Chapter 17: Villanueva moves his first piece in the court

Investigative Court number 7 smelled of damp paper and poorly concealed ambition. Héctor Villanueva arrived ten minutes before anyone else, with a blue folder under his arm and the expression of someone who already knows the verdict because he himself wrote it.

Díaz watched from the witness stand while the lawyer arranged his documents on the defense table with almost liturgical parsimony. There was something surgical in each gesture: the adjustment of the calf, the exact angle at which he deposited the expert report before the court clerk.

A man who does not improvise. A man who has been preparing this morning for weeks.

When Judge Carrasco opened the preliminary hearing, Villanueva took the floor even before being told to do so. "With the permission of the court," he said, and his voice had the texture of polished marble, "the defense presents an expert report signed by Dr. Ernesto Fuentes, a specialist in clinical pharmacology, which establishes with a degree of certainty of eighty-seven percent that the death of Julián Costa Montes was a direct consequence of serious medical negligence attributable to Dr. Clara García, who prescribed Cardietil outside of authorized protocol and without hospital supervision." The silence lasted exactly three seconds.

Then came the murmur. Díaz squeezed the pen until his knuckles turned white.

The report omitted the SIM card. He omitted the fingerprints on the bottle of effervescent salts.

He built impeccable architecture on an emptied floor. When it was his turn to testify, the inspector spoke slowly, measuring each word like someone deactivating a device: «The report that the defense has just presented does not mention in any of its forty-two pages the analysis of the SIM card recovered in the Villa, nor the fingerprint result of the bottle involved in the administration of the salts.

"Both pieces of evidence have been in the police report for three weeks and were notified to all parties." Villanueva did not blink. He made a note in his notebook in small, neat handwriting.

Judge Carrasco took off his glasses and cleaned them with a slow movement, a sign—the veteran officials knew—that he was buying time to think. «An independent expert is ordered on the physical evidence not contemplated in the report presented.

"The hearing is suspended until further notice." A technical victory. But Díaz knew the times of media damage: the truth travels by commuter train; the lie, on AVE.

At three in the afternoon, the headlines were already circulating: UNLICENSED DOCTOR WOULD HAVE CAUSED THE DEATH OF THE BUSINESSMAN. Clara's photograph—taken as she left her office weeks ago—occupied half the screen.

At four fifteen, Marta's cell phone received a message from Elena: «Video call. Now.

Four." Valentina appeared first, still wearing her coat. Then Clara, with dry eyes and a stillness that was more dangerous than crying.

Marta shared the screen and showed the headlines without commenting on them: the images spoke for themselves. It was Clara who broke the silence, and she did so without her voice shaking: «Villanueva wants me to defend myself so that no one is left looking at him.

"I'm not going to give him that gift." Elena nodded from the darkness of her apartment, the flamenco painting still leaning against the wall behind her. "We went in together," she said.

Not as a question. Nobody responded with words.

The four cameras turned on in the darkness of four different floors in Madrid were sufficient response. Villanueva had moved his first chip.

The four women had just decided that they would play on the same board.

Lies: The Silence of the Villa

Lies: The Silence of the Villa