Diego nodded gravely and approached the podium. Seated there, his twelve years suddenly appearing much younger under the courtroom lights, Diego pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket. His hands trembled so much he almost dropped it. He began to speak, his voice breaking. He said that three weeks earlier, the day the ring disappeared, he hadn’t been at school. He had a fever, and his mother had taken him to the Mendoza family’s villa, something she rarely did, only in emergencies.
Carmen remembered now. Diego had stayed in the staff room downstairs while she worked, but Diego continued. He said that at one point he had gone to look for his mother upstairs. He had heard voices coming from the master bedroom, angry voices. He had stayed in the shadows of the hallway, frightened. He had seen Javier Mendoza in the bedroom. He was agitated, nervous, talking on the phone. He was saying something about money, about debts, about dangerous people.
Then he had seen Javier open the safe. He knew the combination. It was obviously his son. Javier had taken something small and shiny. Diego didn’t know what it was then, but now he understood it was the ring. He had put it in his pocket and left hurriedly. Diego said he had been afraid to speak up. Javier had seen him briefly, but probably thought he was just a child who didn’t understand. And Diego, in fact, hadn’t understood the significance of what he had seen until his mother was accused.
Tears streamed freely down Diego’s face as he said he’d been too afraid to speak up, afraid no one would believe him, afraid of what might happen to him and his mother. The son of a millionaire was being accused, but he couldn’t stay silent any longer and watch his mother be destroyed for something she hadn’t done. Then he unfolded the piece of paper. It was a blurry photo taken with his old phone, showing a figure in the hallway.
It wasn’t clear, but it was enough to recognize Javier Mendoza. The courtroom erupted. García immediately began to object, calling the whole thing a story concocted by a desperate child. Eduardo Mendoza had turned as white as a sheet. Isabel had finally taken off her sunglasses and was staring at Diego in horror. But Judge Martínez raised his hand, calling for silence. In a calm but firm voice, he said that this was a serious accusation and that it required investigation.
He asked where Javier Mendoza was at that moment. Eduardo mumbled something about his son, who was abroad on business. The judge ordered that he be contacted immediately and subpoenaed to testify. Then the judge did something more. He ordered that all of Javier’s phone calls from that day be checked, that his bank accounts be reviewed, and that any possible debts be investigated. Carmen looked at her son, tears now streaming down her face as well. Diego had carried that burden for weeks.
She had suffered in silence and had finally found the courage to speak out. The trial was postponed for a week while the investigations proceeded, but the Mendozas didn’t wait patiently. That very afternoon, Eduardo tried to use all his connections to make the problem disappear. He called judges, politicians, anyone who owed him favors, but he had underestimated two things. First, Judge Martínez was incorruptible, one of the few in the system. Second, the story had leaked. A journalist present in the courtroom had tweeted it in real time.
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