Sergio tore the newspaper from his hands, broke it in half and threw it in his face.
The leaves fell on the grass.
A five-year-old girl started crying.
“Mom, why do you talk to him like that?”
The mother hugged her tight.
Don Manuel raised his hands a little more.
I'm not resisting.
Sergio pushed him with both hands.
Strong.
Don Manuel stumbled and hit his back against the bench.
The entire park let out a scream.
It was not a procedure.
It was abuse.
Then Inspector Ricardo Cruz, Sergio’s boss, appeared walking as if he already knew how it would all end.
Fifty and so many years.
Hard belly of power.
A man's face used to no one contradicting him.
What's going on here, Molina?
Sergio replied without hesitation:
“Suspicious individual. He's not identified. He refuses to obey.
Don Manuel looked at the inspector.
“I was just sitting around, waiting for my wife.
Richard didn't even hear it.
“Spoil it. We clear it up at the police station.
People protested.
“He didn’t do anything!
We are recording it!
Leave him alone!
Sergio grabbed Don Manuel's arm and twisted it backwards.
“Hands on the back.
Don Manuel obeyed.
Click.
Click.
The wives closed on their dolls.
Too tight.
Then Sergio did something that no one in that park would forget.
He put a hand on his head and forced him to kneel on the lawn.
Don Manuel’s knees hit the earth.
His pants were stained.
Sergio leaned a knee on his back.
“He must have gotten up when I told him.
Twenty meters away, Javier Robles stood still.
The ball fell to his feet.
Now yes.
Now I remembered that face.
Seven years ago.
An internal investigation.
A young agent falsely accused by a corrupt superior.
His career about to die.
And a man from the National Agency entering the room and saying,
“From this moment, this case is taken by me.”
That man saved Javier.
That man was Manuel Rivas.
Manuel Rivas himself who was now on his knees in the park.
“My God,” Javier whispered.
