I was driving home from my third job, utterly exhausted, with my three girls cramped in the back seat. My car wasn’t exactly ideal—there were no proper car seats, just some old booster cushions I’d found at a thrift store. With rent, groceries, and bills piling up, new car seats felt like a luxury I simply couldn’t afford. I figured that if I kept my head down and drove safely, maybe no one would notice.
But as soon as I passed an intersection, flashing lights appeared in my rearview mirror. I pulled over, already bracing myself for a ticket that would set me back more than I could handle this month. Two officers approached my window with a mix of politeness and seriousness. They quickly spotted that my daughters were not properly secured—their little legs dangled freely. My stomach sank.
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