A few days later, an official-looking letter arrived. It was from the Department of Justice. The prosecutor handling the Alcantara and Vega case was formally inviting me to give a victim impact statement at the pre-trial hearing. My testimony, the letter said, would help establish the pattern of intimidation and the emotional toll on the community.
I held the paper, my hands trembling. A victim impact statement. The words felt heavy, final. It meant standing in a courtroom, under oath, and looking at Arturo Vega. It meant reliving it all in the coldest, most clinical setting imaginable. Part of me wanted to hide, to let the documents speak for themselves. But another part, a stronger part forged in the fires of the past year, knew I had to do it. For Luna, who couldn't speak for herself. For Miguel Reyes. For the town they had terrorized. My fear was a small price to pay for adding one more stone to the wall of justice being built around them.