“I want to see my daughter,” Ramiro said, his voice hoarse from months of silence.
The young guard looked down at him, reluctant to respond. The older guard, standing behind him, shook his head. “The condemned have no rights,” the older guard muttered, his voice laced with disdain.
But Ramiro persisted, his voice shaky but filled with an urgency that made the guards hesitate. “She’s an eight-year-old girl. I haven’t seen her in three years. Please… I just want to see her before it’s all over.”
The request was simple. It wasn’t much. But for a father who had been deprived of seeing his child for years, it meant everything. He had nothing left to lose, and he needed to see his daughter one last time before his life came to an end.
The request made its way up to the prison warden, Colonel Méndez. The warden had seen hundreds of men come and go, guilty and innocent alike, but something about Ramiro’s case always unsettled him. Despite the overwhelming evidence against him, there was something in Ramiro’s eyes—a look that didn’t belong to a killer. It was a look that spoke of a man who was out of place in that cell, someone who had been wronged.
