A little girl called 911, crying: “My stepdad’s snake is too big, it hurts!” — The police rushed to the scene and discovered the terrifying truth when they arrived

The 911 operator later said she would never forget the sound of that tiny voice.
“My stepdad’s snake is too big… it hurts! Please hurry!” the little girl sobbled.
The operator, Rebecca Cole, felt her stomach twist. Kids sometimes used the wrong words when scared. Snake? Too big? Hurting her? She immediately tagged the call as possible child endangerment and dispatched officers with urgency.

When Officers Daniel Brooks and Maria Turner arrived at the small rental house in rural Tennessee, they expected a case of domestic violence — maybe a drunk stepfather, maybe a misunderstanding. But when they pushed through the front door, what they saw made them freeze.

Crouched in a corner of the living room was seven-year-old Lily Watkins, shaking, hugging her knees, tears streaking her face. And wrapped around her left leg, tightening every time she tried to move, was a massive Burmese python, at least twelve feet long.

Her stepfather, Scott Hanlon, stood a few feet away pacing, hands trembling. “I—I didn’t think it would grab her!” he shouted. “It’s usually calm! I told Lily not to go near the enclosure!”

But the enclosure — a cheap glass tank with a broken latch — was wide open.

Officer Turner immediately crouched down, trying to keep her voice calm. “Lily, sweetheart, don’t move. We’re here now.”
Officer Brooks radioed for animal control while watching the python’s muscles ripple as it pulled itself tighter around the child’s leg.

Lily whimpered. “It hurts… I told him the snake scares me…”

Officer Turner clenched her jaw. She noticed bruising already forming around the child’s ankle and calf. And the python’s head was rising, tongue flicking, watching them.

Scott raised his hands defensively. “This isn’t my fault! She opened the tank! She likes watching it!”

But Lily shook her head violently. “No I didn’t! I was just walking past!”

The officers exchanged a look — they had heard enough.

While waiting for animal control, they carefully used a broom handle to lift the snake’s head and slow its tightening reflex, keeping Lily calm until specialists arrived with hooks, restraints, and a team strong enough to uncoil the huge reptile safely.

What they would learn afterward — about Scott’s negligence, his past warnings, and how long Lily had been afraid — would only make the case darker.

Animal control arrived within minutes, led by veteran handler Dr. Kevin Marsh, who had dealt with pythons before — but rarely one wrapped around a crying child. He quickly assessed the situation and whispered to Officer Turner, “She’s lucky. If this snake were hungry or startled… this could’ve been fatal.”

The team went to work methodically. One handler distracted the python’s head with a padded shield while two others slowly pried the muscular coils away, inch by inch. Lily screamed once when the pressure shifted, and Officer Turner immediately held her hand, grounding her.

When the final coil loosened, Marsh lifted Lily into his arms. “You’re okay now, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
The python, agitated but under control, was secured in a reinforced container.

Meanwhile, Officer Brooks escorted Scott Hanlon outside. The man paced in circles, running both hands through his hair. “I swear, I fed the snake yesterday! It wasn’t supposed to be aggressive!”

Brooks remained stone-faced. “When did you last check the tank latch?”
Scott looked away. “I dunno… a week? Maybe two?”

“And you were keeping a twelve-foot python in a house with a seven-year-old?”

Scott didn’t answer.

Inside the ambulance, paramedics examined Lily. They confirmed deep bruising, mild tissue damage, and signs that the snake had constricted more forcefully than Scott had claimed. What concerned them even more were the older yellow-green bruises around her shin.

“Lily,” the paramedic asked gently, “has anything like this happened before?”

The girl hesitated… then nodded.

Officer Turner overheard. “She told you not to keep that snake, didn’t she?” she said to Scott as he was brought toward the patrol car.
Scott snapped, “She’s dramatic! You can’t blame me for a kid being scared!”

But his own neighbors had already begun gathering outside. One woman pointed at him angrily. “I told you that thing was dangerous! It escaped into our yard twice!”

Another yelled, “He leaves that girl alone with the snake all the time!”

That was enough for the officers.

Scott was handcuffed and placed in the back of the cruiser, arrested on charges of reckless endangerment, child neglect, and failure to secure a dangerous animal.

Lily, wrapped in a blanket, watched quietly from the ambulance. When Officer Turner sat beside her, Lily whispered, “Am I going to get in trouble?”

Turner shook her head gently. “No, honey. You did everything right. You saved yourself.”

But the investigation was only beginning — and what came next would shock even the hardened officers.

After the incident, Child Protective Services became involved immediately. Officer Turner stayed with Lily as investigators walked through the house, documenting unsafe enclosures, improper locks, and evidence that Scott had been warned before.

In the hallway closet they found three more snakes — two boa constrictors and another python — each kept in cracked containers, with heating lamps wired dangerously. Dr. Marsh shook his head. “This setup is a disaster waiting to happen. He never should’ve been allowed to keep these.”

Meanwhile, Lily sat in a quiet room at the station with a trained child interviewer. Her voice was soft, but the details forced every adult in the room to stay perfectly still.

“Sometimes the snake gets out at night,” she whispered. “Mom works nights, so I’m alone with Scott. He says not to bother him unless it’s an emergency. One time the big snake crawled on my bed… I called him but he said I was being annoying.”

Officer Turner’s fists clenched. The negligence wasn’t accidental — it was patterned.

When Lily’s mother, Melissa Watkins, rushed into the station after her shift, she looked devastated. “Oh my God, Lily!” She hugged her daughter tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I trusted him… I thought he was taking care of you.”

Melissa told officers she had repeatedly asked Scott to get rid of the largest python, but he always dismissed her. He claimed he “knew reptiles” and “the kid would get used to it.”

She never knew the extent of Lily’s fear.

As evidence mounted — photos of bite marks from months earlier, neighbors’ statements, videos Lily took showing the snake loose in the hallway — prosecutors prepared charges that would ensure Scott never had contact with the child again.

In the end, the python and the other snakes were relocated to a licensed wildlife facility. Melissa filed for an emergency protective order and moved herself and Lily into her sister’s home.

A month later, at a follow-up check, Lily showed Officer Turner the healing bruises on her leg. “It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said softly. “And I’m not scared to sleep at night.”

Turner smiled. “You’re brave, Lily. Don’t ever forget that.”

Before leaving, Lily handed her a small drawing — a police officer holding a crying girl’s hand.