This might be trafficking or the youngster was being utilized to transport something. Either way, it was unsafe.
I handed him a granola bar from my backpack and said I’d assist him, but first I wanted to get him to a secure place. He clutched the granola bar like gold.
We headed to the information desk and I requested airport security. When they came, I carefully explained everything while staying with Yanis to make him feel less alone.
When the officer looked inside the backpack, his demeanor altered. Since I located him, I agreed to accompany them for interrogation. Behind security, we were taken to a private room. Yanis held onto my hand.
It was considerably more complex than I expected.
Yanis had been missing in Arizona for two weeks, when authorities checked. He disappeared with his uncle, who purportedly “wanted to take him to the zoo”; his mother reported him. Since then, she searched ceaselessly.
Officers contacted local authorities and called his mother. Yanis briefly spoke to her, and I swear, seeing his face light up about shattered me. He continued repeating, “Mommy? Mommy?” repeatedly, as if he couldn’t believe her.
What about money? It existed. Of course, confiscated. They believed it was being used to hide illegal narcotics or other transfers. Yanis was only a front. That bit still makes me nauseous.
Before I departed, the officer praised me and said I possibly changed that boy’s life. Not sure about it. I knew I couldn’t ignore him. He appeared little and forlorn.
A week later, I was called. Yanis’ mother. She got my number from the case officer. The moment she spoke, she cried. Her son is now safe at home, she said. She claimed he talked about “the airport lady” who handed him a granola bar and stayed with him.
I wept that night. Relief, not despair.
Sometimes I think about him. I hope he realizes he’s stronger than his exploiters.
I learnt to trust my instincts. Speak up. Join in. Maybe only you does.
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