The Inducer. Ruthy Garcia

to his cell. He's curious to understand what he told you.

      - Do you know the woman? What do you know about her?

      - Do you know the woman you sleep with every night? Its official life, nobody knows who's who.

      The officer sees him leaving the room with a newspaper under his arm, whistling quietly. Then he goes quickly to the corridor to meet Fatima.

      - Are you crazy, Sander? Do you know it's dangerous? If they see only one guard guarding only one defendant, they could lose their job.

      The corridors are packed with people. Outside you can see through the glass the masses with banners. Yesi smiles at it.

      - Are you out of your mind? How do you smile when you see so many people wanting to see their heads roll on the ground? I don't understand it.

      - Ironic, isn't it? Should I be crying then?

      - What did the man in the room say to you? Sander's curiosity is harmful.

      - I don't know him, I don't know what he told me..... I feel a certain weakness in my speech.

      - It doesn't look like it, black girl. Sander is rude to say it in his ear. It's a racial commentary.

      - Leave her alone, Sander. Remember that the United States is made up of immigrants and don't forget that I am one. His black eyes are staring at him.

      They continued walking until they took Yesi to the cell. When he uncuffed him, he sat down on the floor.

      - We'll come back for you in a little while. They just reported that the trial's been postponed for another two hours. You better start thinking about how to explain where you're keeping the boy. You're gambling a lot.

      - Sander, leaves her alone. Go on, get out of here.

      Officer Fatima stands in front of her in the cell.

      - You didn't kill that kid, did you? Tell me you weren't stupid enough to do something like that. Everyone, everyone expects you to tell them the whereabouts of the boy. We're tired. We're tired. It's been a thorough investigation and I've been up all night. I remember you came here by your own volition, having disappeared with the boy for so many days. You gave yourself up on your own accord. Please, speak up.

      - Do you believe in justice?

      The question brought the officer closer to her.

      - Yes, of course, I believe in her. In a way I practice it, I'm part of it.

      - Indirectly, yes. The police, the judges, the lawyers, they all think they have justice in their hands, but no one speaks freely of what is wrapped up in their hearts at times, what sometimes keeps them awake at night. You don't know until it's your turn.

      - And what is it? What wraps up our hearts?

      - Vengeance!

      The officer paused. He turned and looked back at the woman with some distaste. She saw how all her companions were getting ready to go to recess, going to lunch and other things. She had given herself to Yesi. That cell hallway was quiet. There were other cells, occupied by individuals accused of other crimes.

      - I think what everyone says is true. She's sick, Yesi Polman. What they say about you seems to be true, that revenge has to do with your surrogate relationship. She's crazy!

      - Crazy? Do you believe it? His face is coming intimidating towards the bars.

      The officer pulls up a wooden chair that is glued to the wall and sits down.

      - Convince me, come on! Tell me how I can change my perception of your misguided approach to kidnapping a stepson, holding him captive, heavens, perhaps even murdering him. God, I have kids. What can be so justifiable about this, tell me?

      - Do you really want to know?

      - Yes, we have two wonderful hours to break this down. Make me change my mind.

      - Only if you can do me a favour at the end of the day.

      - I don't have to negotiate with you.

      - We are not negotiating, just quenching your thirst for knowledge, but I must count on you for a small favour.

      - At least tell me what the favour is.

      - That's the problem, I'll only tell you when I'm done talking to you.

      The officer thinks twice about it. Her curiosity is greater than her responsibility.

      All right, but I'm warning you, I don't accept dishonourable, dishonest propositions. I want you to be clear about that.

      -Not at all. I would never ask you to be a cop a second time. It's sarcastic.

      Smile lightly at Detective Fatima.

      - We have a lot in common, officer.

      - Oh, yeah? For example?

      - The cigarette. Her teeth are from a smoker.

      - Her are white, he doesn't seem to smoke.

      - It's African to have teeth that are white and strong, it comes from my genes, but I smoke, in the last two years I've learned to smoke.

      - She says it with pride.

      - No, it's just one of the few things I've learned in these violent times.

      - Tell me about these things.

      - There are so many of them! -Smile.

      - What about you? Tell me something about your life.

      - I was a very happy woman, until my husband decided to divorce me, he took custody of my son from me and I came to live in the United States after the American dream.

      - Wait a minute, is she the mother of the Fournier boy?

      - No, and that man is not the husband of whom I speak; rather, I speak of my former husband, Yaro, to whom I gave a son, to my misfortune.

      The officer remains perplexed. These details of the defendant do not appear in your file.

      - I didn't know this.

      - I know. I came to this country as a single woman. I had to overflow a plane to go to a hospital for months.

      - Did she come in sick?

      - No, I was never healthier than I was then. At that time anger, hatred, resentment had not clothed this dry heart.

      - I'm sorry.

      - Can I have a cigarette?

      - Of course. Here you go. He turns it on and gives it to her.

      - You can't imagine what I was craving to smoke. Do you know what? When I started doing it, it was to fit in a circle. Funny, I ended up liking him. He's throwing smoke up.

      - Tell me about that circle.

      I'll talk to him, I just have to tell him the facts from the beginning, so that he can better understand and collaborate with what I'll ask without hesitation.

      â€”Come on.

       “Revenge Is A Kind Of Wild Justice “

      Francis Bacon

      CHAPTER II

      Confessions

      - The radiant woman coming from Kenya left her charm at the Nairobi airport after the call from my old husband, who told me at that moment the gravity of our sixteen year old son, my beloved Ismat, was in.

      -