When 18-year-old Leo noticed a black SUV circling the local playground for the fifth time, he knew something was wrong.
But as a young man living on the streets, he knew that calling the police often resulted in him being moved along rather than being heard.
Desperate and sensing a predator in the shadows, he walked up to a group of Hells Angels at the corner diner and whispered five chilling words, "That car is watching the kids." What happened next was a masterclass in street justice.
The Hells Angels didn't call for backup, they were the backup. It began on a hot Saturday afternoon at Miller Park.
Leo was 18, but his eyes looked like they belonged to a man of 50. He had spent the last two years navigating the concrete labyrinth of the city after his foster mother passed away and the state decided he was old enough to be on his own. Leo didn't beg and he didn't cause trouble. He was a silent observer of the neighborhood's heartbeat.