The clock read 6:37 a.m. when Andrés Herrera slammed the door of his small apartment in the working-class neighborhood.
His eyes were puffy from lack of sleep, and his hands trembled from endlessly replaying the situation.
He clutched a cheap briefcase that held his only hope:a USB drive with a video that, he believed, could change everything.
He had to be at the downtown courthouse by 7:30.
He couldn’t be late.
Not again.
His white Tsuru, now more tape than car, roared to life with a whine as it started.
He quickly crossed himself, as he did every morning, and headed south.
The traffic was heavy, as if the city knew it couldn’t let him down that day.
As he rounded a curve on a side street, Andrés saw a woman standing next to a gray sedan with its trunk open and a spare tire lying on the ground. Her back was to him.
Clearly frustrated, she waved her arms desperately, and her cell phone wasn’t working.
Andrés braked without hesitation.
His instinct was stronger than his anxiety.
“Do you need help, ma’am?” he asked, rolling down the window.
The woman turned around: dark-haired, slender, with her hair pulled back and eyes that held a mixture of firmness and a hint of anguish.
She didn’t look older than him, though she carried herself with the air of someone accustomed to being in control.
“Yes, please.
I got a flat tire and I don’t have the strength to change it.
I’m running terribly late.”
Andrés parked without hesitation, took his jack from the trunk, and crouched down beside the woman’s car.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be rolling again in 10 minutes.”
She didn’t say much while he worked, just watched him, almost studying him.
Andrés, for his part, avoided eye contact.
He felt time breathing down his neck, but there was something about helping her that brought him peace, as if the universe were offering him a reprieve.
“Do you have an important appointment?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes, ma’am, very important.
And you?”
“Me too, first time in a new job and I’m already late.
How embarrassing!”
Andrés smiled without looking up.
“Sometimes days that start badly end well, or at least that’s what I want to believe.”
When he finished adjusting the tire, he wiped his hands with a dirty rag and looked back at her.
The woman stared at him for a second too long.
“Thank you.
What’s your name?”
“Andrés, Andrés Herrera.”
“Thank you, Andrés.
I don’t know what I would have done without you, since I was late, just like me.”
He laughed nervously.
“Go on, go now and good luck in your new job.”
The woman smiled at him, got into her car, and disappeared among the other vehicles.
Andrés got into his own without noticing that in his haste, his small USB drive had slipped out of his briefcase’s inside pocket and landed on the passenger seat of the other car.
It was 7:42 when Andrés rushed through the door of Civil Court Number Five.
His shirt was soaked with sweat, and his briefcase looked like it was about to fall apart from all the jostling.
A guard directed him to courtroom 2B.
The hallway seemed endless.
Each step was a heartbeat, each door a threat.
He entered the courtroom, and the first thing he noticed was the lawyer Salgado.
Expensive suit, venomous smile, and the look of someone who already feels like he’s won.
Beside him sat the clerk, Paula Aguilar, dressed simply, but with eyes as cold as ice.
And then he saw her sitting at the front in a black robe, her expression solemn: the judge, the same woman from the tire incident.
Andrés’ blood ran cold.
For a second he thought it was exhaustion playing a cruel trick on him. But no. There was no doubt. The woman from the car, the one with the flat tire, the same one he had helped minutes before… was now sitting on the dais, wearing a black robe, surveying the courtroom with authority.
The judge.
The person who would decide if he lost everything… or if he still had a chance.
She recognized it too.
It was barely a blink, a slight tension in the serious face she wore, but Andrés noticed it. Their eyes met for a second that felt too long.
Then she resumed her professional demeanor.
—Let’s proceed—he said in a firm voice—. Case number 2487/25. Aguilar against Herrera. Labor lawsuit for justified dismissal and claim for damages.
Andrés swallowed and took a seat next to his court-appointed lawyer, an older man named Licenciado Rojas, who seemed more tired than interested.
“You’re late,” Rojas whispered. “Again.”
—I know… but…
Andrés opened his briefcase to take out the USB drive.
And then he felt the emptiness.
He checked again.
Then another one.
Then he began to search desperately.
Papers. Invoices. Copies. Photographs. Everything was there… except the memory.
His heart began to beat in his ears.
It couldn’t be.
I couldn’t.
It was their only proof.
The video clearly showed Paula Aguilar and lawyer Salgado falsifying documents and altering records to blame him for an embezzlement he never committed.
That video was their salvation.
And he wasn’t there.
Cold sweat ran down his back.
“Sir…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t find the proof.”
Rojas looked at him with annoyance.
-That?
—The USB drive… isn’t here.
The lawyer closed his eyes in resignation.
—Then we’re lost.
Salgado was already smiling at the front.
Paula kept her gaze lowered, but her lips formed an almost imperceptible smile.
The judge reviewed the file.
—Does the defendant present additional evidence?
Rojas sighed.
—Your Honor… no.
The hammer of fate seemed about to fall.
And then…
The courthouse door opened.
Everyone turned around.
A secretary rushed in, walked over to the judge, and handed her something wrapped in a handkerchief.
Andrés felt a blow to his chest.
It was his USB drive.
The judge observed her for a few seconds and then looked directly at Andrés.
“Before we begin the hearing,” he said, “I need to make a clarification.”
The room fell silent.
—This morning I had a car accident. A flat tire left me stranded and at risk of being late for my first day as the presiding judge of this court.
Some murmurs rippled through the room.
Salgado frowned.
—A citizen stopped to help me without asking for anything in return. Thanks to him, I’m here on time to fulfill my duty.
Andrés felt like his heart was going to explode.
The judge picked up the USB drive.
—That citizen… is Mr. Andrés Herrera.
The room erupted in murmurs.
Paula raised her head, alarmed.
Salgado lost his smile.
The judge continued:
—When I checked my vehicle, I found this device on the passenger seat. I assumed it belonged to Mr. Herrera and, before starting the hearing, I ordered it to be checked to see if it contained any information relevant to the case.
Salgado got up immediately.
—I object, Your Honor! That’s irregular!
She looked at him coldly.
—Please sit down, attorney. The law allows for the admission of relevant evidence when it is presented before sentencing. And believe me… this is relevant.
The judge looked at the secretary.
—Project the content.
The courtroom screen lit up.
And then the video appeared.
A hidden camera was recording Paula Aguilar’s office.
It was clear how she was altering accounting documents while talking to Salgado.
“Herrera is going to have to deal with this,” Paula said in the video. “Nobody is going to believe him.”
“Perfect,” Salgado replied. “That way we can get it out and keep the project money.”
The room was in shock.
Some attendees stood up.
Rojas opened his mouth in surprise.
Andrés could barely breathe.
