Eight-year-old Ryan Crosby sat at the dining table, his brow furrowed as he stared at his math textbook. Numbers danced around the page, mocking him.

“How am I supposed to solve this one?”

he muttered, feeling more overwhelmed by the minute.
Homework wasn’t usually this hard, but tonight felt different. The house was too quiet, and the problems in his

workbook too confusing. The internet wasn’t helping either—no video tutorial or search result could explain

the steps the way he needed. And then he remembered something his mother always told him.

“If you ever need help, don’t be scared to call 911.”

The dispatcher’s voice came through the phone, calm but curious.

“911. What’s your emergency?”

Ryan hesitated, then said plainly,

“I need help with my math homework.”

Silence.

The dispatcher blinked, unsure if she’d misheard.

“Come again? You need help with… math?”

“Yes,”

Ryan replied.

“My mom said if I ever need help, I can call 911.”

At first, the dispatcher assumed it was a prank—kids had been known to dial 911 around Halloween just for laughs. But something about Ryan’s voice didn’t sit right. This wasn’t a joke. She decided to ask more questions.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Ryan.”

“Okay, Ryan, this is an emergency line, not a tutoring service. Is everything alright? Is there an emergency?”

That’s when Ryan’s voice dropped.

“I wouldn’t have called if my mom was home.”

Her concern grew.

“Is there another adult with you?”

“No. I’m all alone.”

And just like that, the call shifted from puzzling to urgent.

The dispatcher kept Ryan on the line as she traced the call. Within minutes, officers were en route to his address. When they arrived, they found Ryan alone in the house—no babysitter, no guardian, and it was nearly 10 p.m.

“Ryan, where is your mother? How long have you been alone?”

an officer asked gently.
Ryan explained he had a spare key and had let himself in after school, but his mom never came home. Her phone was off. The officers immediately knew something was wrong.