Life’s a real jerk sometimes, stomping on good folks for no reason. My best friend Jake, he’s the kind of guy who’d help anybody, but he got burned bad for it. I’m Sam, been his buddy since we were kids, and I’m still pissed about what happened to him. This story’s tough to tell, but it needs telling.

Jake grew up with nothing. Mom worked all the time, dad was long gone. Didn’t make him bitter, though. He was always fixing stuff for neighbors or giving his sandwich to some hungry kid at school. We met when we were ten, after he stood up for me when some bullies were picking on me. “Ain’t worth your time,” he told ‘em, cool as anything. That’s Jake—big heart, no fuss.

Last winter, we were at this crummy bar, drinking cheap beer and talking about nothing special. Jake kept looking out the window, where this little kid, maybe five or six, was standing in the cold. No jacket, just a T-shirt, shaking like crazy. Jake’s face got all serious. “That ain’t right,” he said, and he was out the door before I could blink.

I went after him. Jake was crouched down, talking soft to the kid. “You okay, buddy? Where’s your mom?” The kid mumbled something, then started walking toward the street. A truck was coming, way too fast. Jake didn’t think twice—he grabbed the kid and pulled him back just as the truck zoomed by. I was like, Holy crap, that was close.

Then it all went to hell. This woman runs up, yelling, “Let my son go!” The kid’s crying, Jake’s trying to explain, but she’s freaking out. Some guys from the bar come out, and one of ‘em shouts, “He’s trying to kidnap him!” People start crowding around, screaming stuff. I’m yelling, “He saved the kid!” but it’s like talking to a wall. Cops show up, slap cuffs on Jake, and he’s looking at me, scared. “Sam, tell ‘em what happened,” he says. They shove him in the car, and my gut’s all twisted up.

After that, it was a nightmare. The news called Jake a “child abductor,” plastered his picture everywhere. He lost his job at the auto shop, got kicked out of his apartment. People we knew just turned their backs. I went to the cops, told ‘em Jake was a hero, but they said the mom’s story was enough. The kid was too shook up to say much, so that was it.

Court was even worse. The lawyer made Jake sound like some creep, saying he “planned” to take the kid. The mom stuck to her story, too proud to back down. I got on the stand, told ‘em how Jake risked his life, but the jury didn’t care. They gave him two years. Two damn years for doing the right thing.

Jail messed Jake up bad. I’d visit, and he looked… empty. “I keep thinking about that truck,” he said once, voice all quiet. “Maybe I shoulda just stood there.” It broke my heart, seeing him like that. I felt so useless.

A year and a half in, some lawyer found a video from a street camera. Showed Jake saving the kid, plain as day. They let him out, but it didn’t fix nothing. Jake’s not the same. He lives in this beat-up trailer now, keeps to himself. I go see him, but he’s like a stranger sometimes. “I’d save that kid again,” he told me, “but I ain’t counting on nobody to have my back.”

It eats me up, you know? Jake didn’t do nothing wrong, but life screwed him over. I’m mad—for him, for that kid who don’t even know he met a good man, for a world that don’t give a damn thing. Life’s got a way of hurting folks who don’t deserve it. If you got someone good in your life, keep ‘em close. They can be gone quicker than you think.