At approximately 4:00 a.m. on September 24, 2026, I was taking what was supposed to be my final walk through Waikiki before leaving Oahu.

I was preparing to fly back to Texas later that day. After three incredibly difficult years on Oahu, I wanted one quiet walk to say goodbye—to Waikiki, to the island, and to this chapter of my life.

The streets were quieter at that hour. There were fewer cars, just the breeze, the night sky, and me walking through a place I was preparing to leave behind.

As I turned near Kuhio Avenue and Royal Hawaiian Avenue, I noticed two men in the distance. One was crying and wearing only shorts. The other was an older, taller man wearing a button-down shirt and shorts.

Something was clearly wrong.

Before approaching, I put down my black wallet and cell phone. I didn't know what kind of situation I was walking into, and I didn't want my belongings in my hands if things suddenly became dangerous.

When I got closer, the younger man was crying and yelling that he had been beaten up. He appeared to be in his twenties and spoke with what sounded like a Russian accent.

His head was covered with bumps that appeared consistent with having been struck. His face was scratched, and there were bruises on both arms. I did not see similar injuries on his chest or upper torso.

My immediate concern was getting him away from the area.

I told him we needed to leave the vicinity so whoever had hurt him wouldn't find him again. At some point the other man disappeared, and I quickly ran back toward the place where I had left my belongings.

In the darkness and confusion, I grabbed my cell phone.

I did not realize that I had left my wallet behind.

At that moment, however, my attention was still on getting this young man somewhere safer.

He told me he wanted to go to his place of employment, Denny's, because someone he knew was working there. I suggested that he instead take an Uber home, call 911, calm down, and wait until his roommate finished work. I was concerned that arriving at his workplace in such a distressed condition could create even more chaos.

Ultimately, I got him to Denny's. Once there, he left with another server.

By then I was exhausted, hungry, and incredibly thirsty. I stayed at Denny's to get something to eat before heading to the airport.

My bill was approximately $23.

That was when I reached for my wallet—and realized it wasn't there.

Inside that wallet was virtually everything I needed to travel: my identification, personal credit cards, approximately $500 in cash that I had specifically set aside for the trip, and a company credit card.

Most importantly, my ID was gone.

I contacted the young man afterward and told him what had happened. Earlier, before leaving Denny's, he had discovered that the approximately $200 he thought he had lost was actually still in his pocket.

Eventually he let me know that he had made it home safely. I was genuinely relieved.

But when I explained that I had lost my wallet while trying to help him and was now stranded without my identification, his response devastated me. He told me he didn't want to be involved and couldn't help.

I had been scheduled to fly back to Texas around noon on September 24.

Instead, I am still here.

I am now trying to replace my identification and make new travel arrangements. What was supposed to be my final night on Oahu has unexpectedly become another crisis.

I am asking for help because I genuinely need it.

I need enough assistance to secure a safe hotel or Airbnb for the nights of September 24 and September 25, 2026, while I work on replacing my identification and resolving the travel situation.

I also need help purchasing a replacement one-way ticket from Honolulu, Hawaiʻi, to Austin, Texas.

The cash I had reserved for traveling is gone. My cards were in the wallet. My identification was in the wallet. And instead of boarding my flight home today, I am trying to figure out where I am going to safely sleep tonight.

I know there will be people who ask why I became involved in someone else's situation.

The answer is simple: I saw another human being crying, visibly injured, frightened, and asking for help.

I couldn't simply walk past him.

I don't regret helping someone who appeared to need help. But I never imagined that doing so would leave me without my wallet, identification, travel money, or a way to get home.

If you can contribute toward two nights of safe lodging, replacement identification expenses, transportation, meals, or a replacement flight to Texas, I would be extraordinarily grateful.

If you cannot donate, sharing this fundraiser would mean just as much.

My immediate goal is very simple:

Get somewhere safe tonight. Replace my identification. Rebook my flight. And finally get home to Texas.