Blood-drenched Beard

It’s like this, man. Let’s suppose it really was a police chief from Laguna. The guy may have started an inquest or not. If he did, he may have named a suspect or not. Sometimes there is no one to name, or sometimes an agreement is struck because there are important people involved, that kind of thing. Okay? At any rate, the police chief has to refer the inquest to the Department of Justice. The judge sends it to a public prosecutor even if there are no suspects. When there is a suspect, the prosecutor seeks an indictment. When there isn’t a suspect, he can either ask the investigators for further information or request that the case be archived, which is most likely in this nobody-knows, nobody-saw-it kind of crime. It’s the judge who makes the final decision.

Right. So you think it must have been archived straight off, then?

It’s most likely. If there was an inquest. So let’s consider this hypothesis. The guy had it archived. In 1969. So what happens forty years later? What matters now is that the case has two destinations. One copy has to go to the civil police archives. After twenty years the statute of limitations expires, and if no one has reopened it, the police send it to the state public archive. Right?

Right.

And another copy goes to the state court.

So all I have to do is go to those archives?

In theory, yes, but here’s the thing. The archives should be kept forever, but in some cases the states get authorization to have them incinerated because they take up a shitload of space. You’ll have to see what the story is in Santa Catarina. The upshot is that if there was an inquest and if it was correctly archived and if it hasn’t been incinerated or lost in the last forty years, you might find it — if you’re lucky and you look properly and talk to the right people.

Right. And…?

That’s it.

Okay.

Did you get it all?

I didn’t get anything, to be honest.

What part?

I dunno, I’ve already forgotten everything. I don’t know how you memorize all that crap. You’re a journalist. I’m dumb. Any chance you could e-mail it to me?

Fuck, man.

Sorry. It’s the state archive, right? Civil police.

Look…

Gonçalo thinks for a moment on the other end of the line.

Look, leave it with me. I know how to talk to these people. I’m snowed under covering the traffic department scandal here — have you seen what’s going on? They siphoned off forty-fucking-four million. It’s blowing up in the governor’s face — but as soon as I have a minute to breathe I’ll make a few calls and try to get something for you.

Great. Thanks. Thanks a lot, Gonça.

No problem. You’ve done me lots of favors. It’s my pleasure. I think I might even owe you money.

You don’t owe me anything.

I’m going to visit you there one of these days.

Do. Bring the girls.

Man, Valéria’s so big. You won’t believe it. And you should see her typing on a keyboard. It’s frightening.

Is she, what, seven now?

Six. But she’s like a little grown-up. She only acts like a kid when it’s convenient. What about you? I heard about your dad. That was pretty heavy shit. I didn’t find out until ages afterward. I’m really sorry.

Thanks. Everything’s fine. It was fucked up, but it’s over. You still swimming?

Me? Fuck no. Just smoking like a chimney and drinking nonstop. It’s over for me.

No, it isn’t. You just can’t allow yourself to fold, Gonça.

It’s too late for me. How’re you doing?

I’m great. I’m working at a gym here, I can swim in the ocean whenever I want, and I can keep to myself. I really want to see this thing with my granddad through.

But is there any special reason why you want to dredge it all up?

As he thinks about his reply, he looks at Beta, who is asleep on the living room rug, kicking her back paw, perhaps struggling to remain in a dream.

There is. But I don’t know how to explain it.

Did your dad ask you to?

No. Or maybe he did ask without asking. You know? Or maybe I just decided I had to know, and now I have to know.

Okay. Don’t sweat. We’ll find something.

Thanks, Gonça.

I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got something to tell. Take care there, swimmer.

You too.

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