Guilty Until Proven Innocent

 “Guilty until proven Innocent”

The night was dark. The sun had already sunk in the horizon and the moon was nowhere to be seen. Everything was still. Not one living being bothered to disrupt the resounding silence enveloping the whole town. Darkness loomed around every corner. Gloomy alleys branched out from the road. These were all, but empty. Creatures of the night roamed around helplessly. Cats stepped lightly on roofs and moved stealthily around every house. Mice slithered in and out of buildings through holes in the walls. A stray dog wandered rather quietly on the other side of the road. Several people decided to roam the almost deserted road. There was a curfew, but the Guardia Civil were nowhere in sight to apprehend any offenders.

A young boy walked alone in the middle of the road. His shirt was in tatters and his shorts were in utter disrepair. He walked on barefoot as his slippers had already been eaten by the ground. His slippers had been punch-holed by the pointy rocks and the ground. He had left them some time ago. He was in no position replace them, because he couldn’t afford to buy new pair of slippers. His hair was messy and was cluttered with the dirt and dust of his surroundings. His sand-caked face didn’t bear a smile. Instead it bore an expression that even an artist couldn’t paint on his canvas. The young boy was poor and thin. His body was frail and feeble-looking. It was a miracle he could endure the long walk to his house. The small hands, small waist, thin face, short stature and slow movement showed signs of malnutrition. The boy was tired and thirsty, too. He would desiccate if he couldn’t find a potable source of water in the next hour.

The boy continued walking down the road lined with decrepit houses. His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten anything since this morning, since he left the house. He grabbed his tummy and crumpled it as if he could lessen the pain of his acid-filled stomach. He was about to falter and fall down on the road when he saw his older brother running towards him.

“Where have you been?” His brother asked as he approached. “Mother has been looking for you everywhere. I have been looking for you everywhere. We’re so worried.”

The boy didn’t look up. He stared at the ground and didn’t bother to reply to his brother.

“Are you okay?” His brother grabbed his arm.

The boy didn’t answer. He neither nodded nor shook his head in response to his brother’s question. Instead of replying to his brother, the only thing he did was put his clenched hands beside his back. He seemed to be hiding something.

“Hey, can you hear me?” His brother shook him. “Crispin! Can you hear me?”

Crispin continued his silence. His brother looked at him seriously and then noticed Crispin’s hands.

“What are you hiding? What’s in your hands?”

Crispin didn’t answer. He only swallowed deeply.

“Crispin!” Basilio shook his younger brother. “Answer me.” Basilio closed his eyes and calmed himself. He realized that he shouldn’t be shouting and causing a disturbance at this time of night. Even though there were no Guardia Civil around, he still should be careful. “What’s in your hands?”

Finally, Crispin looked up. His eyes were pitch black and puffy as if he’d been crying. He looked at his brother with those eyes seemingly asking for forgiveness.

Basilio was a clever boy. He immediately knew that something was wrong with his brother. He felt it when he looked at Crispin’s sorrowful eyes. He swallowed slowly and took a deep breath.

“What did you do?” He lowered down his voice to comfort his brother. “What did you do, Crispin?”

Crispin opened his mouth a little. A small voice escaped. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t steal anything.”

Basilio’s mouth hung open a little. “What do you mean steal?” His voice was already a whisper as if he wanted their conversation to be in utter discretion. “They accused you…” Basilio’s voice trailed. “…of stealing?”

Crispin nodded.

“What did they say? What did you steal?” Basilio asked his brother rather forcefully. “Tell me, Crispin. What did you steal?”

Crispin shook his head. “I didn’t steal anything.”

“Then, what are they accusing you of?” Basilio was already frantic. If this was true, his brother would be on the end of the chopping block. He couldn’t let that happen. But first, he needed to know the truth.

“Show me your hands,” Basilio ordered. “Show me what’s in them.”

“It’s nothing, Basilio.” Crispin backed slightly away from Basilio. “And I told you I didn’t steal anything. Mother will be angry if I stole something. I don’t want mother to be angry. You know that, Basilio.”

Basilio wanted to believe that Crispin really didn’t steal anything, but he needed to know the truth. It was the only way he could protect his brother. He needed to know the whole truth.

“I know that, Crispin.” Basilio put his arms across his chest. “But I also know that I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s happening. I need to know the truth. I need to know what you did or what you didn’t do or what everyone else thinks you did.”

There was a pause. Crispin just looked up at his brother quietly.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help me understand,” Basilio added. There was already a frown forming on his forehead. “Crispin, please…”

Crispin sniffed. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew that he should tell his brother the truth; that he didn’t steal anything. But he also knew within him that it wouldn’t matter if Basilio or his mother knew the truth, the people, the Guardia Civil and the Senior Sacristan would still think of him as the thief. There was no point in including Basilio to the problem. He would be an accessory to this crime if he helped Crispin. The only thing that he could do was to stay silent and to let him be the direction of all the blame. He couldn’t let his brother, his mother or even his drunken father go down with him. He couldn’t take it if he lost anyone of them. They were his family and he couldn’t live without them. He decided to stay silent and told him the only truth that Basilio needed to know. It was also the only truth that mattered.

“I told you. I didn’t steal anything.”

Although that news should comfort Basilio’s troubled feelings, he still didn’t feel calm. He was nervous about something other than his brother going down to jail. He was nervous about something other than them going hungry. He was scared about something other than the probable thought of his younger brother dying. He was scared about something else.

Instead of forcing Crispin for answers, Basilio decided to end the interrogation.

“Okay. I believe you,” Basilio said.

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