On August 5, the first day of school at Loma Linda Elementary, a small act of kindness by two Phoenix police officers left a lasting imprint on a young girl’s heart—and reminded a community what compassion looks like in action.
As Officer Ben Carro directed traffic near the school, he noticed 7-year-old Leslie Gonzales walking alone, her cheeks streaked with tears. A concerned school aide, Jill Lebario, approached Leslie and learned the source of her distress: the little girl had arrived without a backpack, and her family couldn’t afford to buy one anytime soon. Though Lebario offered comforting words, Leslie’s sadness lingered.
That’s when Carro sprang into action. He called Community Action Officer Jon McLachlan, and together they dashed to a nearby Target. Minutes later, they returned with more than just a backpack. Leslie received a pink plaid backpack filled with supplies: a lunchbox, water bottle (perfect for her walk to school), folders, pens, markers, crayons, and even a ruler. By the time her first class ended, the officers surprised her with the gifts—transforming her tears into a radiant smile.
The Phoenix Police Department captured the moment in a heartfelt Facebook post titled “We’ve Got Your Back (Pack),” showcasing Leslie’s joy. “She arrived upset, but thanks to her heroes in blue, she left smiling, ready to embrace the school year,” the post read.
This story, shared by community member C. Michael McGinley on social media, underscores how small gestures can have big impacts. Officers Carro and McLachlan didn’t just give Leslie school supplies—they gave her confidence, hope, and a reminder that she’s supported.
In a world where headlines often highlight division, this tale of empathy shines bright. Sometimes, all it takes is a pink plaid backpack—and two big hearts—to turn a day of worry into a fresh start.
For most children, the first day of school is a whirlwind of excitement: crisp notebooks, sharpened pencils, and the promise of new beginnings. But for 7-year-old Leslie Gonzales, August 5 began with dread. In a world where a backpack symbolizes readiness—a vessel for dreams, homework, and peanut butter sandwiches—Leslie arrived at Loma Linda Elementary empty-handed. Her story, however, is not one of despair but of humanity’s quiet power to rewrite endings.
This is the tale of two Phoenix police officers, a pink plaid backpack, and a community reminded that kindness is not a grand gesture but a series of small, intentional choices. It’s a story about what happens when we pause to see one another—and act.
Chapter 1: The First Bell – A Community in Motion
The sun had barely risen over Phoenix when Officer Ben Carro arrived at Loma Linda Elementary. The school, nestled in a neighborhood where over 80% of students qualify for free or reduced-price lunch, buzzed with first-day chaos. Parents in worn work boots hugged their children goodbye; teachers waved signs reading “Welcome Back!” in English and Spanish.
Carro, a 12-year veteran of the Phoenix Police Department, was assigned to traffic duty. “First days are always hectic,” he later recalled. “But you see the kids’ faces—nervous, excited. It’s a privilege to help them start safely.”
Meanwhile, Leslie Gonzales walked alone. Her mother, Maria, a single parent working two shifts as a home health aide, couldn’t accompany her. Leslie’s older brother, Carlos, usually walked her to school, but he’d stayed home with a fever. At 7:45 a.m., the bell rang. Leslie froze.
Chapter 2: The Tears That Sparked Action
Jill Lebario, a school aide known for her neon-colored lanyards and bottomless patience, spotted Leslie first. The girl’s shoulders shook as she clutched a crumpled permission slip. “¿Qué pasa, mija?” Lebario asked softly.
Between sobs, Leslie confessed: no backpack. Her mother had promised to save up, but rent came first. “The other kids… they’ll laugh,” Leslie whispered. Lebario hugged her, whispering, “Eres fuerte, mi niña” (“You’re strong, my girl”). But reassurance wasn’t enough.
Officer Carro, watching from his patrol car, felt a familiar tug. “I grew up in a family that scraped by,” he shared later. “I knew that look—the shame of not having what others do.”
Chapter 3: The Target Run – More Than a Backpack
Carro radioed Community Action Officer Jon McLachlan, his partner in neighborhood outreach. “Meet me at Target. We’ve got a mission.”
At the store, the officers debated colors (“Pink’s her favorite,” Lebario had mentioned) and essentials. McLachlan tossed in a stainless steel water bottle. “She walks to school in 100-degree heat. Hydration’s key.”
As they checked out, the cashier, a grandmotherly woman named Doris, slid a $20 bill across the counter. “For the little girl,” she said. The officers added a plush keychain—a unicorn, because “every kid needs magic,” Carro joked.
Chapter 4: The Unboxing – A Moment of Hope
By 10 a.m., Leslie sat in Ms. Rivera’s second-grade class, tracing letters on a borrowed worksheet. A knock interrupted the lesson.
There stood Carro and McLachlan, holding a pink plaid backpack. Leslie’s eyes widened as she unzipped it: markers, crayons, a lunchbox with her name scribbled in Sharpie. “For me?” she asked.
“Every superhero needs gear,” McLachlan said, kneeling to her height. The class erupted in applause. Leslie’s smile, captured in the now-viral Facebook photo, said it all: I matter.
Chapter 5: Ripples of Kindness – The Community Responds
The Phoenix PD’s Facebook post struck a chord. Comments poured in:
- “This is what policing should be!”
- “How can I donate supplies?”
- “I was Leslie once. Thank you.”
C. Michael McGinley, the local resident who shared the post, wrote: “These officers didn’t just change Leslie’s day—they changed how our community sees law enforcement.”
By week’s end, Loma Linda Elementary received 300 donated backpacks. A GoFundMe for Leslie’s family raised $5,000. Maria Gonzales, through tears, told reporters: “Dios me dio ángeles en uniforme” (“God gave me angels in uniform”).
Chapter 6: The Bigger Picture – Poverty, Pride, and Possibility
Leslie’s story isn’t unique. In Arizona, 1 in 5 children lives below the poverty line. Teachers like Loma Linda’s Amanda Rivera spend $500 yearly on classroom supplies. “Kids like Leslie aren’t ‘underprivileged’—they’re underestimated,” Rivera said.
Dr. Laura Hernández, a child psychologist, explains: “A backpack is a shield against stigma. It says, ‘I belong.’ Without it, anxiety festers.”
Officers Carro and McLachlan understood this instinctively. Their act wasn’t charity—it was equity.
Chapter 7: Beyond the Badge – The Human Side of Policing
The Phoenix PD’s Community Action Program, launched in 2019, trains officers to address root causes of crime: poverty, hunger, hopelessness. “We’re not just enforcers,” McLachlan said. “We’re neighbors.”
Critics argue police shouldn’t “play social workers,” but Chief Jeri Williams disagrees: “Trust is built in these moments. You can’t handcuff your way to unity.”
Epilogue: Leslie’s Lesson to Us All
Today, Leslie’s backpack hangs in her bedroom, a trophy of resilience. She wants to be a teacher—or maybe a police officer. “They’re like superheroes,” she told her mom.
But the real superheroes, Maria insists, are people who choose kindness when it’s easier not to. As Carro said: “We didn’t save the world. We just showed up.”
In the end, isn’t that enough?
Photo courtesy of the Phoenix Police Department’s Facebook page.
