“Sure,” he replies.
Then he turns the page. “And this,” he says, “is your nephew’s tab. For alcohol. For ‘friends.’ Charged under ‘campaign expenses.’”
Arnaldo’s face flushes.
“That’s—” he starts.
Raimundo lifts another paper.
“And this is the security footage request you filed,” he says.
He looks directly at Arnaldo. “Because you wanted my cameras to ‘lose’ a clip from three months ago.”
The room goes colder.
Because now this isn’t about unpaid bills.
This is about crime.
Helena’s eyes widen.
“What clip?” she whispers.
Raimundo’s gaze shifts toward the bathroom hallway.
“A clip of your son and his friends cornering a waitress,” Raimundo says, voice low.
The band stops completely.
Someone gasps.
A woman’s hand flies to her mouth.
The waitress in question, standing near the back, starts shaking.
Arnaldo barks, “That’s a lie!”
Raimundo shakes his head once.
“No,” he says.
“It’s on my server.”
He looks at Djalma. “Play it.”
Djalma hesitates, terrified.
Then he nods and moves to the screen system.
Arnaldo lunges forward, shouting, but two security guards step in and block him.
The screen flickers.
Footage appears: Topete and his friends in a hallway, laughing, blocking a young waitress, hands too close, voices too bold.
Her face is panicked. She tries to slip away.
The room erupts, not in laughter now, but in disgusted murmurs.
Arnaldo’s face turns purple.
Raimundo closes the binder and looks at everyone.
“You laughed at my boots,” he says quietly.
“But you didn’t laugh at this.”
The silence that follows is thick.
It’s the silence of people realizing they’ve been cheering for the wrong side.
Helena steps forward, voice steady.
“You’re going to apologize,” she says, staring at Topete.
Topete’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Raimundo raises a hand.
“Apologies are easy,” he says.
“Accountability is harder.”
He nods to his security. “Call the police.”
Arnaldo explodes.
“You can’t do that!” he roars. “Do you know who I am?”
Raimundo’s eyes are calm, almost bored.
“I know exactly who you are,” he replies.
“And tonight, everyone else does too.”
The cops arrive fast, because in small towns, power travels quickly.
But so does embarrassment.
Arnaldo tries to talk his way out, but the video doesn’t care about speeches.
Topete and his friends are taken aside for statements.
The waitress is escorted to a private room, offered support, a lawyer, and a safe ride home.
Raimundo doesn’t ask for applause.
He just makes sure the right people are protected.
Later, when the crowd thins and the lights dim, you sit outside with Helena on the steps of the Lumiar.
The night air is cooler, and the distant sound of crickets feels like a reset button.
Helena studies you like she’s trying to find the line between the cowboy and the owner.
“Why hide?” she asks softly.
Raimundo looks down at his boots, then back at her.
“Because I needed to know,” he says.
“Who’s kind when there’s nothing to gain.”
Helena nods slowly.
“And what did you learn?” she asks.
