My husband woke me up in the middle of the night. “Get up. Into the yard. Now.” We hid in the bushes in our pajamas, and when I saw who was entering the house, my hands began to tremble.

Colton and the two men eventually stepped back outside and walked toward the van, their silhouettes outlined by the faint porch light, and although I could not hear their words, I saw Colton’s posture change as his shoulders squared and his gestures grew sharper and more deliberate.

One of the men shrugged in irritation while the other glanced nervously toward the street, and my chest felt so tight that I could barely breathe as I braced myself for something terrible to unfold.

Without warning, Colton lifted his phone high in the air and activated the screen so that a bright blue glow flashed conspicuously in the darkness, and I saw the man with the crowbar curse as he took a step backward.

A distant siren began to wail softly, at first barely noticeable and then unmistakably growing louder with each passing second.

The two men exchanged a quick look of alarm before rushing back into the van, slamming the doors shut and speeding down the street just as two police cruisers rounded the corner with their lights blazing across the houses.