HE ASKED TO SEE HIS DAUGHTER BEFORE DYING… AND WHAT SHE WHISPERED

—This proves nothing —said Méndez—. You only have time.

—Time is the only ally of truth—Ramiro replied.

Salome touched her father’s cheek.

—No fui valieпste aptes —he admitted.

—You were a pineapple —he said.

Mendez observed them.

“Bring me the original files,” he ordered.

The guard left.

The other murmured:
—If this is nothing, it will have delayed justice.

Méndez responded calmly:
—If it’s anything, we were almost accomplices in a lie.

Salome began to cry, and silence.

Ramiro held it as best he could.

Outside, the sun was rising over the prison walls.

But something had changed.

An hour later, the files arrived.

Three thick folders, yellowed with age.

Méndez opened them on the metal table while the guards remained silent.

The photographs appeared first.

The living room.
The body.
The weapon.

Méndez frowned.

“This…” he murmured.

Ramiro looked up.

—What’s wrong?