Carla felt nervous as she walked through the doors of the Center with her eight-year-old daughter, Valerie.
This little girl had already been through so much, and now she was here for a forensic interview — a process that would ask her to recount painful memories. Carla didn’t know what to expect, but she knew this was just the first step in a long journey forward. What made it more daunting was the language barrier. Carla and Valerie only spoke Spanish, and she worried that, once again, they wouldn’t be understood.
As they stepped inside, a woman approached with a warm smile.
“Hola, bienvenidas Carla y Valerie. ¿Cómo están hoy?”
Relief washed over Carla. It was such a simple greeting, but to her, it meant everything.
The woman led them upstairs, handing Carla a form — in Spanish. Meanwhile, Valerie was guided to the play area, where she and the woman sat down to paint. Carla smiled as she heard them chatting about Valerie’s favorite colors.
Soon, another woman approached — this time, a Family Advocate — who also greeted Carla in Spanish and invited her to sit in a private family room. As the door closed, the weight of everything hit her. Carla began to cry as all the emotions she’d been bottling up surged to the surface: fear for her daughter, the uncertainty of the process, and frustration from struggling to be understood.
Before coming to the Center, Carla had encountered so many situations where no one spoke Spanish. Every time, her concerns and her questions — her voice — were lost in translation.
But here, it was different.
The Family Advocate listened patiently, offering comfort. She explained each step of the process, answering all of Carla’s questions with a calm reassurance. She eased her worries further, letting her know that the Forensic Interviewer working with Valerie also spoke Spanish. Then, she asked what else the Center could do to help — what resources Carla and Valerie needed to feel safe and supported.
When Valerie finished her interview, Carla was led back to the play area, where the woman they had first met handed Valerie a teddy bear — in her favorite color. Before they left, the Family Advocate gave Carla a small bag filled with essentials she had mentioned needing: shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothpaste, and even a new dress for Valerie. Carla had to fight back tears.
For the first time in a long while, she felt seen, heard, and truly understood.
A week later, the Family Advocate called to check in, offering continued support. Carla could hardly believe it. What had once felt like an impossible journey — seeking justice and healing for her daughter — now felt within reach.
*Note: Carla and Valerie are pseudonyms used to protect the identity and privacy of the individuals in this story.
