Bad sleep, bad dream, I would be in the process of bombing one of the watchmen. Whether or not the evidence was on thin ice was enough to accuse me. So I was charged, along with other people: not to say the whole truth, by trying to make statements, to divert suspicion on other people or events, to misbehave with me at the time as a police officer, etc.
Iam in the meantime retired police officer / gendarme. I sit at home waiting for my trial, not from morning till evening, because, I even go through the garden looking after my shallots, but have always thought in the back: you get the process done! That lasts almost exactly the month for 5 whole years. Why so long?
Is there a system in place for me, or the other accuser, to break through the security or to crumble the nerves, so that I can end up with all the truth? Or is it not simply normal for Justice to take so long to move forward? Ex: 5 years is a long day! At that time, one can be called sick, even by Peter to the eternal gate! After all, different witnesses, different suspects have started their last big journey!
W Well, there is hope! Justice is slow, but effective. After almost 5 years of waiting, there is a new moment: I, as a prosecutor, have been in the press waiting for more people to be sued! They have fixed their appointment with the investigating judge, it is only a matter of weeks. Children are already standing in the Casperl theater: these people are about to make early investigators, including one, with an excellent reputation. Boss, the dead development!
I got my 5 year wait as told down, and am waiting for the next one! I’m going to look at my shallots and think about the new “possible suspects”. Will they even be freaked out to my person? What questions are these? What should they tell me about it? What do they still know from the time of the bombings? Doesn’t someone start to get a little dizzy in the head and mix things up? I probably don’t even get it. 5 more years?
My cauchemar is almost impossible to cope with! The whole people pointing fingers at me, laughing at me, doing the laps and saying, with their fingers crossed, “Don’t do anything out of it. We’ll find out the truth here. After all, the names of the bumblebees will never be known ”! So but System, Stratego à la GLADIO?
I wake up and go look for my shallots early in the morning. No more there! Someone had snatched them and taken them. There wasn’t anyone …
