Cinque lunghi anni. Five years passed to gridare his innocence against indifferenti died of cement.
With only one word you rimaste prima della sua ultima marcia, Mateo Vargas has a single desire.
“Devo vedere mia figlia,” he said with a broken voice and rock.
“It is my only desire.
Lasciatemi see the piccola Elena prima che sia tutto finito.”
L’agente più giovane distolse lo sguardo, a disagio. Quello più anziano tirò su col naso e sputò per terra.
“Ai detenuti condannati non è permesso fare richieste.”
“Ha solo otto anni.”
“I don’t have it after the braccia da three years.”
“That’s all that’s wrong.”
The richest laughs the catena of command fine to raggiungere il colonnello Vargas, il direttore del prison – nessun legame di parentela – un sessantaduenne temprato che aveva seen innumerevoli uomini andare uncontro alla morte.
It was something in the case of Mateo that he was always troubled.
The case was inattaccabile: digital imprint of his weapon of crime, vestiti intrisi of blood, a vicino who turned around from having seen Mateo escape from the scene that was notte.
Eppure, quegli occhi… were not the gli occhi of an assassin. Il colonnello Vargas ave passato trent’anni unparare a leggerli.
“Behave your baby,” he ordered calmly.
Three ore dopo, a simple white van if it arrived at the cancelli of theUn’assistance sociale e uscì, stringing the piccola mano of a child with a serious look, from the capelli castano chiaro e dagli occhi fin troppo maturi per i suoi otto anni.
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