Fernandez downed the last of his drink, “I got to know him during track tryouts. I was an assistant coach. I could tell from very early on that he,” he hesitated, “was like me. I felt sorry for him. I think I paid more attention to him because of it. I knew about his mother and father from the other teachers, but I began to suspect something else wasn’t right after about a month or so. I asked John’s guidance counselor about it, but he dismissed my concerns. I kept silent, but watched John for the next few weeks. When I saw the bruises on his thighs, I went to the administration. I’d seen bruises like that on women.” He stopped. His face paled and his lips tightened. “I knew what those bruises meant. I reported it. The idiot counselor tried to sweep it all under the rug, so I went to the police. That was when everything went sideways. John claimed the injuries were caused by horseplay. There was no evidence to suggest otherwise, so they had to allow the matter to drop. The only thing that resulted from the investigation was that I was outed as gay.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t accuse you.”
“Not for lack of trying, but John and I never spent any time alone together and never spoke to each other without witnesses, so the police didn’t have anything to go on.”
“Do you have any suspicions of who did it?”
“My first guess would be the father. His wife died and he was a drug user. He was a family member, which meant he had ample opportunity. Also, it would explain why John protected his identity.”
“Anyone besides him?”
“Instinct tells me that it had to be an authority figure, not another student, but I have no evidence to back that up.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You know my history. Before I lived here, I spent years living in countries where people had been betrayed by those who were supposed to protect them, be it the politicians, military, or militia. There is a certain reluctance to trust that colors the perceptions of people who have been betrayed by those in authority. John had that.”
“You feel guilty about what happened to John. Why? It seems like you did everything you could. You did more than most people would have done.”
“I should have fought harder, been less selfish. I should have grabbed him, bought us a plane ticket to Australia or the United States or somewhere and gotten him the hell away from all of the useless adults in his life.”
Sherlock smiled wryly, “I very much doubt John would have gone along with your plan.”
Fill: No Refuge from Memory: 16d/22ish
“I’m surprised they didn’t accuse you.”
“Not for lack of trying, but John and I never spent any time alone together and never spoke to each other without witnesses, so the police didn’t have anything to go on.”
“Do you have any suspicions of who did it?”
“My first guess would be the father. His wife died and he was a drug user. He was a family member, which meant he had ample opportunity. Also, it would explain why John protected his identity.”
“Anyone besides him?”
“Instinct tells me that it had to be an authority figure, not another student, but I have no evidence to back that up.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You know my history. Before I lived here, I spent years living in countries where people had been betrayed by those who were supposed to protect them, be it the politicians, military, or militia. There is a certain reluctance to trust that colors the perceptions of people who have been betrayed by those in authority. John had that.”
“You feel guilty about what happened to John. Why? It seems like you did everything you could. You did more than most people would have done.”
“I should have fought harder, been less selfish. I should have grabbed him, bought us a plane ticket to Australia or the United States or somewhere and gotten him the hell away from all of the useless adults in his life.”
Sherlock smiled wryly, “I very much doubt John would have gone along with your plan.”