When the door opened, the Warden wasn’t alone; the local chaplain and several veteran guards were with him. He explained that Elias had passed away peacefully in his sleep just one hour after his mother left. The man who had been a ball of rage for years died in total silence.
The Warden looked at the floor, then back at me, his expression unreadable. “You broke every rule we have, Rossi,” he said, tossing a folder onto the table. “But the chaplain tells me you did more for justice in one night than we’ve done in a decade.”
I didn’t lose my badge, though I served a month-long suspension without pay. Today, I still walk those halls, but the inmates look at me differently now. They know that even in a place built of stone and iron, there is still room for a single act of mercy.