Little girl calls 911 and says, It was my daddy and his friend, the truth will break your heart
At 2:17 p.m. on a quiet Tuesday, 911 dispatcher Vanessa Gomez picked up a call that would haunt her for the rest of her career.
“911, what’s your emergency?” she said, her voice calm and steady — fifteen years on the job had taught her how to hold her tone even when her pulse spiked.
For three long seconds, there was silence. Then a tiny, trembling voice whispered, “It was my daddy and his friend. Please… please help me.”
Vanessa straightened in her chair. “Sweetheart, are you safe? Can you tell me your name?”
Lopez knocked once. Silence. Then a thud inside.
He kicked the door open. Manuel Rodriguez stood by the couch, a duffel bag half-zipped at his feet. He froze as the officers swarmed in.
“Where’s your friend Raimundo?” Morales asked.
Manuel’s mouth trembled. “He—he’s gone. I don’t know—”
A sound from the back — a door slamming. Lopez sprinted through the kitchen, just in time to see a man in a hoodie vault the fence and disappear into the rain.
“Suspect fleeing west on Jefferson, blue pickup!” he shouted into his radio.
