Just past midnight, a woman named Marisol entered the station, a toddler on her hip and three exhausted kids behind her. “We have nowhere else to go,” she whispered, fear heavy in her eyes.
Marisol’s husband, Carlos, had returned after years away, promising to change—but he quickly revealed his old violent self. One night, he broke furniture and shoved their son Mateo against the wall. Fearing for her children, Marisol fled before he came home.
She had no family nearby and no friends she trusted—Carlos was the only one who knew where they lived.
At the station, we provided blankets, comfort, and safety. When Carlos showed up looking for them, his smooth apologies couldn’t hide his violent history across three states.
Social services stepped in, and Marisol and her kids were relocated to a safe shelter.
Before they left, Mateo shyly showed me a drawing of a superhero who “saves people from bad guys.” His bravery reminded me that sometimes, believing and helping someone is the greatest heroism of all.
