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MY TRIAL BEGINS

‘Can you believe that guy?’ yelled Ricardo, pointing at the television and banging his fist on the table. ‘When he goes to prison, he’s not going to last the first night. They’ll kill him. Just like they did those rapists.’

‘He’s not going to prison, man. He’s got money. It’s all a show trial. Money buys you a lot of friends.’

‘But he has to go to prison,’ argued Ricardo. ‘He’s already escaped once, so now the whole country is watching. There will be riots if he doesn’t go to prison, at least for a little while until things calm down.’

I disagreed. ‘No way, man. Where’s the forty million dollars he stole? They haven’t found any of it. I say that while he’s still got the money, he can pay his way out.’

‘I still say he’s going to prison.’

‘How much will we bet, then?’ I asked, holding out my hand.

‘Forty million.’

‘OK.’ We shook hands.

‘Wait!’ I said, not letting his hand go. ‘Dollars or bolivianos?’

‘Hey, inglés. You know this is a Bolivian jail,’ Ricardo laughed. ‘Everything is in dollars, remember?’