A child was screaming that his mother was still alive – no one believed him… until the authorities uncovered the truth
It was at the very beginning of May that the townspeople began to notice him. A young boy, no more than ten years old. Every day, tirelessly, he would go to the same place, at the same time. He would sit on the ground, leaning against a gravestone, eyes fixed on the clouds, and cry out in despair:
— She’s alive! I’m telling you, she’s not here!
Passersby, moved, would often stop. They all thought the same thing: this poor child was struggling to grieve. His mind refused to accept the loss. He’ll understand one day, they thought… that his mother was truly gone.
But the days went by. A week, then two. And the boy kept coming back. Whether it was cold, rainy, or even snowing, he repeated his words, heart laid bare, as if shouting a truth no one wanted to hear.
The cemetery keeper, at first tolerant, eventually lost his patience. One morning, exasperated, he alerted the police.
A young officer was sent to the scene. He approached the child gently, eyes full of compassion.
— Hello, he said softly.
The boy jumped. His eyes, red and swollen from crying, stared at the officer. Despite the tears, there was a strange clarity in his gaze — a kind of lucidity rarely seen in a child.
— Sir… how can you tell if someone… is still breathing… underground? he whispered.
The officer froze, a chill running through him.
— A child shouldn’t be burdened with such thoughts, he replied, shaken.
— They told me she fell asleep at the wheel… But mom never falls asleep in the car. Never! She always said she stayed alert… And I didn’t even get to say goodbye…
The officer turned his eyes to the grave. A detail caught his attention.
The soil… It looked fresh. Untamped.
And nearby… a shovel.
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It was at the very beginning of May that the townspeople began to notice him. A young boy, no more than ten years old. Every day, tirelessly, he would go to the same place, at the same time. He would sit on the ground, leaning against a gravestone, eyes fixed on the clouds, and cry out in despair:
— She’s alive! I’m telling you, she’s not here!
Passersby, moved, would often stop. They all thought the same thing: this poor child was struggling to grieve. His mind refused to accept the loss. He’ll understand one day, they thought… that his mother was truly gone.
But the days went by. A week, then two. And the boy kept coming back. Whether it was cold, rainy, or even snowing, he repeated his words, heart laid bare, as if shouting a truth no one wanted to hear.
The cemetery keeper, at first tolerant, eventually lost his patience. One morning, exasperated, he alerted the police.
A young officer was sent to the scene. He approached the child gently, eyes full of compassion.
— Hello, he said softly.
The boy jumped. His eyes, red and swollen from crying, stared at the officer. Despite the tears, there was a strange clarity in his gaze — a kind of lucidity rarely seen in a child.
— Sir… how can you tell if someone… is still breathing… underground? he whispered.
The officer froze, a chill running through him.
— A child shouldn’t be burdened with such thoughts, he replied, shaken.
— They told me she fell asleep at the wheel… But mom never falls asleep in the car. Never! She always said she stayed alert… And I didn’t even get to say goodbye…
The officer turned his eyes to the grave. A detail caught his attention.
The soil… It looked fresh. Untamped.
And nearby… a shovel.
— Who told you that story?
— The people she worked for. A man with a big gold ring… and a lady who smiles even when she’s angry.
— Do you know their names?
The child spoke them. The officer wrote them down. There was such confidence in the boy’s voice that the officer decided to report it to his superiors.
An investigation was quickly launched. It was discovered that the mother, Anna, worked as an accountant for a major pharmaceutical company.
A few days before the alleged “accident,” she had stopped coming to the office. The employer first claimed she was on medical leave, then declared she had died. A death certificate, signed by the company’s doctor, confirmed the story.
No one saw the body. The coffin was sealed for the ceremony. No autopsy. The officer requested an exhumation. The result: the coffin was empty.
The case became national news. Shocking revelations began to surface: Anna was not just a regular employee.
She had compiled a damning file on her superiors — evidence, recordings, suspicious transfers. She was about to turn everything over to the authorities. But someone within the company had discovered her intentions.
And then came a revelation that even her son didn’t know.
Anna had not had an accident. Her “death” had been orchestrated… by the police themselves.
The day she handed over the evidence to the authorities, the police — already investigating the company on a parallel case — made a decision: to place her under protection, as part of a special program.
To avoid arousing suspicion from the company’s management, a fake death was staged. The coffin had been empty from day one.
All the documents were submitted to court. For safety reasons, the child was told nothing. He only knew one thing: his mother was not dead.
And he was right.
Three months after the trial ended and the culprits were arrested, Anna walked through the door of their childhood home.
