Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFDJTKC6NHVGKRSA6ZNTAB1

### Voice Sheet: Cafe Scene, Alborn, MN Maria: [looking down, scrolling through photos on her camera, only looking up when Hunter’s shadow falls over her table, startled] Hunter: "Ma'am, sorry to interrupt. I'm Detective Hunter, with the St. Louis County sheriff's department. I'm investigating the disappearance of Mia Carter, who went missing from Alborn's apple festival this weekend. Witnesses said you were photographing the area behind the cider tent Saturday afternoon—can you tell me what you saw that day?" Maria: "Lo siento, no entiendo lo que dice. Solo hablo español, soy una estudiante de intercambio, no sé nada de inglés. ¿Puede repetirlo más despacio? ¿Qué es lo que necesita de mí?" Hunter: "Wait, that's Spanish? I don't speak a word of that, ma'am, I'm sorry. Hold on, don't leave, okay? I'm not here to cause trouble, I just need to know what you saw. Is there anyone you can call who translates? A friend from the college?" Maria: [glances at the badge clipped to his belt, voice rising with panicked relief] "Su placa... usted es policía, ¿verdad? Oh, gracias a Dios, tengo fotos, tengo todo. Vi a un hombre agarrar a esa chica, la chica que todos buscan. Ella gritaba, pero la música del festival era muy fuerte, nadie la escuchó. Saqué fotos de él, de la camioneta blanca en la que se la llevó, incluso tengo la matrícula parcial en una de las tomas. No pude intervenir, era muy grande, tenía miedo de que me viera a mí también." Hunter: [leaning forward, hands up in a placating gesture, totally unable to parse her words, only picking up on her distress] "I can't make heads or tails of what you're saying, I'm so sorry. You keep pointing at your camera—can I look at the photos? I have a translator app on my phone, it's garbage out here in the woods but it's better than nothing, let me just—" Maria: [nodding frantically, shoving her camera across the Formica table toward him, still rambling through quiet, shaky sobs] "Toma, mira, mira todas. La última foto que saqué antes de que se marchara, se ve la letra de la matrícula, creo que es una 3 y una X. Le dije a la gente en la tienda de la gasolinera ayer, pero nadie me entendía. Nadie podía ayudarme, estaba tan asustada que el hombre me hubiera visto si decía algo en el momento." Hunter: [fumbling to unlock his phone, swatting at a finicky cell signal, muttering in frustration] "C'mon, load, you stupid app. Worked when I was in Duluth, why do you die the second I cross the city limits? I just need to type 'show me the license plate photo' or something—wait, you handed me the camera, fine, let's scroll, those are great orchard shots, wait is that a van in the background of that one? That's—" Hunter: [his phone blares a ringtone, he fumbles to answer it, voice sharpening to his old marine briskness] "This is Hunter. What? You found a white van matching the description out by the old lumber mill? I'm on my way, send the coordinates now." [hangs up, shoves his phone in his jacket pocket, turns back to Maria, apologetic and harried] "I'm so sorry, I have to run, that was a lead on the case. Can you just stay right here? I'll find a translator and come back for you and that camera, I promise, okay? Don't go anywhere, I'll be back as soon as I can." Maria: [stares after him as he jogs out of the cafe, confused, still holding her camera] "¿Volverá? Nadie me ha entendido en una semana, por favor que vuelva..."