Salomé let go of the social worker’s hand and walked slowly toward her father.
She didn’t run, she didn’t scream.
Each step was measured, as if she had rehearsed this moment a thousand times in her mind.
Ramiro extended his handcuffed hands toward her.
The girl approached and hugged him.
For a full minute, neither of them said a word.
The guards watched from the corners.
The social worker checked her phone, paying no attention.
Then Salomé leaned close to her father’s ear and whispered something.
No one else heard the words, but everyone saw what they caused.
Ramiro paled.
His whole body began to tremble.
The tears that had been falling silently became sobs that shook his chest.
He looked at his daughter with a mixture of horror and hope that the guards would never forget.
“Is it true?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Is what you’re telling me true?” he nodded.
Ramiro stood up so violently that the chair fell to the floor.
The guards rushed toward him, but he didn’t try to escape.
He screamed, he screamed with a force he hadn’t shown in five years.
“I’m innocent.
I’ve always been innocent.
Now I can prove it.”
