Chapter 55 — Shrimp Street Without Name

News about the human trafficking ring related to Ocean's fishing fleets, when published in a controlled manner through official press channels, created a real earthquake in public opinion nationwide, far beyond the scope of a small coastal province. Many major newspapers began to get involved, sending reporters to Nam Can to find out, making this small area suddenly become the focus of national attention.

Minh Khang, as the first person to closely follow all developments, became one of the most sought-after news sources, but he still maintained the principle of protecting sources and necessary caution, not letting any media pressure affect the accuracy of information.

Amid that wave of attention, something unexpected happened: the family of one of the victims identified through recovered data, a young man named Hung who went missing five years ago, proactively contacted the investigation agency after seeing the news in the newspaper. Their family, living in another western province, searched for their son for five years without any clues.

“We thought he ran away from home because he was angry with his parents about something,” the mother, Mrs. Tu Loan, told Hai Yen on the phone with tears in her eyes. "Unexpectedly, during the past five years, he may have been sent to work as a slave somewhere far away, without his family knowing."

That call made Hai Yen unable to contain her emotions. She promised to do everything she could to help Ms. Tu Loan's family find more information, even though she clearly understood that the possibility of finding Hung alive after all these years was extremely slim.

The lieutenant, upon hearing about Hung's case, announced that this was exactly the type of information they needed to connect the technical data obtained from the server with actual disappearances that had been reported in the past but had never been solved. “We will compare the entire list of missing people reported in the past ten years in the coastal provinces with the data we have,” he said. “This could be the key to accurately determining the true scale of this network.”

In the following days, more and more other families proactively contacted each other, each story had its own pain, but all had the same denominator: a young relative, usually male, left home to work far away with the promise of a high-paying job at sea, then disappeared without an explanation. Hai Yen spent many hours every day listening to those stories over the phone, carefully recording every detail, even though each call left a new wound in her heart.

“I didn't expect that the release of information would lead to so many heartbreaking stories,” she shared with Kien one evening, her voice exhausted after a long day of listening to one family after another. “I thought I was mentally prepared for the scale of the incident, but hearing each specific story like that, it felt completely different.”

“I understand,” Kien said, taking her hand, his eyes full of understanding. “The number one hundred and twenty on paper is one thing, but when it becomes one hundred and twenty concrete stories, with names, faces, families waiting, it weighs much more.”

Lawyer Hoang, realizing that the workload and emotions are weighing heavily on Hai Yen, proposed to establish a small psychological support group, including a few experienced volunteers, to receive and process information from related families, reducing the burden of having to face all those heartbreaking stories alone for Hai Yen.

“You can't handle everything by yourself,” lawyer Hoang said, her voice stern but full of concern. "If you are exhausted, who will continue to lead this journey? You need to learn to share the burden, not just for yourself, but for everyone who is counting on you."

Hai Yen nodded, realizing the correctness of that advice, even though her instinct always wanted to shoulder all responsibilities herself. She agreed to let the psychological support team take over part of the job of receiving information, while she focused on coordinating with the investigation agency to handle the most important clues.

That night, before going to sleep, she wrote another line in her thick notebook: "Justice is not just anyone's burden. It is the common responsibility of everyone who still believes in righteousness." That line, simple but containing an important lesson she is gradually learning throughout this arduous journey.

A week later, the psychological support group founded by lawyer Hoang began operating, including three volunteers: a retired former teacher with experience in community counseling, a social work student practicing, and most surprisingly, Ms. Tuyet herself also asked to join, citing the fact that she understood the feeling of having to carry a painful secret alone for many years, and wanted to use that experience to help other families.

"I'm not a psychologist," Ms. Tuyet said when she approached Hai Yen to join, her voice sincere. "But I know the feeling of waiting, of not knowing the truth, is more painful than knowing the terrible truth. I want to be with those families, at least to let them know they are not alone in that waiting."

Hai Yen immediately agreed, touched by the heart of Ms. Tuyet, who has come a long way from a scared, silent witness, to someone willing to use her own pain to ease the pain of others.

The support team quickly became effective, receiving and handling calls from the victim's family in a professional and sympathetic manner, while transferring the most important information to the investigation team and to Hai Yen, helping her to focus her energy on tasks that require her more direct role.

At the same time, the initial data comparison results from the investigation agency brought news that was both heartbreaking and hopeful: out of more than thirty families contacted, there were four cases that directly matched the identification data recovered from the server, showing a high possibility that these people are still alive, being held somewhere outside the territory of Vietnam.

“This is the best news we can hope for right now,” the lieutenant announced during a progress update meeting. "We are coordinating with Interpol and the authorities of relevant countries to verify and find ways to rescue them, if it is true they are still alive."

That news spread to the four families involved in extreme emotion, even though it was accompanied by endless anxiety about the possible rescue process. can be lengthy and risky. Hai Yen, when she heard the news, felt a new ray of hope flash through the heavy days, like a reminder that, although the road ahead is still long, every small step can bring a miracle to someone, somewhere.

Mrs. Tu Loan, Hung's mother, was one of four families who received that news. When Hai Yen personally called to tell the news, her voice trembled over the phone, mixed between crying and laughter, a complex emotion that only those who had waited in despair for many years could understand.

“My child is alive,” she repeated many times, as if to convince herself that this was not a dream. “Oh my god, my baby is alive.”

“We are still in the process of verifying and finding a way to bring her home,” Hai Yen said, trying to keep her voice cautious so as not to create too high expectations before everything is confirmed for sure. “But this is a very positive signal, sir.”

“Thank you, thank you so much,” Mrs. Tu Loan said, her voice choked. "For five years now, I have prayed for him every night, even though I was almost in despair. He gave me back the hope that I thought I had lost a long time ago."

That call, more than anything else, engraved in Hai Yen's heart the true meaning of everything she was doing. She hung up the phone, sat quietly for a long time, letting the tears of happiness roll down her cheeks, feeling a rare completeness amidst the countless difficulties of this journey, a moment that reminded her that, no matter how many tears and sweat it cost, it was all worth it for results like this, for the hope that had just been rekindled in the heart of a mother who had waited for five long years, never stopping to believe that her son was still somewhere in this world.