The Belize Police Headquarters was brightly lit, even in the evening, with a constant flow of people, police officers in various uniforms, administrative staff, and citizens coming to handle various matters.
Alvarez looked around nervously while his dad kept wiping the cold sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief. Only Marta stood tall, searching for the appropriate reporting window.
She spotted a relatively empty window and pulled her son and husband over.
A young officer behind the window was organizing files with his head down.
"Officer, we need to report a crime." Marta's voice was not loud but clear enough.
The young officer didn't lift his head, pointing to the queue next to them: "Ma'am, please take a number and wait in line to make a report."
Marta frowned, patience wearing thin, she leaned forward and lowered her voice, "Our matter is very important; someone is trafficking drugs!"
