The clock on the wall read 6 a.m. when the guards opened Ramiro Fuentes’ cell.
5 years waiting for this day, 5 years of shouting his innocence at walls that never responded.
Now, just hours away from facing the final sentence, he only had one request left.
“I want to see my daughter,” he said in a hoarse voice.
That’s all I ask.
Let me see Salome before it’s all over.
The youngest guard looked at him with pity.
The oldest one spat on the ground.
The convicted have no rights.
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