“Give me food, and I can help your son heal,” the girl said quietly, standing beside their table in the restaurant. Jonathan Pierce stopped chewing. The child before him couldn’t have been more than eleven. She was Black, small-framed, wearing a worn blue cotton dress. Though her hands were dirty, her hair was neatly tied back, as if she took pride in the little she had. Across from Jonathan sat his ten-year-old son, Ethan, motionless in his wheelchair. His legs rested limply beneath his jeans—t