The bloodstained clothing was still sealed in plastic bags. The fingerprints on the weapon had been classified as absolutely conclusive evidence. Yet, no one had ever requested a second, independent, and thorough analysis.
Five years ago, media pressure demanded a culprit be quickly identified. A man singled out by his own brother was a practical and convenient solution. Meanwhile, Salomé waited patiently in a small room with the assistant.
She swung her feet without touching the ground, her gaze lost in the distance. She didn’t seem frightened by the place; she simply seemed exhausted by everything. “Why didn’t you speak up sooner?” the woman asked, less certain of herself.
Salomé took a long moment to answer, carefully searching for her words. “Because he told me that if Dad went out, he would hurt us.” She didn’t say the word “kill,” she didn’t make any direct threats.
But the meaning was crystal clear to the assistant, who felt a knot in her stomach. She had signed reports stating that the child remembered nothing. She had trusted the adults’ statements, ignoring the child’s silences.
In his cell, Ramiro replayed every second of that fateful night over and over. He remembered the argument with his wife, the bitter words they exchanged. He remembered going out onto the patio to breathe the fresh night air.
He remembered returning and finding her lifeless on the cold floor. He remembered shouting Esteban’s name even before the police arrived. This detail was never mentioned at the trial because no one believed him.
Hours later, Mendez finally received a preliminary expert report. The analysis suggested that the fingerprints on the weapon were strangely overlapped and forced, as if someone had pressed Ramiro’s hand onto the object afterward.
The colonel leaned back in his chair, breathless. This didn’t yet prove complete innocence, but the manipulation was blatant. And in irreversible cases, doubt completely changed the legal landscape.
