Police Reports & FBI Agents: A Tuesday in Buenos Aires

At 5:40 PM an American male left his apartment in Buenos Aires to go for his daily 30 minute run. Thirty minutes came and went and he did not return. This is the information I was given as a crying woman begged me to help her.

For the sake of privacy, I will call this woman Lisa and the man John. I had met Lisa only once before. She needed someone in Buenos Aires to help her with phone call calls and research in Spanish. I was her virtual assistant, nothing more, but the day her husband disappeared, she realized I was also the only person she knew in Buenos Aires.

Thinking logically in an emergency

Lisa called me after an hour had passed since her husband left the house. At first, I tried to calm her and convince her that he probably just decided to run a little longer or perhaps got a little turned around in the streets. She insisted that because his iPhone was not activated to work in Argentina, he always, always gave her an exact return time and that he was never late. I knew the US Embassy would follow the US laws that require a person to be missing for 24 hours before they begin to search, but I told her to call anyway while I contacted the Argentine Police and all the hospitals in the area.

Indifference at best

First I called the two nearest police stations. I had never even met John, so my description was only what I could get out of a hysterical wife. The first police station put me on hold for 20 minutes before I gave up and called the second. They were almost as unconcerned as the first station, but did tell me if I wanted to come by and file a police report, they would start looking for him.

Next, I called the two closest hospitals. I was bounced between departments, each one telling me that they were not the person to ask. Eventually, I convinced people to search for the name and check if they had anyone that came in that matched John’s description. I heard typing when I gave them the name, but judging from the 2 second pause after the description was given, I doubt much searching was done in that respect.

I tried to understand. These people probably thought I was overreacting. I myself could not muster true fear at this point. It had only been 2 hours. Surely, there were simpler explanations for why John had not returned.

Helping a stranger in a crisis

Lisa was even more distraught by everyone’s indifference. She begged me to come to her house, stay with her, explain what was happening. I was 30 minutes from the end of my shift at work, so looking forward to going home, eating dinner and de-stressing. But Lisa was crying and her husband was missing. I shut down my computer and ran outside to get a cab.

When I got to her house, she was tearing through everything, trying to find any clue as to what might had happened. At this point, she had fallen into a paranoid belief that maybe he had left her. She shoved all his credit cards and passport into my face, asking why he would leave them behind. She forced me to read loving emails he had sent her only hours earlier, and the plans they had made to go on a trip to celebrate their one year anniversary just 2 days later. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince me or herself.

I assured her that he had not left her. Not for the love I knew nothing about, but because the logistics truly didn’t make sense. Lisa went back and forth, one minute she was 100% positive that their love was one of a kind and that she meant the world to him, the next she could see absolutely no other explanation other than he had left her. You have no idea how hard it is to comfort a woman you do not know about the disappearance of a man whose name you learned only hours before.

Suddenly becoming a legal interpreter

Eventually, I got Lisa in a cab to the police station. Once we arrived, I explained the urgency of the situation to a policeman who told me to sit down and wait my turn. As people around me waited to get their IDs renewed, Lisa frantically called her family back in the US. During our near 40 minute wait, she tried to convince me several times that we should just go to the embassy and bang on the door until they let us in. I convinced her to stay.

By the time the policeman was ready to deal with us, Lisa’s well-to-do family back in the US had already activated John’s cell phone so that they could try to track the GPS and contacted their family lawyer and a few private investigators. These people were not messing around.

Getting the story straight was difficult, as Lisa kept becoming overwhelmed with emotion, caught up on a phone call with someone in the US, or, worse, convinced her money could force the policeman to find her husband faster. After I spoke to a couple other stations on the phone and a legal report was written up, Lisa and I were asked to sign it. When I explained I was not related to them in any way, the policemen explained that I had to give them all my information and sign as their legal interpreter. Legal interpreting involves tests and licenses that I do not have, but I signed because I had no idea what else to do.

Calling parents and speaking to ex-FBI Agents

After filing the police report, Lisa asked me not to leave her alone, so I went back to her apartment with her. Once there, I had to call her parents and John’s parents because Lisa was too distraught to talk. At this point, more than 4 hours had passed. Even I knew something was very wrong. Her well-connected parents were not willing to take chances; within an hour they had ex-FBI agents calling us, arranging for 3 of them to fly to Buenos Aires right away to begin an investigation. Once again, I was given the phone. As I gave them my name and information for their records, they explained that I had to stay with Lisa, that she was not to leave the apartment and that the phone must not be answered because all calls needed to be tracked and recorded. I realized they were treating this investigation like a kidnapping. As a girl I barely knew wept openly while I accepted instructions from ex-FBI agents, I thought this is the craziest night of my life.

7 hours and counting

The papers were signed and private investigators were on their way to Buenos Aires. Lisa was on the phone with her dad who was at the airport in New York, trying to get on the next flight down. I sat sleepily at the table, knowing I could not leave this girl’s side until someone arrived to take my place.

And then the doorbell rang

There we were at 1am in a dark apartment, and someone was ringing the bell. We both jumped up, staring at each other, confused and scared. She picked up the phone to see who it was – It’s him. Rease it’s him.. She didn’t sound like she believed herself. She scrambled around, saying she needed a knife in case they had come back for her, but in the end, she buzzed John in.

When John finally made it to the top floor, he was shivering in his running shorts and shirt, barefoot. He had been robbed and then driven outside the city. He walked on the freeway all the way back to the city and no one would let him use their phone to call Lisa, so he walked all the way back to the apartment in the cold, barefoot.

This happened just a few weeks ago, and I still cannot even believe I was a part of it. The good news is, John was completely unharmed and made it home safely. This was easily one of the most unbelievable nights of my life, but I am glad I was able to help.