A thick cloud of dust wafted through the living room when that stout man embraced Don Puncio and patted him on the back to show his regret. And it is that that lead gray suit Don Puncio only used it in the wakes and in that neighborhood, nobody knows the reason, had enough time that nobody died. And it is not that he had not died friends, because of the litter of boys who scampered through the streets of La Pastora back in the thirties in reality there were very few left, but Don Puncio only attended if the wake was going to be in Caracas, because he said that his arthritis no longer allowed him many freedoms. Even as a joke, he used to boast that he was one of the only people who did not have a single enemy, and when they asked him what the secret was, he answered that there was no such secret, but that they were all dead.
Those who were arriving looked for the mother and grandmother of the unfortunate, but also offered their condolences to Don Puncio, some because they knew that he was the only one who had seen the faces of the policemen who had killed the boy who was inside. of the sealed urn, or because there were many who believed that he was a relative of Oropeza.
Death with sheet metal. That afternoon, when the officials arrived, Don Puncio was sitting on the porch of his house, as he used to do every day because he loved to bathe in the afternoon breeze. He saw them and detailed them one by one, but not because he suspected anything abnormal, but because as a young man he had worked as a journalist and had the skill.
He noticed that one of the policemen could not see his face, no matter how hard he looked. It was as if the uniform will walk without a body inside. Don Puncio made the sign of the cross and prayed something in a low voice. Since then he has not lost sight of them.
Misfortune. Kleiber was watching television, while his relatives were gathered. That afternoon an aunt with her niece had visited them. They started to make dinner and since there were no onions and tomatoes, they sent Kleiber, who was on shores, because at night he was going to play basketball on the court.
He went out and greeted a neighbor who smiled at him and waved goodbye. He came to the cellar and apart from buying onions and tomatoes, he took a malt. A motorized went through the street and played the bugle to a girl of about fifteen years who walked around the place and wearing short pants and a very short blouse.
The boy saw when the police officers were coming down. In his twenties it was the second time he saw them in the neighborhood, because in Sabana del Blanco (La Pastora) almost no criminal acts occur and is considered one of the healthiest sectors of the parish.
He stared at them because Kleiber Alejandro always wanted to be a policeman. In fact, this year I had presented some tests because I wanted to join the Sebin. He had already told his grandmother Regina, with whom he had lived since he was a child, that if that was given, he would leave his university studies in Unefa and his work in the laboratory.
One of the policemen pulled out his gun and shouted: "Hey, you, catire, stand there, you hit me against the wall, raise your hands". Kleiber did not understand, but he did as he was told. They hit him twice and pulled him by the hair. A shot broke the stillness of the night. The boy fell badly wounded to the floor. Grandma peeked out on the second floor of the house and started screaming desperately. The boy shouted that he was fine, that nothing had happened to him. The woman ran down and tried to leave. In that instant, he looked at the faceless official with the smoking gun still in his hands. They did not let her go out and one of the agents, a thick, dark man with the last name Garcia, took the keys and left them locked up. The woman went back up and her grandson was not lying on the sidewalk. Numerous shots rang with rage. "What a pod, we are wrong," was heard to say to one of the officials.
The area was filled with police officers because the officers asked for reinforcements because they were being shot, but just as they arrived they left, perhaps because they realized that there was an irregular procedure.
The neighbors went out to protest and the police beat, pushed and threatened several of them. They became furious when they learned that they had killed Kleiber and assured everyone that the boy was an athlete, student, worker and healthy.
Impunity. The agents asserted that they would investigate the event to its ultimate consequences, began to collect all the bullet casings and took them away. More never returned.
Aunt Felipa told me once that when the scientific police never returns to a place where a criminal act has occurred, it is an unequivocal sign that the case was filed and that no one is investigating or investigating, because an investigation requires a search possible witnesses, planimetry, interrogations, DTA test, luminol test, crime reconstruction, etc.
At the wake, Don Puncio recalled that that day had happened an early roll with a boy there who is malandrito and that is also catire, because he had beaten a girl who seems to be a relative of a police officer and Judicial officials They arrived at the site to look for that catire, who disappeared from the urbanization since the day of the events.
Justice. Kleiber Alejandro Ramírez Ramírez was only 20 years old and had a brother of 18. His parents had separated and they went to live since they were little with their paternal grandmother, Regina, who was responsible for their upbringing. When he arrived at the hospital, he did not present a single shot, but three, the family said.
"I call the Attorney General to order the investigation of my grandson's case. He was a healthy boy, with goals and aspirations, sportsman, educated, worked in a laboratory in La Hoyada, studied in Unefa, wanted to be a policeman. It's not fair that they killed me, "Regina said, all bathed in tears.