Nothing could have prepared me for that chilling phone call. I had heard about the growing number of threats targeting Jewish Community Centers nationwide and, deep down, I feared it was only a matter of time before we became a target too.
I work at a synagogue and collaborate with the Anti-Defamation League, keeping a close eye on the alerts sent to local Jewish groups whenever a threat emerges. I am well aware of the safety protocols in place and the steps to take if a threat is ever made. Yet, nothing could have prepared me for that fateful call.
Earlier that day, I had attended a security briefing at the local JCC, where my 2-year-old son is enrolled in preschool. I was reassured by the safety measures, the thorough training the staff had undergone, and the involvement of Homeland Security. I left feeling confident that the center was equipped to handle crises. But nothing could have prepared me for that call.
“Are both kids with you?”
I had taken the day off to spend time with my eldest daughter, leaving my youngest at school. The guilt of having sent him there, knowing I didn’t have to, weighed heavily on me. If something had happened, I would have never forgiven myself.
“No, just Talya. Ryan’s at school.”
“There was a bomb threat called into the JCC this morning. Everything is fine for now, but I wanted to let you know.”
My heart sank, and a wave of numbness washed over me.
I hung up and glanced around the indoor playground where I was with friends. Telling my daughter I would return, I turned to my fellow mom and blurted, “I need to get Ryan. There was a bomb threat.”
The rain poured as I sped down the road, my heart racing. I drove like a mother whose child’s life was in danger because of the religion he was born into. I made that drive in 11 minutes.
Let that sink in—I was racing to rescue my child from a school that had been threatened simply for being a Jewish institution. Hatred and ignorance had reached a terrifying peak.
The email we received was deliberately vague, informing us of the threat, the evacuation of the building, and assuring us that the children were safe. But it told us not to come pick them up.
Not come get my child? I understood the reasoning behind the safety measures. By arriving, I might put myself in harm’s way. Someone could be watching, ready to execute a plan. But none of that mattered at that moment. I needed to get to my son, even if it meant risking my own safety. The frantic thoughts racing through my mind as I tried to talk to my husband between sobs were unbearable; no parent should ever have to experience that.
As I pulled onto the street, I contemplated driving straight through the gate if it were closed. Fortunately, it wasn’t. I sprinted into the school, where a woman directed me to the evacuation site. I dashed back to my car, waving my security badge, desperate to hold my child again.
I will never forget the look on Ryan’s teacher’s face as she searched for answers in my expression. “Is this real? Please tell me you know what’s going on.” But I had no answers, only the urgent need to see my son.
As I exited, I glanced back at the building filled with children, laughing and playing, blissfully unaware of the chaos. They had been told it was a field trip, and it was up to the parents how much to disclose.
When I finally had Ryan safely in my arms, the relief washed over me like a wave of life. Driving away, I felt an eerie gratitude that he was too young to remember this day. But I will never forget.
This incident is just part of a disturbing trend of threats against JCCs across the country, but nothing could have prepared me for that call.
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Summary
A mother recounts her harrowing experience of receiving a bomb threat call about her child’s preschool. Despite her awareness of security measures in place, the panic and urgency to rescue her son from a potential threat highlight the emotional turmoil that comes with such alarming news. This incident serves as a stark reminder of the hate that persists in society, particularly against Jewish institutions.