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The family huddled in the back of the black SUV as it inched forward through the protest line. Steve’s heart raced as he cradled his daughter’s fragile body. Callie was drowsy from the morphine they’d given her at the hospital, her purple sun hat pulled over her eyes. Pink arteries of cord ran from the tiny unit in her hand to her ears. Steve hoped the ear buds were filtering out the clamor. He looked out the tinted side window. There must be forty people out there. Forty people who didn’t know their situation. Their signs bore hateful slogans. IT’S