There’s a large mirror on the wall in the interrogation room, and behind it, eyes are watching, and ears are listening. My chair scrapes loudly across the floor as I slide closer to the table. A manila folder is placed in front of me, a nude manicured index finger tapping it once.
“Miss Gutierrez, we need you to walk us through the other night again. From the beginning, before you even went to bed. Anything you can remember?”
My eyes stay glued to the fluorescent lights humming overhead. The room is bare, but a recording device with a blinking red light catches my attention. My hands are clasped tightly in my lap as I search my memory for something,anything, from that night. All I ever see any more when I close my eyes is blood. Red pools surrounding me, covering me like a blanket.
And Efren.
I still see Esteban’s younger brother, Efren, standing above me and staring down at me. His dark eyes are glued to mine. I can hear him yelling at me to leave, but I don’t. I just stay there, frozen in place, holding Esteban, looking down into his lifeless eyes and crying as he bleeds out in my arms. My eyes begin to water at the memory, and I don’t try and hold the tears back. It’s useless. A warm hand reaches for mine, and a kind smile embraces me.
“I know this must be hard for you, but I need to know if anything else has resurfaced since you gave your original statement,” Detective Johnson asks.
“I already told the officer at the hospital… I was with Esteban earlier that night. We were at his house. We’d been drinking. I stayed the night, then… I don’t know. It’s like everything goes dark.” My eyes stare at the red light blinking on the table.
“Nothing else has come up? Even the tiniest detail can be crucial in these cases, Alma.”
I search my memory again, but everything is so blurry and unfamiliar. Just one empty, dark hallway, and my mind freezes, unable to continue with the memory. Then Efren’s voice resurfaces like a small whisper inside my mind.
“You woke up, you heard a noise, and then you found him like this. Do you understand me?”
“I woke up and heard a noise, and when I got to the end of the hallway, I saw Esteban lying there, and I ran toward him,” I repeat the words, unsure of the truth behind them.
I can’t pull the pieces in my mind together or find the visual memory of the story I’m telling. Detective Johnson releases my hand and pulls back. She searches through more papers, and my eyes wander back to the blinking red light.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
“Did Esteban have any enemies? Anyone who might’ve wanted to hurt him?”
I don’t say anything for a moment. How do I explain to this woman that Esteban didn’t have enemies because he was the enemy? Everyone had been fooled by his charm. He was popular, outgoing, and attractive. Tall with light brown eyes, straight white teeth, and an athletic build from the years he’d spent playing sports. Too many of the kids I went to school with trusted him, and in the end, he was the reason many of them were on probation or even behind bars.
“I don’t know of any enemies,” I respond.
“Was Esteban abusive?”
Her question is so direct that my eyes shoot up, alarmed. “Why would you ask that?”
“There’s no other way to bring this up.” Detective Johnson leans in, her voice lowering. “But the night Esteban died and you were taken to San Miguel Medical Center, they ran some tests. Traces of benzodiazepines were found in your system. This is a common date rape drug.”
“What?” My heart accelerates at the thought.
“We believe you may have been incapacitated when the shooting happened. Perhaps that’s why you don’t remember anything. Do you recall taking this drug?”
I stare at the red light, searching my mind again, but I can’t see anything past the blood.
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
“I want you to know you’re not in trouble. We’re just trying to understand what happened. If someone hurt you, this is a safe place to say it. You don’t have to protect anyone.”
Blink.
Blink.
