Entry 12.
08:14 AM
One of the officers walks away. Lights a cigarette. Can’t take it anymore.
08:17 AM
A forensic tech raises his hand.
“Got something.”
They found a piece of fabric.
A hand. Plastic. A bag.
The smell – so strong even the wind stops.
Kuwait doesn’t turn immediately.
He closes his eyes.
Counts to six.
Only then steps forward.
“Not here. Don’t open it here.”
“DNA confirmation?”
“Urgent.”
Entry 13.
Official report: “Partial remains of a female body, wrapped in polyethylene and cloth.”
A delicate ring on her hand, with a tiny stone.
Broken nail polish.
Kuwait notes every detail.
Because she needs nothing now.
But he still needs truth.
He speaks evenly,
but behind his eyes, something whispers:
“You found her.
But now – you have to live with that.”
Entry 14.
Later, he’ll write the report.
Sign the protocol.
Issue instructions.
Arrange for her body to be released to the family.
But in between – he stands on the roadside.
Gloves still on.
The air smells of death and wet grass.
A young investigator approaches:
“You were silent the whole time, Kuwait-bey.”
“I wasn’t silent,” he replies.
“I was listening to the earth.”
Entry 15.
That evening, he returns home.
Takes off his coat.
Washes his hands – twice.
Jeanne wraps her arms around him from behind.
He flinches.
She whispers:
“You’re still alive.
Don’t let the dead empty you.”
He replies:
“I just want at least one mother
to bury a body – not a shadow.
With a name.
With earth.
With goodbye.”
Finding a body is not a victory.
It’s a full stop in the silence.
And Prosecutor Kuwait knows:
Tomorrow, there will be another case.
Another silence.
And once again – the earth.
Chapter 4: A Day to Simply Be a Man
Case No. 187 has been passed on to the senior prosecutor.
Trial – in a week.
And for now – a day without reports, without streets wrapped in yellow Do Not Cross tape.
Just running, water, the smell of grilled meat… and a woman he loves.
Morning.
Kuwait runs in circles next to Jeanne.