CHAPTER 22

I approached Ma'am Yolly, a social worker the same age as Tita Cecile, both in their fifties. Ma'am Yolly greeted us with a broad smile. She was a petite woman with bob-cut hair.

The security guards allowed us all to enter, already aware of the morning's incident. As we walked through the lobby to the elevator, people stared, likely because of the police officer with us.

"Ma'am Yolly, why is there a police officer with us?" I whispered.

She replied loudly, turning me red from embarrassment and tension, "We need to report the husband and get him arrested; what he did was serious. We always call the police, even for minor assaults, because it could happen again."

Tita Cecile and I exchanged worried glances as we walked down the hallway toward Maya's unit, followed by two male police officers and two social workers. I began to feel anxious, wondering if I should regret this decision. Tita Cecile tried to ease the tension by conversing with the officers and social workers. I took a deep breath, knowing my intention was only to intervene, not to get an arrest warrant.

A stocky, dark-skinned police officer knocked on Maya's door. I was supposed to tell him I would intervene first, but my Android phone rang. Rachel, my only clinic staff, was calling me.

"Tita, my staff is calling. Can you assist them for now?" I asked.

She nodded, and I stepped away to answer the call. I headed to Tita Cecile's unit. I passed some of the neighbors, peeking through their doors, curious about the commotion. I informed Rachel I'd be working only a half day and gave appointment instructions. I drifted to the slightly ajar door and heard various noises outside.

When the call ended, I saw Tita Cecile at the door, peering into the hallway.

"Tita, what happened?" I asked.

"They're taking him downstairs. Marco, Maya's husband, went willingly with the police."

"Marco?"

"Yes, Marco De Leon. Their son is named after him, Junior."

I furrowed my brows, remembering the name. Marco De Leon once requested assistance from my radio program a week ago. We gave him an appointment, but he has yet to come. Could it be the same person, or just a coincidence?

I became curious. If it was the same man, I couldn't believe the man I once saw walking down this hallway was Marco De Leon. Our paths had crossed unexpectedly, and now I wanted to learn more about him, his illness, and what he did to his family.

"Tita, let's follow them. Let's accompany Maya to the police station," I suggested.

Tita Cecile looked puzzled but eventually agreed. We bolted toward the elevator, and when we reached the ground floor, we caught them as they left. We hurried to my car and followed the two police patrol cars to the station.

"It's heartbreaking for their family. Why did they have to call the police?" Tita Cecile asked.

I sighed as I drove. "Marco kneeled before them, begging and crying, saying he didn't mean what he did last night," she added.

"Violence against women and children is serious, Tita. It's a violation of human rights and considered a crime," I explained, feeling a pang of regret. "Anyone can file a case against Maya's husband, even if Maya doesn't want to. She has no choice because that's the law."

"I feel sorry for Marco. He seemed sincere when he was begging. Maya and her child hugged him, but we couldn't do anything. Even Yolly felt sorry for him," Tita Cecile said.

"How did they get Marco to agree?" I asked her, in my mind, what could make him hurt his family? Alcoholism? Drugs? He looked decent, but you never really know.

"He kept saying he loved them," Tita Cecile replied. "I couldn't understand him because I was comforting his hysterical wife and child."

"Honestly, I was angry with her husband last night," I thought. What I did was right, so why should I regret it? Maya did the right thing by seeking help. Whatever her husband did was wrong, and he deserved to be in jail. "I hope Maya understands why I did this. She doesn't have to worry first because we only plan to file a case against Marco."

Traffic slowed us down, but I was confident they would transport the family to the police station. It took about fifteen minutes to get there. We arrived just as a police officer was taking Maya's statement. She was crying non-stop, embracing her child. Ma'am Yolly and her colleagues were beside them. I was surprised when I found out that they had already detained Marco.

Maya glanced at me as Tita, Cecile, and I entered the door. "You! This is your fault," she accused.

I walked near her and bravely faced her. "Maya, I'm sorry. I was doing the right thing."

I touched her shoulder, but she brushed my hand away.

"Doc, Ara is right," Ma'am Yolly interjected. She glances back at me. "This is for the safety of you and your child. We can't be sure about your husband."

"Are you satisfied now? Are you pleased with what you've done to my family?" she retorted.

Tita Cecile didn't like her tone and spoke up. "Hey! You should be grateful we let you stay in our home, or you and your child would still be punching bags."

"That's enough, Tita," I intervened, trying to calm her down.

"She thinks we're meddling," Tita Cecile continued, hands on her hips. "She shouldn't have asked for help if that's what she thinks."

I turned to Ma'am Yolly. "Ma'am, can I talk to you? Tita Cecile, please join us outside."

We stepped outside near my parked car to prevent things from worsening. Ma'am Yolly left Maya with her colleagues. A police officer was still taking statements from her. While driving earlier, a different plan surfaced in my mind. All I needed was Ma'am Yolly's assistance to stop Marco from incurring charges.