Dolores replied. It means that the system that was supposed to protect him was corrupted from within.
This means we need to act now. Judge Torres heard Sara’s testimony, then Martín’s.
He examined Salomé’s drawing with the analysis of the forensic psychologist. He reviewed the records of real estate transactions between Gonzalo and Aurelio.
Finally, he spoke. The evidence presented is sufficient to order the immediate suspension of the execution and the reopening of the Fuentes case.
I issue an arrest warrant against Aurelio Sánchez for conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and complicity in attempted homicide.
Notify the penitentiary immediately. Dolores felt her legs tremble. They had done it.
Aurelio Sánchez knew something had gone wrong when four judicial agents arrived at his office. “Wés Sánchez needs to come with us,” said the agent in charge.
“Under what charges? This is ridiculous.”
Do you know who I am? We know perfectly well, sir.
That’s why we’re here.” Aurelio tried to negotiate. He offered information about other corrupt officials.
He promised to hand over documents that would implicate senators, governors, and businessmen, but the agents had specific orders and no negotiations. As they handcuffed him, Aurelio made one last call from his personal phone.
No one knew who he called or what he said, but 30 minutes later his office was raided by unknown people who tried to take his safe.
The police arrived in time to arrest them. Inside the safe, they found what Aurelio called his life insurance.
Decades of documented corruption, videos of politicians receiving bribes, recordings of judges selling sentences, fraudulent contracts signed by prominent businessmen.
Aurelio had built an empire of secrets, but that empire was now collapsing around him.
In the penitentiary, Colonel Méndez received the judicial notification with a mixture of relief and anger.
“I knew it,” he murmured. “I knew that man was innocent.”
He ordered Ramiro Fuentes to be brought to his office. He had news for him. News that would change everything.” Gonzalo Fuentes was in his cell when the guard brought him the news.
Sara was alive. She had testified against him. The recordings from that night were now in the hands of the court.
The color drained from her face. “It’s not possible,” he whispered. “She was dead. I made sure.” But he hadn’t made sure.
He had been careless. He had left his victim without confirming that she was no longer breathing.
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