They said a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets... Then what is that of a Man?
**********************************
February 14, 1970
The judge brought his gavel down.
A sentence of life imprisonment without the possibility of a parole is the sentence given to the accused. The man smiled, he had twenty seven years of a torturous life, so, he has no qualms to live the rest of it in jail.
The woman in a pink frilly dress sitting on the prosecution side hugged both her kids towards her chest.
She keeps staring at the man who had not made a single eye contact with her through out the trial. A man who voluntarily confessed to the murder of the woman's husband. He was found at the crime scene, drenched in her husband's blood. When the police came, he held out his hand and said "I was drunk and when I came to, I have killed him."
She can't help but wonder, why did he do such a thing? Why didn't he say a word to protect himself? He all but served his ass to the authorities.
When the guards took his arm and bound it in cuffs, he finally turned towards her, smiled and bowed his head.
His actions confused Maria. Did he deserve the punishment? She would argue differently. But, she don't know this man, so Maria left the court house with her two children, ready to start a new life. She thought it will be the last time she will ever think of the man.
Until........
*****************************************************
Present Day
Police officer, Mark Salazar, started his day just as he always did. He rose from their bed, walked up to his children's room, checked on them and went straight to the bathroom.
And when he descended from the second floor, his wife is already in the kitchen, waiting for him to have his breakfast. The kids have risen and his wife, as always, is too busy with their toddler, that she normally ends up unable to have breakfast herself.
That morning, he kissed his wife goodbye, headed for his car and drove to his workplace, ignorant of the emotional roller-coaster he and his co-workers are about to face.
The San Fernando Correctional Facility is a maximum security prison that holds many notorious gang leaders, drug Lords, murderers, rapist and just about any fellon who had committed a grave crime. It is strategically located away from any subdivisions or local housing communities in the City. It is a four storey, doble building complex connected by a narrow tunnel on the ground level. A twenty-five feet wall with barb wires surrounds the entire prison, accompanied by guard posts on atleast every five meters of the entire vicinity, to keep its prisoners from escaping, making the prison a perfect place to hold even convicted influential officials. It has been standing since 1980 and managed to survive due to the constant renovations done to it, everytime a new President comes to office.
When PO1 Salazar timed in, he immediately received a playful punch on the side by Harold Sarmiento. A veteran officer of the San Fernando prison.
"Hey bud, you ready for another day?" Harold asked while locking his left arm on the young man's shoulder.
"Yah, just hope there are no riots today!" Salazar answered whilst checking the lunch box his wife prepared for him the night before.
"Well would you look at that, a full course meal eh!" his senior said teasingly, when his box opened to a well cooked chicken afritada with rice, a piece of apple, a side dish made up of steamed broccoli with butter and a slice of pudding.
Mark smiled and shoved his lunch box inside his locker. "Alright, let's wake them up!" another officer yelled as Mark and six other cops proceeded to the west wing of the building.
The bell rang, a familiar sound that every inmate learned to wait for, during their waking hours. The clacking sound of police baton on metal bars echoed through out the floor.
"Alright animals, rise and shine!" Harold yelled, as he walked by one prison cell to another. Mark tagged behind him along with four others. The second floor of the west wing is their post. They are responsible for the inmate's morning check and count.
The cell doors automatically opened and immediately, inmates in an orange jumpsuit came out of each. They aligned themselves to their cell door while waiting for the most dreaded head count. If one inmate happened to be missing, they will all suffer the consequences.
1.2.3...the count has begun, filling the entire floor with rough voices and excited tones, ready to leave their small cell to join the rest of the inmates inside the prison food court. But when it came for inmate 47 the count has stopped. Harold immediately called out to him but was answered with silence, followed by murmurs and long sighs from prisoners who are desperately waiting to have their breakfast.
"47, come out, don't make me come in there and kick your ass old man." Harold yelled. Still, he is answered with silence. The inmate beside 247 decided to step out of line and took a peek inside the cell.
"He is inside, hey 47!" The man yelled, but the body on the cot did not move an inch.
Harold signaled for Mark to follow him and as per protocol, he took out his stung gun and baton, then walked behind his senior.
When Harold and Mark arrived in front of cell 247. They slowly entered with their baton raised above their head and pulled off the blanket covering the body on the bed. What greeted them is an open eyed, mouth agaped face. His pale body and lack of chest movement did not need anymore confirmation for life. The prisoner in cell 247 is dead.
After an hour, the inmates are ushered to the food court and prisoner 247's body was immediately removed and sent to the morgue for autopsy.
Following a well established rule, Mark and two other guards checked 247's cell for any foul play or hidden weapons, not to mention drugs. He was perhaps an old man, and had always been a silent prisoner, but one can never be too careful.
Everything looked normal, except when one guard pulled up the bedding and found what looks like a big brown envelope. Mark signaled for the guard to be careful. Pipe bombs are also common in the prison cells. Though he found it intriguing, how the prisoners even managed to create some.
"Pick it up slowly" Mark commanded.
The other guard bent down and carefully picked up the brown envelope, raised it in the air and said "Too light to be a weapon or a bomb."
"Drugs?" Mark asked. His two companions shrugged their shoulders to indicate their lack of clue. So, Mark took the envelope and opened it.
"What's inside" both man asked.
Mark raised an eyebrow and said "Letters, tons of it."
Harold appeared behind them arching an eyebrow. "What in Mary's name are those?" he asked while taking the envelope from Mark's hand.
"I don't remember 247 ever receiving any letter, hell, I don't remember him sending any." Harold argued while skimming through the numerous letters inside the envelope.
"Maria, who is Maria? One guard asked.
"Family perhaps" Mark answered as he took one of the letters.
"Don't think so, this guy has been here for 40 years and he spent 10 more in another prison, before he was sent to San Fernando. He is one of the pioneering prisoners of this place." Harold murmured.
"Well, let's get this to the warden and see what he has to say" officer Sarmiento suggested as the four of them left the confines of cell 247.
