"Shh, it's okay, Charlie. Daddy's here. You're safe. I won't let anyone get you. Go back to sleep."
"I keep dreaming of Mama. What if they hurt me like they hurt her?"
"They won't, Charlie. We'll get them. Shh. I've got you."
Finally, the little boy stops crying, soothed by his daddy's hugs and reassurances, and falling exhaustedly back to sleep.
President Bartlett tucks his son in, checks on each of his daughters, then calls for his Chief of Staff, enraged.
"They tried to hurt him, Leo! They tried to kill my son- all because he doesn't look like me!"
"I know, Mr. President. But we'll get them, Sir."
"He keeps having nightmares, thinks they're gonna kill him like they did his Mother!"
Leo looks disturbed, but meets the President's eyes with steel in his own.
"We won't let them, Sir. Ever."
President Bartlett looks for the reassurance from his friend, hands on his hips, before he sighs tiredly.
"How do we stop hatred, Leo? We can't... legislate it; we can't reform it... How do we stop it?"
Leo thinks for a moment. Then:
"You treat all your kids like they're all your kids, Sir. You teach them they're each special and it's okay to have differences. You show them you can disagree with someone's beliefs and ideas and still treat them with respect. You teach them that hatred is usually just a mask for ignorance and fear and people can be cruel but they can be kind. Then they'll teach their children and their children's children after that. You can't stop hatred, Mr. President. You can only educate it, and pray we'll be better tomorrow."
The President nods in agreement, then looks up at his friend.
"Call me the second you have something."
He nods. "Thank you, Mr. President."