Chapter 9 - The Badge in Jorge’s PocketI stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
My mother looked younger, thinner, and exhausted. She wore the black dress I remembered from my father’s funeral. Hector Mendoza stood beside a dark car, one hand extended toward the envelope she held.
The date printed along the bottom was twenty-two years old.
“What was inside?” I asked.
My mother sat across from me in the protected hospital suite.
She did not deny the meeting.
“Copies of the property records.”
“You gave them to Hector?”
“I gave him altered copies.”
“Why?”
“Because he threatened to kill you.”
The answer came without hesitation.
She told me that three days after the funeral, a photograph appeared beneath our front door. It showed me walking from school with my aunt.
A note on the back said: The next heart can be smaller.
Hector demanded every document Rodrigo had left behind.
My mother copied the papers, changed registration numbers, removed the reference to the sealed testament, and delivered the false versions.
“Hector believed you?” I asked.
“For a while.”
“You never told me.”
“You were eight.”
“I’m not eight anymore.”
“No. But by the time you were old enough, you had built a life. I thought silence had protected it.”
I placed the photograph on the table.
“Karina entered my life because silence protected them.”
My mother looked down.
“I know.”
There was no defense left for either of us.
Only consequences.
The federal archive search caused an immediate political crisis. Journalists learned that investigators had removed hundreds of boxes from Mendoza headquarters. Several judges requested emergency leave. Two municipal officials resigned.
Commander Salazar disappeared before federal agents reached his home.
His police vehicle was found near the airport, but passenger records showed no evidence that he had boarded a flight.
Marisol believed someone inside law enforcement was helping him.
Two days later, she was suspended.
The official complaint accused her of mishandling evidence, coercing witnesses, and conducting unauthorized searches. Salazar had filed most of the accusations before disappearing.
“They are trying to remove everyone who understands the case,” Sofia said.
Marisol sat in our attorney’s conference room wearing civilian clothes. Without her badge, she seemed angrier, not weaker.
“The prosecutor overseeing Jorge’s case has been replaced,” she said. “The new prosecutor previously represented a Mendoza subsidiary.”
“Can they release him?” I asked.
“Not immediately. But they can weaken the charges, lose evidence, or discredit witnesses.”
“Tomas?”
“Being moved.”
“Dr. Velasco?”
“Also protected.”
“My mother?”
Marisol glanced at the window.
“We need to relocate her.”
We transferred my mother that night to a small rehabilitation center registered under Sofia’s firm. Only four people knew the address.
By morning, a black motorcycle had followed the transport vehicle for six kilometers.
Someone always knew.
The first major court hearing was scheduled for Friday. The judge would decide whether Jorge remained detained while the investigation continued.
Karina planned to testify by video from the hospital.
On Thursday evening, Claudia Serrano was found dead inside her apartment.
The official report called it suicide.
Marisol saw the crime-scene photographs and disagreed.
“Claudia was left-handed,” she said. “The gun was placed in her right hand.”
A handwritten note beside her body claimed she had acted alone in poisoning my mother and ordering the hospital abduction.
“She is being made responsible for everything,” Sofia said.
“Can we prove the note is false?”
“Eventually. But Jorge only needs doubt tomorrow.”
At the hearing, the courtroom overflowed with reporters.
Jorge entered wearing a dark suit, not prison clothing. His attorneys surrounded him. He looked across the room at me and nodded as if we were business partners attending a negotiation.
The prosecution presented the recordings from Karina’s apartment, Esteban’s testimony, the medication evidence, and Dr. Velasco’s confession.
Jorge’s attorneys attacked each piece.
The recordings had been made illegally.
Esteban was bargaining for leniency.
Dr. Velasco was an elderly man with financial problems.
Karina was an injured daughter seeking revenge.
Then they presented Claudia’s note.
Jorge’s attorney described her as a disturbed employee who had developed an obsession with the Ruiz family.
It was insulting.
It was also effective.
The judge called for Karina’s video testimony.
The screen remained blank.
A clerk whispered to the prosecutor.
The hospital could not locate her.
Karina had disappeared during a scheduled imaging procedure. A nurse found her wheelchair in an elevator, along with a small amount of blood.
Jorge showed no visible reaction.
I did not believe he was surprised.
The judge delayed the hearing for two hours while police searched the hospital.
During the recess, a message arrived on my phone from Karina’s number.
A video began playing.
Karina sat in a dark room with her injured arm still bound against her chest. Commander Salazar stood behind her.
He held a gun near her head.
“Mateo,” Karina said, reading from something beneath the camera. “My father had no involvement in Elena’s medication or abduction. I acted with Claudia Serrano because I believed the property belonged to my family.”
Her voice shook.
“I forged the documents and manipulated my husband. Jorge Mendoza knew nothing about my actions.”
Salazar leaned closer.
Karina continued.
“I will provide a signed confession if Mateo Ruiz publicly withdraws all accusations concerning his father’s death.”
The video ended.
A second message appeared.
COME ALONE OR HER CONFESSION BECOMES HER LAST STATEMENT.
Below it was a photograph of a police badge.
Commander Salazar’s badge.
Blood covered the metal.
Marisol read the message over my shoulder.
“You cannot go alone.”
“They will kill her.”
“They may kill her either way.”
“I have to try.”
Sofia stepped in front of me.
“This is not only about Karina. They want you away from the courthouse before the hearing resumes.”
“Why?”
Marisol looked toward the courtroom doors.
“Because you are the legal connection to the property.”
The answer came one minute later.
A court officer approached and handed Sofia a new filing.
Jorge’s attorneys were requesting that I be arrested for conspiracy, document theft, and attempted extortion.
Commander Salazar had submitted a sworn statement before disappearing.
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According to him, I had fabricated the evidence against the Mendoza family to steal land that never belonged to my father.
The judge had signed the warrant.
