That caught their attention. Within minutes, a TSA supervisor arrived, followed by Port Authority police officers. They took the boy aside, searched him, and inspected his torn backpack: nothing dangerous. Even so, Edward refused to leave.
“Search the plane,” he insisted.
The tension dragged on for half an hour. Passengers were protesting, the airline was asking for calm, and Edward’s phone kept ringing with calls from colleagues asking why he wasn’t boarding. He ignored it all.
The dog stopped, barked loudly, and scratched at a container. The technicians ran. Inside a box labeled “technical equipment” was a rudimentary device: explosives with wires and a timer.
A scream echoed through the terminal. Those who had previously rolled their eyes now paled. The officers evacuated the area and called in the bomb squad.
Edward felt a lurch in his stomach. The boy was right. If he had left, hundreds of lives—including his own—would have been lost.
The boy sat in a corner, knees drawn up to his chest, invisible amidst the chaos. No one thanked him. No one approached him. Edward walked toward him.
-“What is your name?”
—“Tyler. Tyler Reed.”
—“Where are your parents?”
The boy shrugged.
—“I don’t have one. I’ve been alone for two years.”
When the FBI arrived to take statements, Edward intervened:
“He’s not a threat. He’s the reason we’re still alive.”
That night, news outlets across the country repeated the headline: Homeless boy warns of JFK bomb and saves hundreds. Edward’s name appeared as well, but he declined interviews: the story wasn’t about him.
The truth left everyone speechless: a boy no one believed saw what no one else saw, and his voice—trembling but firm—stopped a tragedy.
In the following days, Edward couldn’t get Tyler out of his head. The conference in Los Angeles went on without him; he didn’t care. For the first time, business seemed insignificant compared to what had happened.
Three days later, Edward located Tyler at a youth hostel in Queens. The director explained that the boy came and went, never staying long.
“He doesn’t trust people,” she said.
Edward waited outside. When Tyler appeared, his backpack slung over one skinny shoulder, he froze at the sight of him:
“You again?” he asked cautiously.
Edward smiled slightly:
