And then, the final blow. There was a bank receipt signed by Vicente, Mateo’s brother. Vicente had received 500,000 pesos from the local strongman’s accounts exactly two days before Mateo’s truck brakes failed. His own brother had betrayed him. His own flesh and blood had him murdered to keep a portion of the money and ensure no one would talk.
Mateo’s letter was brief: “Elena, my love. I discovered that the water in the entire valley isn’t dry; it’s been deliberately blocked by Garza. Beneath our 12 hectares lies the entrance to the region’s largest aquifer. Vicente betrayed me. Mourn my death, but don’t give up. Look for lawyer Diego in the capital; he’s the only one not on the mayor’s payroll. Make them pay.”
The next morning, Elena walked 20 kilometers through the desert, avoiding the main roads where Commander Rojas’s police were patrolling, searching for her.
She arrived at a neighboring town dehydrated and with dirty clothes, but with a clearer mind than ever. Doña Carmelita, an elderly woman who had been a friend of her mother, hid her in the back of a flatbed truck that was transporting lemons to the state capital.
It was five days of bureaucratic hell. In the big city, Elena found Diego, a 26-year-old lawyer, idealistic and hungry for justice. When Diego saw the documents, he paled. “This isn’t a local case, Elena,” he told her, adjusting his glasses. “This is federal fraud, embezzlement of national funds, and organized murder. If we present this to the Attorney General’s Office, Garza’s jurisdiction and his bribed police will be useless.”
They prepared the case in secret. Elena didn’t sleep. She went over every date, every amount stolen, every hectare seized, using the same mental discipline she used to teach mathematics to her students.
