Outside the colonel's office window a soft breeze made the urban palm fronds and eucalyptus leaves sway. Traffic was moving tolerably now since it was after ten a.m. The cloudless mountains to the east gleamed in the sunlight.

He fidgeted with some of the objects on his desktop while waiting for the interviewer to return from the restroom. The colonel was anything but ungainly. Also tall, he wasn’t typical physically and mentally of most of the men in his Latin American country. He’d risen steadily in the ranks of the police over the years and was, at this moment, very near the top. He enjoyed the reputation of a totally clean and truly caring man.

Chief of Police of the nation was his goal and he’d literally given his life toward achieving it.

“Sorry, but we can continue now,” said the interviewer. He took his seat again.

“No problem,” the colonel said. He smiled.

“Colonel, there has been alarm expressed by some critics of the police force that the number of rapes taking place out near Westside Bridge has never been reported accurately by the press. We understand that most of these attacks occur at dusk or later.”

“It’s true ,” the colonel responded, “but we can write up only what citizens come in to report. How many attacks go unreported? We don’t know and can’t, really. We are constantly encouraging victims to overcome their fear and embarrassment and report all attacks.”

“Why, many ask, aren’t there more foot patrols assigned to the bridge area?” the interviewer asked.

At that moment the colonel’s assistant entered the office and said there was an urgent call from the colonel’s father.

“Interruptions,” the colonel said. “What can we do?”

“It's quite all right,” the interviewer said. He began to collect his briefcase. “Would day after tomorrow be okay for the wrap-up?”

“Wait for my call before you come over. So you won’t waste a trip,” the colonel said. He smiled. The interviewer left the office.

The colonel picked up the receiver.

“Dad?” he said.

“Jaime,” his dad said. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

 Jaime quickly sensed the old man was distraught and in tears.

“What has happened, Dad? Go ahead, tell me.”

“It’s Luis, Jaime. He’s been arrested,” the old man stammered.

Luis was the colonel’s youngest brother. He’d always had a rebellious streak. For a number of years now he’d been living abroad.

“Arrested? Where Dad? Why?”

“At Heathrow, Jaime. Drugs. Your mother’s devastated. No, we all are!”

The colonel froze. Finally, he found his voice.

“I’ll be over as soon as I can, Dad. Try to stay calm. I’ll see if I can find out more.”

The colonel rang off and paged his assistant.

“Cancel everything for the rest of the day,” he struggled to say. “We’ve got a family crisis. Also, get Edgar for me now.”

Edgar was the present Chief of Police but not Jaime’s immediate boss. White waiting to talk to him, the colonel stared at the wall on one side of his desk. ‘My brother,’ he was thinking. ‘Jesus, my own brother’.