Jaime Murillo stepped forward.
I served my country. I came back with a damaged leg and a medal. You called me trash. I had thirty-six hours in a cell without charge. The inspector signed that everything was right.
Richard looked at the table.
Alberto sweated.
Elena showed an email.
From Richard to Sergio.
Six months earlier.
“Squeeze with the usual. Quotas matter more than complaints. I'm taking care of any problems."
Don Manuel spoke without raising his voice.
That’s not an ambiguous phrase. It is a direct order to abuse power with a promise of protection.
The prosecutor stood up.
—Agent Sergio Molina, he is detained for abuse of authority, illegal detention, assaults, manipulation of evidence and violation of fundamental rights.
Two officers approached.
Sergio started crying.
“I just followed orders.
Tom looked at him coldly.
“That phrase didn’t give me back eight months with my daughter.
The prosecutor continued.
Inspector Ricardo Cruz is being held for obstruction, cover-up, conspiracy, falsification of reports and systematic abuse of power.
Richard said nothing.
It seemed aged twenty years.
—Councilman Alberto Flores, he is arrested for corruption, money laundering, fraud in public contracts and conspiracy to obstruct investigations.
Alberto got up.
I am an elected representative. I have immunity.
Prosecutor Montes looked at him without emotion.
“No charge puts anyone above the law.
The handcuffs closed.
Click.
The same sound that Don Manuel had heard an hour earlier.
But this time he didn't humiliate an innocent man.
This time he weighed on the culprits.
When they were taken out of the police station, half a village was out.
Witnesses from the park.
Neighbors.
Local reporters.
Entire families.
The five-year-old girl was on her mother’s shoulders.
Seeing Don Manuel free, he pointed with his hand.
“Mom, look. The good lord is fine. The bad cop didn't win.
His mother cried.
“Yes, honey. He didn't win.
The applause started timid.
Then they grew up.
They were not party applause.
They were of relief.
Of contained rage.
Of people who, for once, saw consequences.
A journalist asked:
“Director Rivas, what message does this leave?
Don Manuel looked at the cameras.
To the neighbors.
To the victims.
To the good agents who had been afraid for years.
“Uncontrolled power is rotting. There was justice today, yes. But it shouldn't be necessary for them to arrest a national director for someone to listen to twenty-three victims.
