He was walking down his usual route when something caught his attention — a child’s cry.

Frozen, Oliver’s heart raced. He glanced around, scanning the empty parking lot. In the shade of a parched tree sat a sleek, expensive car, its windows dark and the child’s cries coming from inside.

Without thinking, he approached, his steps weighed down by a growing sense of urgency. The windows were fogged. And there, in the backseat, a toddler was struggling. The boy’s face was flushed, his tiny lips cracked from thirst, eyes half-closed.