GUILTY: The Man Who Killed a Pregnant Woman and Her Unborn Child Will Never Be Free.6153

To the Family in the Red SUV at Tim Horton’s Today

I’m that big guy you saw at Tim Horton’s — the one with the motorcycles, covered in tattoos, loud and rough around the edges. I’m a welder by trade, I drink beer, I swear, and yes, I probably look like I might eat your soul if you glance at me the wrong way.

But here’s what you don’t see: I’ve been happily married for eleven years. My kids call me Daddy, and that’s the proudest title I’ll ever hold. I’m a college graduate, and my mother brags to everyone she knows about having such a wonderful son. My nieces and nephews light up when they see their “m’noncl Luc,” and when my little girl broke her arm, I cried harder than she did. I read books — not just the kind you think I’d read — and I make a point to help people whenever I can. I go out of my way to thank veterans because I know the price they’ve paid. I even cried watching Armageddon — yeah, that movie.

So when I smiled at your little girl and said hello, and you grabbed her arm and whispered, “No no dear, we don’t talk to dirty bikers,” it cut me deeper than you can imagine. You didn’t see the man behind the tattoos and the tough exterior. You didn’t see a father who would run into a burning house without a second thought. You didn’t see the man who would rescue your little girl’s goldfish just to keep her from crying.

I’m not just a “dirty biker.” I’m a husband, a father, a son, an uncle, and a friend. I’m someone who cares deeply, who feels deeply, and who would risk everything to protect the people I love — even if I don’t fit the mold of what you expect.

So the next time you see someone like me, please remember there’s more beneath the surface. Because this “dirty biker” would be the first one at your door when things go wrong — not to harm you, but to help.