September 19, 2032
Keone looked up from the book he was reading on his pad when he heard his phone buzz. He started when he saw the Caller ID on its screen: Lāhainā Police Station. Oh, no—not again, he thought with concern and dismay. It was not the first time in the recent past he’d received a call from the police. “Accept call,” he told Sirai. “Aloha, this is Keone Ailana.”
“Aloha, Mr. Ailana. This is Sergeant Likeke with the Maui Police. Could you please come down to the station as soon as possible? We have your son in custody.”
“I’ll come right away, Sergeant. Is Kapono all right?”
“Yes, aside from a few scrapes and bruises, he’s fine. He’s here because he assaulted some other boys. We can talk about it when you get here.”
Keone was relieved that his 14-year-old son was okay, but less than pleased that he’d been arrested again for attacking others. As Keone grabbed his car keys and headed out the French doors of his small, nearly-new home in Lāhainā, he mused, Perhaps it’s time… I think he’s old enough. I’ve tried everything else I can think of.
* * *
Keone headed north on the Honoapiilani Highway toward the police station. Normally, the roadsides of the busy highway were a flurry of construction activity as the rebuilding of Lāhainā from the devastation of the Maui Fire of 2023 continued. But on this bright Sunday afternoon, the saws, hammers, and 3D printers rested. He parked his Civic hatchback in the station’s visitor lot and walked toward the main entrance, thinking about what he would say to his only son who’d been affected so deeply by the loss of his mother nine years earlier.
“Aloha,” Keone said to the officer at the reception desk just inside the station’s door. “I’m Keone Ailana; I’m here to see Sergeant Likeke.”
“Aloha, Mr. Ailana. Please have a seat; I’ll let the Sergeant know you’re here,” the officer replied as he nodded toward the chairs just inside the door.
“Thanks, Officer.” Keone sat down in one of the wooden chairs. There was no one else waiting; it was a quiet Sunday at the station.
A uniformed officer rounded a corner and approached Keone. “Mr. Ailana?” Keone stood up. “I’m Sergeant Likeke.” The officer extended her hand, which Keone shook. “Aloha. Thank you for getting here so quickly. Let’s go to my office and talk.” Keone followed the officer down the hallway to her tiny office. Likeke shut the door behind Keone, motioned toward a chair in front of a desk, and sat down behind the desk. “I know the last time your son was here, you talked with Sergeant Kubo, but he’s off duty today.” She folded her hands on top of the desk. “I’ve reviewed Kapono’s file. I’m so sorry about your wife, Mr. Ailana. That must have been very difficult for you, and for your son.”
“Thank you. It was difficult, especially for Kapono; he wasn’t quite five years old.” And not only that, Keone thought, Kapono blames himself for his mother’s death.
On that horrific day—August 8, 2023—Kapono had begged his father to leave work early and take him to Kaanapali Beach. His mother, Kealoha, had to work that afternoon at her job on historic Front Street and told her husband and son to enjoy the beach. And they did… until mid-afternoon, when they could see smoke rising from Lāhainā. They rushed back toward the center of town and the shop where Kealoha worked, only to be blocked by police barricades. They watched in horror as the wind-whipped flames quickly engulfed Lāhainā, including the busy Front Street district and thousands of homes, including theirs. Keone knew that if he and his son hadn’t gone to the beach that day, they probably would have perished along with his wife and over 100 others. But in Kapono’s mind, he was responsible for his mother’s death. And he’s never forgiven himself, or the Earth, Keone thought sorrowfully.
“I greatly sympathize with what your son’s been through,” Likeke said softly. “But these assaults…”
“What happened. Sergeant?”
“A small group of boys, ages 12 to 15, were bullying another boy—a friend of Kapono’s. Apparently it wasn’t the first time.”
“Akram?” Keone asked. Akram was Kapono’s best friend. His parents, natives of Nigeria, had taken Keone and Kapono into their home after the Maui fire and let them live there at no cost for almost a year, until they’d found other housing while their home was rebuilt. The Ailanas had never met Akram and his parents before the fire. Kapono told his father about the last time Akram had been bullied about his race and religion, and that he’d planned to “do something about it” if it happened again. Looks like he did something about it.
“Yes,” Likeke replied. “Kapono went after those boys like an exploding volcano. He got beat up a bit, but the other boys got the worse of it.” The faintest of smiles appeared on her face. “I don’t think those boys will be bothering Akram again any time soon.” Her smile vanished. “But, this is Kapono’s third assault in the past year. Something needs to be done, Mr. Ailana.”
“Yes, it does. What is Kapono charged with?”
“I spoke with the parents of the instigators. After I explained what happened, they agreed to not press charges. And they promised to discipline their sons. Besides, Kapono is a minor. The DA isn’t going to press charges, either. I’ll release him into your custody, Mr. Ailana. But first, let’s discuss how to best to help him.”
“Yes, of course. I’m grateful to the parents of the other boys and the DA for their understanding.”
Likeke glanced down at the pad on her desk. “Kapono had several court-ordered counseling sessions following the other incidents.” She looked up at Keone. “Do you think those helped him?”
Keone thought for a few seconds. “I believe so. But, he’s still dealing with his anger by lashing out at others.” He paused for a moment. “I have an idea about how to help him. Are you familiar with ho’oponopono?”
Likeke nodded, “Yes, I received an introduction to it at the Police Academy, and more recently I learned more about it from a friend who’s a master. From what I understand, I think it could be very helpful to your son.”
“I agree. I’ve been thinking about teaching Kapono about it, but I wanted to wait until he was older, more mature. I think he’s ready now.”
“Are you a master, Mr. Ailana?”
“No. I’ll introduce Kapono to ho’oponopono, and I know a master who can work with him.”
“That’s great. Please let me know how that goes.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you, Sergeant Likeke.”
Likeke stood up. “Now, let’s get your son back home.”
Keone followed Likeke down the hall to an interview room, and she opened the door. Kapono was sitting at a table with a bandage on one side of his forehead and a blackened eye. His Hawaiian shirt was torn and dirty, and his legs were scraped. The gangly youth jumped up when his father entered the room.
“Dad, I’m really sorry, I messed up. But those assholes were beating up on Akram again, and—”
Keone raised his right hand half-way. “Sergeant Likeke told me about it. I’m glad you’re okay. Let’s go home, and we’ll talk about it.” He stepped over to his son and hugged him. Tears ran down Kapono’s cheeks as he hugged his father.
“Okay, Dad.”
Keone released the embrace with Kapono and shook Likeke’s hand. “Thank you, Sergeant. For looking after Kapono… and everything.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Please sign Kapono out at the front desk, and then you two take care. Aloha.”
After Keone had completed Kapono’s release form, he walked with his son out of the main entrance and toward the car. “Kapono, what do you know about ho’oponopono?”
Kapono looked at his father, “I’ve heard you talk about it, and I learned a little about it in 8th grade. Why?”
“When we get home, I’d like to tell you more about it. I think it will be helpful to you.”
“Sure, Dad.”
As Keone walked to the car, he repeated these words over and over in his thoughts: I’m sorry… please forgive me… thank you… I love you.
(Image courtesy of Freepik)
