Katie was a seven-year-old girl whose life was tragically cut short by cancer. Her final words before the illness stole her voice were whispered softly to a man she barely knew: “I wish I had a daddy like you.” These words were spoken to Big John, a 300-pound Harley rider with teardrop tattoos and hands as big as baseball mitts, who had accidentally found himself in Room 117 of Saint Mary’s Hospice while searching for a bathroom. That moment, that wrong turn, changed everything—not just for Katie, but for the group of rough, tattooed bikers who would come to care for her in the months that followed.Continue reading…
