The Love Letters Of Cell 247

They said a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets... Then what is that of a Man?

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February 14, 1971

The judge brought his gavel down.

A sentence of life imprisonment without the possibility of a parole is the sentence given to the accused. The man smiled, he had twenty seven years of a torturous life, so, he has no qualms to live the rest of it in jail.

The woman in a pink frilly dress sitting on the prosecution side hugged both her kids towards her chest.

She keeps staring at the man who had not made a single eye contact with her through out the trial. A man who voluntarily confessed to the murder of the woman's husband. He was found at the crime scene, drenched in her husband's blood. When the police came, he held out his hand and said "I was drunk and when I came to, I have killed him."

She can't help but wonder, why did he do such a thing? Why didn't he say a word to protect himself? He all but served his ass to the authorities.

When the guards took his arm and bound it in cuffs, he finally turned towards her, smiled and bowed his head.

His actions confused Maria. Did he deserve the punishment? She would argue differently. But, she don't know this man, so Maria left the court house with her two children, ready to start a new life. She thought it will be the last time she will ever think of the man.

Until........

Present Day

Police officer, Mark Salazar, started his day just as he always did. He rose from their bed, walked up to his children's room, checked on them and went straight to the bathroom.

And when he descended from the second floor, his wife is already in the kitchen, waiting for him to have his breakfast. The kids have risen and his wife, as always, is too busy with their toddler, that she normally ends up unable to have breakfast herself.

That morning, he kissed his wife goodbye, headed for his car and drove to his workplace, ignorant of the emotional roller-coaster he and his co-workers are about to face.

The San Fernando Correctional Facility is a maximum security prison that holds many notorious gang leaders, drug Lords, murderers, rapist and just about any fellon who had committed a grave crime. It is strategically located away from any subdivisions or local housing communities in the City. It is a four storey, doble building complex connected by a narrow tunnel on the ground level. A twenty-five feet wall with barb wires surrounds the entire prison, accompanied by guard posts on atleast every five meters of the entire vicinity, to keep its prisoners from escaping, making the prison a perfect place to hold even convicted influential officials. It has been standing since 1980 and managed to survive due to the constant renovations done to it, everytime a new President comes to office.

When PO1 Salazar timed in, he immediately received a playful punch on the side by Harold Sarmiento. A veteran officer of the San Fernando prison.

"Hey bud, you ready for another day?" Harold asked while locking his left arm on the young man's shoulder.

"Yah, just hope there are no riots today!" Salazar answered whilst checking the lunch box his wife prepared for him the night before.

"Well would you look at that, a full course meal eh!" his senior said teasingly, when his box opened to a well cooked chicken afritada with rice, a piece of apple, a side dish made up of steamed broccoli with butter and a slice of pudding.

Mark smiled and shoved his lunch box inside his locker. "Alright, let's wake them up!" another officer yelled as Mark and six other cops proceeded to the west wing of the building.

The bell rang, a familiar sound that every inmate learned to wait for, during their waking hours. The clacking sound of police baton on metal bars echoed through out the floor.

"Alright animals, rise and shine!" Harold yelled, as he walked by one prison cell to another. Mark tagged behind him along with four others. The second floor of the west wing is their post. They are responsible for the inmate's morning check and count.

The cell doors automatically opened and immediately, inmates in an orange jumpsuit came out of each. They aligned themselves to their cell door while waiting for the most dreaded head count. If one inmate happened to be missing, they will all suffer the consequences.

1.2.3...the count has begun, filling the entire floor with rough voices and excited tones, ready to leave their small cell to join the rest of the inmates inside the prison food court. But when it came for inmate 47 the count has stopped. Harold immediately called out to him but was answered with silence, followed by murmurs and long sighs from prisoners who are desperately waiting to have their breakfast.

"47, come out, don't make me come in there and kick your ass old man." Harold yelled. Still, he is answered with silence. The inmate beside 247 decided to step out of line and took a peek inside the cell.

"He is inside, hey 47!" The man yelled, but the body on the cot did not move an inch.

Harold signaled for Mark to follow him and as per protocol, he took out his stung gun and baton, then walked behind his senior.

When Harold and Mark arrived in front of cell 247. They slowly entered with their baton raised above their head and pulled off the blanket covering the body on the bed. What greeted them is an open eyed, mouth agaped face. His pale body and lack of chest movement did not need anymore confirmation for life. The prisoner in cell 247 is dead.

After an hour, the inmates are ushered to the food court and prisoner 247's body was immediately removed and sent to the morgue for autopsy.

Following a well established rule, Mark and two other guards checked 247's cell for any foul play or hidden weapons, not to mention drugs. He was perhaps an old man, and had always been a silent prisoner, but one can never be too careful.

Everything looked normal, except when one guard pulled up the bedding and found what looks like a big brown envelope. Mark signaled for the guard to be careful. Pipe bombs are also common in the prison cells. Though he found it intriguing, how the prisoners even managed to create some.

"Pick it up slowly" Mark commanded.

The other guard bent down and carefully picked up the brown envelope, raised it in the air and said "Too light to be a weapon or a bomb."

"Drugs?" Mark asked. His two companions shrugged their shoulders to indicate their lack of clue. So, Mark took the envelope and opened it.

"What's inside" both man asked.

Mark raised an eyebrow and said "Letters, tons of it."

Harold appeared behind them arching an eyebrow. "What in Mary's name are those?" he asked while taking the envelope from Mark's hand.

"I don't remember 247 ever receiving any letter, hell, I don't remember him sending any." Harold argued while skimming through the numerous letters inside the envelope.

"Maria, who is Maria? One guard asked.

"Family perhaps" Mark answered as he took one of the letters.

"Don't think so, this guy has been here for 40 years and he spent 10 more in another prison, before he was sent to San Fernando. He is one of the pioneering prisoners of this place." Harold murmured.

"Well, let's get this to the warden and see what he has to say" officer Sarmiento suggested as the four of them left the confines of cell 247.

9:00A.M

Mark and Harold walked up to the warden's office, carrying with them the pile of letters found inside 247's cell.

They were immediately asked to enter the office when the warden's secretary noticed them emerging from the stairs. "The warden is expecting you" she said softly while throwing a knowing look in Mark's direction.

Melinda is a 21 year old female who began working in the San Fernando Correctional at thesame time as Mark. They spent a lot of time during their one month briefing and training as part of the maximum security prison. They did have a bit of connection but Mark never went past kissing, because he knew it was wrong. He is a married man.

Melinda accepted it when he broke off all communications between them. That was a few months ago. His wife never suspected anything, how could she? She is always busy with the kids. She used to check his phone during their first year of marriage, but when their first born came, she stopped and focused on household chores, cooking and a bunch of things that Mark believes she can easily manage and can still give him some time. Now with their eight year anniversary coming up, Mark wonders if she even have time to celebrate with him.

Mark and his senior entered the office and was immediately greeted with the smell of tobacco and brewed coffee. The warden, Mr. Protacio Carbonell have been running the prison for three decades. He is a good warden. Fair and just to his employees and the inmates as well. Rumor has it, he was once a convicted fellow himself. But those stories never had any evidence to back them up.

"So, what's the deal with 247?" the warden asked.

Harold walked up to the warden and gave the letters. Protacio immediately raised an eyebrow, eyeing them with curiosity.

"We found this inside his cell." Harold answered.

The warden flipped through the letters but didn't bother reading them. What he did, was count how many letters were there. When he was done, he gently laid it on his desk.

Mark and his senior watched how the warden walk up to his office window, and despite the air-conditioning, he draw open the curtain, then proceeded to open the panoramic window of his office. He took a deep breath, before walking back to his desk, lit another tobacco and went back to the window.

Mark and Harold eyed each other, both confused at the weirdness of their warden's behaviour.

"Do you know why that man was imprisoned?" he asked, turning his head to face the two guards standing in the middle of his office.

Mark and Harold shook their head in unison.

"Murder, he was given a life sentence without the possibility of parole. He had lived his life behind bars for fifty years" the warden explained.

Mark and Harold remained silent, wondering why their warden suddenly decided to give them a prisoner 101 about the inmate in 247.

"When I first became the warden of this prison. His case is one of those that caught my attention. His trial lasted only five days. According to his records, he was found in the scene, drenched in the victim's blood and holding a knife. He immediately confessed to the crime. Pleaded guilty and that was it."

"Why are you telling us this?" Harold questioned, unable to comprehend why the warden who would usually brush off an inmate's death as something along the lines of (that's life) but now, he seems to give too much attention to 247.

The warden walked towards his desk, picked up the letters and stared at it. "I always believed there was more to his story and the crime, but every time I proposed reopening his case, he would frantically decline."

Mark couldn't hold his curiosity, so he asked "Did you think he was innocent?"

The warden smiled and said. "I think there is more to the story and I believe, we just found it."

"What do you mean?" Harold questioned.

The warden flipped one letter so that the front is facing both guards. "Dear Maria" he murmured, then eyed both guards while smirking.

"Oh man, enough with the suspence and tell us!" Harold snapped.

Their warden laughed and said " The man he murdered, his wife is named Maria Ventura."

Harold and Mark finally understood what the warden is implying. "You think she has something to do with this?" Mark asked.

"I think she hired him, I believe they had some kind of agreement" the warden answered.

Harold squinted his eyes while saying "It won't do any good even if we figure this out, he is dead."

The warden looked them both in the eye while shaking his head, how can he possibly explain to the two of them that as a warden and former police officer himself. There are some cases that you can't let go. Even if it bears no justice anymore, or had past the statute of limitation, one would still want to know the truth.

Mark and Harold left the warden's office with an agreement that the both of them will join the warden after lunch to read the contents of the letter. The warden believes that he will find a clue within the words written inside the letter.

"Don't you think it's pointless?" Mark asked as his senior walked in front of him, descending the stairs with difficulty. His senior, was once an expert in the police force, but after a leg injury, he was transfered as a guard inside the San Fernando Correctional.

"Well, if I look at the evidence and what the warden said. I say the guy is guilty. He was found at the scene, had the victims blood, had the weapon and confessed to the crime, its a no brainer" Harold answered while taking a few labored breaths.

The morning went on as usual. Mark had his lunch with his seniors and a few others, sharing the meal his wife made for him. He is often teased about his lunch box. According to his coworkers, he is such a lucky man. Does he think so? Yes he does, but in the previous years he can't help but wonder if they still have that spark in their relationship. His wife rarely has time to cuddle with him. He never dared to initiate it because it dampens his ego as a man. He believes, or you could say, wants her to make the first move.

"Alright lad, let's get to the warden's office" Harold said while picking up his tray"

Mark fixed his lunch box and left it in the pantry kitchen, then followed his senior up to the warden's office.

The warden had just finished his meal when the two of them arrived. Lighting his cigar, he eyed Mark and motioned for him to pick up the letters.

"Now read them out loud" the warden commanded. Mark frowned, but the warden finished his sentence with, "we will take turns reading them."

When Mark finally got the letters in his hand, he asked where should he start reading.

"There are dates on the upper left. I have asked my secretary to fix it. So, start with the one on top." Warden Protacio answered.

Mark sat on one of the chairs in front of the warden's desk and began reading....

Dear Maria.......