Silent | HS

08 - 1998

TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter is mainly focused on sexual assault/pedophelia. you should NOT read if you don't think you can handle it, you matter way more to me than any of these chapters. let me know if you need a chapter summary. love love you <3

1998.
Ellie Smith.

"Are you telling me you won't arrest him?"

"I'm not saying we won't, Miss Gomez," The police officer tries hard to remain calm, despite the difficult circumstances and situation they were forced into.  "I'm saying there's not enough evidence to process this any further right now—"

"Not enough evidence?" The mother slams her hand down against the metal table, scoffing in disbelief and anger on her daughter's behalf,  "Is my daughter's voice not enough? The drawings in her journal? What else do you need from us to tell you that she—" she begins to feel tears brink under her waterline, shaking her head to try and compose herself for her scared daughter's sake.  But it was hard.  Almost impossible.  "You don't need to me repeat the words.  You know what happened to her."

The police officer knew what happened to the little girl — in fact, if she didn't physically need evidence to prove what happened, she would have him behind bars quicker than the blink of an eye.   She knew first hand how it felt to feel like you're being dismissed, and she hated to be the one to give the news, to make the mother and daughter have no justice.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," she sighed helplessly, "But I cannot put someone who could be innocent in jail.  I need evidence and you know that, Miss—"

"My eight year old daughter was trying to go to school!" Her frustration got the better of her,  "Eight years old! No child should have to fear walking to school because a man— a monster like him can't seem to comprehend that—"

"Miss Gomez, please try and remain calm," the police officer was beginning to not only feel hopeless, but guilty too. She wanted to give the mother all the answers she wanted, and she desperately hoped internally that she would be able to one day. However — the circumstances were undeniable at this point. "I'm trying everything in my power to give your daughter justice, please don't underestimate the lengths me and my team will go to prove he's done this."

"She doesn't eat," the mother's voice cracked, refusing to meet her daughters gaze, "She refuses to leave the house and I—I don't know how to tell her that it wasn't her fault. She doesn't even understand what happened, she just knows that she didn't like it and doesn't want it to happen again,"

"When she got home from school, I knew something was up. She always bursts through the doors with a smile on her face but that day... she couldn't stop crying and I didn't know what to do and I—I will never forgive myself for not being there. You need to help us—!"

"I feel like you're undermining the information we've gathered from your daughters memory, miss," the police officer leans her elbows on the metal table, resting her chin on her hand,  "He was wearing a blue denim jacket, black skinny jeans, white sneakers with mud on the laces, and his accent was Australian.  Your daughter was seen on CCTV walking out of an alley at 9:34am, her skirt loose and cuts diagonally shaped on her wrist.  You said your daughter claims he stole her bracelet she made at summer camp, correct?"

The mother was speechless.  She didn't realise the police had gathered mountains worth of information based solely off her daughter's hazy memory and description.   She had personal issues with the police in the past, so she didn't want to get her hopes up again. 

However, the police officer sitting before them looked determined to give the daughter the justice she deserved.   Because while she's young now, she won't be forever.  She'll understand what happened to her when she grows older, and her memory may be restored. They need to prepare for that day.

"I—um—" she cleared her throat,  "Correct."

"We need more time." The officer stated calmly, knowing that time was limited when it comes to her job. She wasn't able to drop everything and work on this case — and she wasn't even sure if this would develop into a case. "You need to understand the importance of what we're trying to find. The case needs to be built, and we can't build it without enough evidence—"

"She doesn't have time!" The frustration was back. Though, it was more intense than before. Her heart shatters to the floor, and she didn't know how to pick the broken pieces back up without destroying herself, "She doesn't have the choice to just put this to the side and think about it whenever she wants! This is with her for life, Officer! She's growing fast, she's going to understand it more and she won't know how to cope with the trauma. Promise me you'll do something, please—"

The one rule about being in the police force is to never make promises.

Don't make promises you can't keep.

Don't give a victim hope because it could be destroyed within seconds.

Promises symbolise justice in the police force. It means without a doubt that justice will be served one way or another — and as much as the officer wanted to pour promises all over the little girl, she wasn't capable of doing so.

And this was the part of the job she hated.

"I can't make you any promises—"

"Unbelievable—!"

"But," she cut the mother off shortly, "I can promise you I will not rest until something is done. I will work day and night to find the correct evidence and I will send every officer from every unit in the state on a search hunt for the man your daughter has described. Please remember that I am on your side, I want justice for your daughter just as much as you do, Miss Gomez."

The mother feels herself calm down, enough that she could release a sigh and nod her head. She was complying with the officer finally, resting her hand atop of her daughter's shoulder and giving her a gentle smile.

"Thank you," she sighed, voice breaking, "What you do is amazing and I know it will be hard. Your commitment doesn't go unnoticed, officer. I hope your family reminds you of your admirable dedication."

The officer lets out a small chuckle, "Believe me, they do," she stood up, collecting the folder and resting it under her armpit, "My 7 year old son is determined he'll be an officer by the time he's 20.  This job isn't all bad, you know? It's very rewarding sometimes."

"I'm sure his dreams will come true."

They didn't exchange any words apart from goodbyes after that.  The little girl felt overwhelmed with all the shouting, but she was just too young to understand that the shouting wasn't bad.  The shouting proves the care they have for the little girl. 

And as they exit the station, hand in hand, the mother can't help but question the justice her daughter deserved.

If only she knew justice would never be served — and when it was, it was too late.

//

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