The moment he saw her, his eyes filled with tears.
“My little girl…” he whispered. “My Salomé…”
She released the social worker’s hand and walked toward him slowly. Not running. Not crying.
Each step deliberate. Measured. As if she had rehearsed this moment countless times in her mind.
Ramiro stretched his cuffed hands toward her.
She embraced him.
For a full minute, neither spoke.
The guards watched from the corners. The social worker scrolled on her phone.
Then Salomé leaned close to her father’s ear.
She whispered.
No one else heard the words.
But everyone saw the effect.
Ramiro turned pale.
His entire body began to shake.
Silent tears became uncontrollable sobs. His chest heaved violently.
He pulled back just enough to look at her.
“Is it true?” he asked, voice breaking. “What you’re saying… is it true?”
She nodded.
Ramiro shot to his feet so abruptly the chair crashed behind him.
“I am innocent!” he screamed — louder than he had in five years. “I was always innocent! Now I can prove it!”
