Jimena nodded and opened the door. Inside was a small room, sparsely furnished with a single bed and a tattered rug. But it wasn’t the decor that caught Morales’s attention. It was the locks on the outside of the door, the scratch marks on the walls, and the makeshift barricade of furniture pushed against the only window.

“This is where he keeps us,” Jimena explained, her voice trembling now. “When Mom’s gone, he locks us in here.”

Morales’s heart ached for her. No child should ever know such fear, such captivity, within their own home. Determined to act, he took out his radio to call for backup, ensuring that help was on the way to free Jimena from this nightmare.