“We have him,” the detective said, her voice conveying immense peace. “He tried to flee when he saw the patrol cars arrive on his sister’s street, but they intercepted him three blocks away. He was armed. He had a butcher knife and cash. He was probably planning to hurt them and escape to Michoacán. But he’s handcuffed now. He’s in a maximum-security cell. It’s over.”
The sound of sobs that filled the small prosecutor’s office was different. It was a cry of liberation. Rebeca fell to her knees, clinging to the detective’s legs, thanking God, life, and justice. Valeria, for the first time in four weeks, lifted her face. Her breathing returned to normal. The monster was caged.
The following months were an uphill battle. Rebeca immediately filed for divorce and full custody. Ernesto was formally charged and, thanks to medical evidence and the girl’s compelling testimony, was sentenced to 45 years in prison without bail. He would never see the light of day again.
Mother and daughter never returned to that cursed house. Rebeca sold her few belongings and they rented a small but bright apartment in the municipality of Zapopan. She found work in a textile factory and, although money was scarce, the peace she found in her new home was priceless.
Valeria began receiving intensive psychological therapy. The state provided her with the necessary support to legally terminate the pregnancy, the result of the most vile violence, allowing her to reclaim her body and her life. Little by little, light returned to the girl’s eyes. She started playing soccer again. She laughed with her friends again. She became a 15-year-old teenager again.
One Sunday afternoon, while they were both eating some basket tacos sitting on the living room floor, illuminated by the reddish sun of the Guadalajara sunset, Valeria put down her plate, approached her mother and rested her head on her shoulder.
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