He entered the police station tentatively. The man is approximately 25 years old but dressed like a woman in her late fifties. He wore a yellow cotton Mexican mini dress with detailed multicolored flower embroidery. There was embroidery detail around the sleeves, and hemline with a frontal floral design. On his feet, he wore yellow sandals with thick straps.

Tears rolling down his face, he cried out, "Ayudame!"

The distraught man was quickly hustled into an empty interrogation room. Two officers entered the room.

"I'm Officer Dixon and this is Officer Phelps. How can we help you?" Officer Phelps pushed a box of tissues over to the sobbing man..

"Me llamo..." the man began before pausing to start again. "Me name es...Me name es Rose Lopez..Yo no se me name, pero I can't help meself. Dats all I can say."

"Can you understand me?"

The man nodded.

"Do you want a Spanish officer or an interpreter?"

"No, ai wanna talk Ingles.".

"OK, calm down and just tell us what happened?"

Officer Dixon asked the questions and Officer Phelps took notes.

Tears streamed down the man's face as he recounted his ordeal to the police officers. His voice trembled, and his thick Mexican accent colored his words, making his emotional state even more evident.

"Por favor, offiseer," he began, clutching a tissue tightly in his hands. "Ai was walking home when dees man, hee comes up to me. Hee had a gun, point eet at me, and says, 'Get een dee car!' Ai was so scared, Ai deedn't know what to do."

He paused, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "Hee grab me and force me into hees car. Ai was crying, begging heem, 'Por favor, let me go!' But hee say nothing, just drive. Ai theenk about my family, ai theenk ai might die. But I wasn't speeking like dis. I was speeking in Ingles."

"Go on."

"Hee tell me, hee was gonna change me. Yo se wat hee mean. Den he shoot me."

"He shot you with his gun?"

"I dink so. ai dink ai must have passed out. No se wat happin next."

"Tell us what you remember."

His voice cracked, and he took a moment to compose himself. "Den, when hee stop at a red light, Ai see my chance. Ai open dee door and run as fast as Ai can. Ai don't look back. Ai just keep running until Ai find someone to help me."

"I looked, ai see ai was wearing dis. Dis vestido. Ai was talkin like dis tambien. Ai no know wat to do. I come heere."

"You don't usually dress like this?"

"No, neever. No look like dis. No talk like dis. Mee no spanish."

The officers nodded, taking notes as she spoke. "Can you describe the man?" Officer Dixon asked gently.

She nodded emphatically. "Si, hee was tall, maybe six feet, with dark hair and a beard. Hee wore a black jacket and had a scar on hees left cheek. Ai'll never forget hees face."

"You did the right thing by coming to us," the officer said softly. "We're going to do everything we can to catch this guy. You're safe now."

The man nodded, tears still glistening in his eyes. "Gracias, offiseer. Ai just want heem caught so hee can't hurt anyone else."

The questioning continued. The man who called himself Rosa answered as many questions as well as he could. He struggled talking in English despite that being his native tongue.

When the interview concluded, Officer Phelps asked. "Would you like us to bring you some male clothing?"

"Si," the man said as he shook his head.

"I'll see what we have."

The officers exited the room and then returned with a simple blue t-shirt and jeans for the man to wear. The exited to give the man some privacy.

The man was happy to return to male apparel. He pulled the yellow dress over his head to discover that he was wearing a white bra and full-cut white panty briefs underneath.

The man picked up the jeans first. But he couldn't force himself to step into the pants. Similarly to the way that he couldn't make himself speak in English, he couldn't make himself wear any type of male or even unisex apparel.

"Oh, Dios Mio!" he cried out in anglish.

He didn't want to be seen naked, not even by the police officers so he redressed in the dress. He didn't know what would become of him. He might be stuck like this forever. He couldn't even tell anyone his real name.

He sobbed harder.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

In a different precinct, a young man in his early twenties found his way to the police station. He had been driven by a stranger who found him dressed strangely. The man was wearing a polyester flowy dress in vibrant colors. It had puffed sleeves, ruffle details and a floral print that gave it a Caribbean spirit. He wore it with a matching headwrap. His face was covered with thick makeup mostly of a purplish hue.

He was taken to an interrogation room for privacy.

"Mi name Geraldine Watson. Dat nuh right. Mi name Geraldine Watson. Mi cyaa tell yuh mi name. But, but, but, yuh haffi help mi, officer. Mi Lawd, mi so scared!"