CHAPTER 19

Miguel and Sam walked into the LAPD police station about an hour later after grabbing a quick breakfast from Starbucks. When they walked into the police station, they were directed up to the precinct's bullpen, where they were met by Johnny and the Detective in charge of the case. Johnny had a couple of stitches and a black eye on his face: clearly he had been in a fight with Miguel's dad. Miguel avoided eye contact with Johnny as the Detective spoke to them.

"So, Mr. Diaz, your father is in custody. As I think you were informed, you are going to have to give a statement, where I'm going to ask you various questions. After that, we will access the situation and formally charge Mr. Diaz. From there, he can either plead guilty or innocent. Guilty would send him straight to jail. Innocent would take things to court. So, Mr. Diaz, if you'd like to come with me, we can get started." The Detective stated. Miguel raised a hand to stop him.

"Um… Could you give me a minute? I need to talk to him." Miguel said, pointing at Johnny. The Detective nodded and Miguel and Johnny walked out of earshot of the rest of the group. Miguel handed Johnny the large travel mug of coffee that was in his hands.

"I heard you had a rough night. Thought you could use this." Miguel murmured. Johnny looked at it and raised an eyebrow. Johnny knew that Miguel knew how much he disliked coffee.

"Coffee?" Johnny asked, shuddering. Miguel chuckled and shook his head.

"It's Coors beer." Miguel replied. "Thought you could use it, but I didn't the police would appreciate you drinking openly around them."

Johnny accepted the travel cup gratefully.

"Thanks, kid." Johnny said, cracking a smile at how much Miguel had changed since he met him. The Miguel he had met a year ago would NEVER have thought about sneaking alcohol into a police station. Johnny's temporary moment of happiness quickly vanished as he remembered what him and Carmen had done behind Miguel's back. "Look, Miguel. I…"

Miguel interrupted him with something completely unexpected. He threw his arms around his sensei and hugged him tightly. Johnny, confused, accepted the hug and hugged his student tightly back.

"Thank you. SO much, Sensei. For all of it. Even if drugging me was a bit cold." Miguel said, joking at the end. Johnny chuckled.

"Well, it was that or I knock you out with my fists so you tell me which one you would have preferred." Johnny replied. Miguel laughed.

"Fair point." He replied,

"So we're good?" Johnny asked. Miguel looked him straight in the eye and nodded.

"Yeah. We're good." Miguel replied. Johnny looked visibly relieved at this. The two of them walked back to where the Detective and Sam were waiting. Miguel nodded at the Detective.

"You ready?" The Detective asked. Miguel nodded.

"Yeah, but can I have her with me?" Miguel asked, slipping his hand in Sam's, and as Sam felt Miguel's hand tremble in hers, she realised how terrified he was about the statement he had to give. She squeezed his hand comfortingly, but the Detective looked unsure.

"We'd prefer if it was a 1 on 1 conversation with just the victim and the cop." The detective said.

"Please. For emotional support." Miguel pleaded. The cop saw the fear in Miguel's eyes and eventually nodded.

"Yeah, okay." The detective relented. Miguel nodded in relief and his hand tightened in Sam's. The two of them were led into a private interrogation room, and the only difference between them and any criminal suspect that previously sat in that room was the fact that they weren't in handcuffs. Miguel and Sam sat opposite a policeman, who placed a recording device in the middle of the table. Miguel was terrified at this point, and it took Sam holding his hand and her arm around him for him to stay calm. Miguel honestly didn't know what he would do in his life without Sam. She was the best thing to ever happen to him, and he was so incredibly lucky to have her in his life.

The first thing that happened was that Miguel had to verbally sign a consent form that his statement would be recorded and would be on the record. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they began the actual Q/A.

"When was the first time your father physically abused you?" The cop asked. Miguel closed his eyes. That night was vividly etched in his memory, and probably would be for eternity.

"Um… I was 9 years old. It was back home in Ecuador. My dad had been drinking. My mom was working late that night so she wasn't home. I was playing with a soccer ball. I accidentally broke a pot plant. My dad stormed over and he hit me across the face."

"With his hand?" The cop asked.

"That time, yeah." Miguel replied.

"But he has used other things before?"

Miguel nodded

"Oh yeah. Definitely." Miguel replied.

"What exactly has he used to physically abuse you?" The cop asked. Miguel chuckled mirthlessly and put his head in his hands as the nightmares came rushing back thick and fast. Once again, Miguel started to squirm around in his seat, and it took Sam's calming words for him to stay calm.

"Um… let's see. He's used his fists and hands obviously. There was a baseball bat. Glass beer bottle. Belt. Brass Knuckles. Mini Screwdriver."

"I'm sorry, mini screwdriver?" The cop asked. Tears formed in Miguel's eyes as he stood up and rolled up his shirt slightly. Sure enough, just above his waist were numerous crossed scars that had clearly been made by a screwdriver. Sam started trembling slightly when she saw the evidence of her boyfriend's torture, but she forced herself to hold it together. For Miguel. Even the cop closed his eyes in pain at the thought of a child abused like that.

"Yeah, pretty gnarly, huh?" Miguel remarked. The cop slowly nodded.

"Yeah, do you mind telling us what happened?"

Miguel took a deep breath and nodded.

"It was when I was 11. In the past, I had had an irrational fear of needles, and my school were getting their mandatory injections done…"

5 years ago…

It was injection day in school - the school forced all of its students to get the country's mandatory vaccines on campus - and it was always Miguel's least favourite day of the year. Even at age 12, Miguel still had an irrational fear of needles. Whenever he even saw one, he began to hyperventilate, and having to get an injection in front of his other classmates would be utterly humiliating for him.

Therefore, Miguel decided to cut classes that day. He came home to an empty house at 4 pm: thankfully, his father was not home from work, and his mom was also still at nursing school. He was extremely lucky that neither were home to hear about how Miguel cut school. The school had called, Miguel had answered pretending to be his dad, and that was supposed to be the end of it. However, he wasn't that lucky.

That night, his father stormed into the house, slamming the door behind him and throwing his toolbox on the ground. Miguel's father was a 'handyman', or at least that was his day-job to cover his gang actions.

"HEY, BOY! GET IN HERE!" His dad shouted. Miguel groaned as he heard his father enter the house, and he slowly walked out into the living room.

"Hey, dad." Miguel murmured.

"So…" His dad scowled at him. "Your principal came to see me at work today. Told me you cut class. Now, why'd you do that, son?"

"Didn't feel like school." Miguel grunted in reply. His father raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Because in the past two years, you have cut class exactly twice, both times on your school's injection day. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a fear of injections." His dad remarked. Miguel's face paled slightly, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"I'm not afraid." Miguel snapped. His father nodded.

"Good. Then let's go get your injection now." His dad replied.

"NO!" Miguel stammered, too quickly. His father grinned sadistically at him.

"I knew it! You are afraid!" His father said, before reaching into his toolbox and pulling out a small screwdriver. "And you know what I saw about fears, don't you?"

"Men don't have fears." Miguel murmured. His father nodded.

"Damn right, they don't. And if they do?"

"You remove the fear." Miguel stammered. His father held the screwdriver aloft and nodded.

"Yup. You REMOVE it." His father agreed, before lunging at Miguel and pinning him to the ground. His father was a massive guy and Miguel was only 12, so he was powerless to fight back. His dad wielded the screwdriver and began to stab holes in Miguel's side, trying to knock Miguel's fear of needles right out of his system.

Back to the present…

"Upside, I no longer have a fear of needles. Downside, I now hate screwdrivers." Miguel concluded. By the end of the story, Sam also had tears in her eyes, and the cop was also close to tears. They couldn't believe Miguel had been abused this way, and that he had kept it a secret from everyone but his mom until now. He didn't want to seem like even more of an outsider when he moved to Reseda so he forced his mom to keep it a secret. Besides, he had assumed he'd never have to see his father again.

"That's horrible. I'm so sorry, son." The cop said. Miguel shrugged.

"It made me into the man I am today." Miguel replied, gruffly, not wanting to elaborate. The cop nodded.

"Okay. So right now, we have him nailed down on child abuse, domestic abuse, aggravated assault, narcotics possession, narcotics dealing. Is there anything we have incorrect, or anything we missed?"

"Um… those all seem about right. There is one more though. He tried to kill me." Miguel stated. He heard Sam's breath hitch in her throat in worry and the cop's eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" The cop asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"I mean he pulled a fucking gun on me, he shot, he missed." Miguel growled. This was his most common recurring nightmare, and he saw it at least once every night.

"Do you mind elaborating, if it's not too difficult?" The cop asked. Miguel glanced sideways at Sam, and put his arm around her, pulling them closer together. He needed her warmth and her comfort if he were going to get through the story. The policeman had to hold back a smile as he saw the couple interact. He had seen many high school couples walk through the doors of the precinct, and he had developed a 6th sense to know if that couple would go all the way and make it, or they would be broken up by the end of high school. The two in front of him would definitely make it. Miguel closed his eyes, took a deep breath and began.

"Well, I was 12, and I had just gotten a B in my Math test…"

4 years ago…

Miguel and his 2 friends had just come back to Miguel's house after school. That day had not been a great one. He had gotten his first B in Math that year, and he knew his father wouldn't be happy. His dad would get angry if he got anything less than an A+, and to get a flat B… his dad would be fuming.

Luckily, his dad wasn't home when his friends walked into the house, so they collapsed in the living room, turning on the TV and playing a game of Mario Kart. They played for several hours as the time flew by. Miguel loved video games as they provided him with a temporary distraction from the hellish life he lived in.

At that moment, one of Miguel's best friends, Isabella, was playing and she was having an incredible run.

"Jake, she's gonna beat your record." Miguel remarked as he watched his friend's score increase and increase.

"Yeah, like I already beat yours." Isabella laughed as she roared across the line in first place. "Ha! Beat that! New high score!"

Suddenly, the door to the house swung open.

"BOY, YOU HOME?!" Miguel heard his dad yell from the other side of the house. Miguel and his two friends leapt off the sofa in alarm. They knew about Miguel's current living situation, but Miguel had made them swear not to tell anyone.

"Oh, crap! You guys have got to go. Get out the back!" Miguel exclaimed, gesturing to the back door. His friends nodded and ran out the back door.

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE RABBIT!" His dad shouted. Miguel slowly walked into the entrance of the house, where his father was standing. Miguel immediately noticed that his father was extremely drunk. Little did Miguel know that his dad had lost his job that morning, so he was already in a foul mood.

"Hey, dad." Miguel mumbled as he entered the room. His dad looked at him and scowled.

"Speak up when I call you." His dad slurred. "So now you're failing out of school?"

"Dad, it was just one B. Let me just…"

"You'd think after last time, you'd have learned something." His dad remarked, taking off his belt and wrapping it around his wrist. Miguel's blood ran cold when he saw it. "But… I guess I went too easy."

"No, sir." Miguel stammered, desperately.

"Shut up!" His dad snapped, drunkenly. "I'm getting real tired of your excuses."

"I'm tired of getting hit." Miguel mumbled under his breath. His dad looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"What's that?" He snapped. "Now you're gonna talk back to me?"

He then lunged at Miguel, and sent a massive backhand at his son's face with his belt still wrapped around his hand. Miguel cried out in pain and stumbled backwards, falling into the back of the wall.

"Talk back now, you little smartass!" His dad laughed evilly as he hit his son. Miguel stared at his father and realised something… his father had absolutely no self-control anymore. The alcohol had broken any moral barriers he had left, and Miguel genuinely thought he might die that night. As Miguel felt his back against the wall, he looked sideways and his eyes widened when he saw his only lifeline… the family rifle!

Miguel grabbed the gun and instinctively pointed it at his dad, cocking it. His dad chuckled, unfazed.

"Ah, well, look at this. Look who's a cowboy." He slurred. "Okay, cowboy. You keep your finger on that trigger, and you pull."

His dad suddenly grabbed the gun and placed it against his own head rather than pushing it away.

"You're not going to go through with it." He whispered. Miguel trembled as his finger curled around the trigger. Eventually, as Miguel did nothing, his dad laughed and slapped the gun away, grabbing it from his son and kicking the weak boy on the floor. Before Miguel could scramble to his feet, his father had the gun trained on him.

"See, I told you. Soft, just like your ma. You ready for this boy? You ready to make your peace with death?" His father snapped.

"NO, DAD! PLEASE! NO!" Miguel begged, but it was no use. Miguel's dad squeezed the trigger, his hands shaking and his eyes twitching from the copious amounts of alcohol he had drank, and Miguel finally heard a loud BANG!

However, somehow, Miguel didn't feel the gunshot. Instead, he felt the floorboard next to him erupt into splinters as the bullet landed next to him. THANK GOD! His father was so drunk that he missed the shot. His father chuckled.

"You got lucky there, son. I guess I'll try again tomorrow." His dad slurred, before stumbling into his room for the night to sleep off the alcohol…

Back to present day…

"My mom came home shortly after and saw me there. That's when she finally realised enough was enough, and we fled the country the next morning before he woke up, not even taking any luggage at all."

At the end of the story, both Sam and the policeman were tearing up at the horrific tale, and Sam clung onto her boyfriend like a vice. Surprisingly, Miguel wasn't crying at this point. He was instead… numb to the pain, which was in a way, a lot worse. Finally, the policeman spoke.

"Oh, my God. Um… I am truly, truly sorry you had to go through that. The State of L.A would almost definitely be willing to pay for whatever psychological counselling needs you might have. Hopefully your testimony today will help prevent anyone else going through what you went through in the hands of that wicked man."

"Yeah, I hope so too. So what now?" Miguel asked. The policeman nodded.

"Well, we have all of the charges confirmed now. He's definitely facing life without parole for what he did." The cop said. "Like I said before, if he pleads guilty, he goes straight to jail. If he pleads innocent, he goes to court, but he's kind of screwed there. He's not going to get away with an insanity plea so he's cooked either way. It's in his best interest to just plead guilty and avoid paying for lawyers. Thank you so much for giving this statement. I think we're done with your services for now. We'll call you in the next day or so when your dad's decided whether he's pleading innocent or guilty."

Miguel nodded and stood up, and him and Sam walked out of the room. Once they were out, Miguel grabbed Sam and pulled her into an extremely tight hug.

"Thank you so much for being there, Sam. I couldn't have done this without you." Miguel murmured. Sam clutched him even tighter. She couldn't believe how much Miguel had omitted about his past. How he got out of bed was a miracle to her. He was by far the strongest person Sam knew.

"I love you so much." Sam whispered, tears prickling in her eyes. "And know that if you ever want to talk about any of this…"

"Thanks, Sam, but I think I just want to go home and take my mind off of this until I get the call with the verdict."

Sam nodded and took his hand.

"Okay. Let's go."

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

For 24 hours, Miguel heard nothing from the police. It was scarily silent. Miguel hoped and prayed that everything would soon be over, but he needed closure on the situation for that to happen, and for that, he needed to find out if his father was pleading guilty or not.

He was lying in his bed late the next night when suddenly, his phone rang. Miguel leapt out of his bed and grabbed it, answering it immediately.

"Hello?" Miguel asked.

"Mr. Diaz? It's Detective Johnson from the LAPD. I'm calling about your father's case." He said. Miguel's hands started shaking and he immediately started sweating.

"Well, what's the verdict?" He asked.

Five minutes later, Miguel walked out of his room, his face white in shock and his hands still trembling. Johnny was in the living room when Miguel walked out. Miguel had tears in his eyes and Johnny leapt to his feet, concerned. Normally, Johnny would merely tell Miguel to stop being a pussy and man up, but after all of the shit that Johnny had learned his dad had put his son through, Johnny had made a vow to start being kinder to Miguel.

"Kid, you okay?" Johnny asked.

"The… the police called. With my dad's plea." Miguel stammered. Johnny's eyes widened.

"Well?" Johnny asked. Miguel pulled his sensei into a long hug before letting go and telling him the verdict.

"He's pleading guilty." Miguel murmured. Johnny let out a sigh of relief and he hugged his student in delight.

"He's pleading guilty! Thank God! This is finally over!" Johnny exclaimed, ecstatically. Miguel nodded as he hugged his sensei, feeling infinitely better than he had in two weeks.

"Yeah. It's all finally over…"