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.
âCome on.
âRevenge Is A Kind Of Wild Justice â
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.
- She cries as she says her name, but continues to speak in tears. It was disastrous to see him in a coma. It was terrible. My little one, so many years without seeing him and seeing his face again, touched his hand without real life, connected to a device, as if he were a doll. I stayed by his side, never left him.
- What happened to the boy?
- Something unexpected. Well, a mother always thinks she'll die in her bed after having her whole family around about that time, but sometimes it's not like that; at least, I never thought of it that way.
- It must be painful what happened to you, I put myself in your place.
- You never wanted to be in my shoes, admit it. Deep down, you're terrified of my case, my reasons and my consequences.
- That's right - she sighs - but I'm a mother. Before I became a cop, I was a mother more than anything.
- Then, mother to mother, you'll understand me. HER eyes look watery. There's a deep regret in that look.
Officer Fatima was silent for a few seconds. I was impressed. The woman had struck a chord with his being. It made her feel a void for the unknown and a pain for what he would meet in the next two hours.
-Yes. She lowers her head, lifts it up and moves closer to the fence, their faces being very close. Only the cold bars separate them. Mother to mother, I promise.
-Good. He withdraws from the bars and sits on the floor at the back of the cell. You only see the smoke and the little light of the almost finished cigarette.
- I have to tell you, this is very strange. I know this case very well, I have interacted with the child's family, I have seen their suffering, but I must admit that their mystery has me totally captivated. It's a little hope.
- Hope? So, do you think I'm innocent? It would be a miracle. Everyone in this state and in this nation thinks I'm guilty. I don't recommend that you be any different from them. Well, at least for the duration of our talk.
- What's the point of me listening to her without hope?
- Well, do it for your children, think of them now. Close your eyes, think about what would happen if someone touched a single hair of theirs.
Fatima clearly understood that this woman could be more guilty than innocent.
- Then I will listen to her without hope, that's what I must do.
All right, that's the way I like it. The elements of surprise are indispensable in this conversation.
-Let's start again. Time is running out.
- I told you I was in that hospital for months, three and a half. At first there was hope that he would come back, but no. His case was very strange: he went into a deep coma that ate away his young body. It looked like a corpse connected to a machine. I hope it didn't hurt. Well, the doctors say Ismat didn't suffer at all. Maybe they're saying it so that I as a mother can feel resigned to it. I had an argument with his father the day I arrived, and with his mother, who was responsible for my husband's waiting with this country and deciding to leave everything to come and live here. At the time, the idea of leaving my life in Kenya was not attractive to me. We were happy, we had a home. He worked as a motorcycle mechanic downtown and I did fabric work. I'm a seamstress, although when I got here I gave up sewing, but it's what I do best.