The Wind is Changing

The news comes fast, like mushrooms in the rainy season. It's everywhere. The body of a missing young girl was found at the truck driver's station, dumped like a broken mannequin. Three weeks have passed since her body was discovered, and the police are still unable to find the murderer. The public is quickly going mad, demanding the police to find the culprit as soon as possible and criticizing their capabilities.

And all of a sudden, it happens.

Charles was eating lunch with Jacques in the cafeteria when he saw it on the television. Police officers, looking proud, stood beside a large man handcuffed, shaking his head as the police read the reason for his arrest: he was the murderer.

It was Tyler Baxter.

"I did not kill anyone, Charles. I don't even know the girl. Never met her at all," Tyler said behind the bar, separated from his son by thick glass. The only connection between them was a phone, obviously recording their conversation.

"Then why did they arrested you? They even declared they found the murder weapon in your truck!"

"I have no idea. But I was definitely framed. I never touched those machetes, but my fingerprints are all over the place. I was framed, but nobody is listening to me!" Tyler shook his head, exhausted from telling everyone that he didn't do it, but no one believed him. Now his face was all over the internet, with teenagers making memes out of it, where he keeps screaming that he didn't do it while holding onto the murder weapon.

"Dad, I'll do all I can to get you out. I'll prove to them that you didn't do it!" Charles said, dead serious when making the promise.

But even though he promised his father, he still couldn't find the freedom to roam the crime scene—an area prohibited for a 15-year-old to look for clues to the real murderer. He had exams coming up in a few days, and his schedule was packed. He had to make sacrifices; his future or his father, and it broke his heart without even deciding what he would leave behind.

"It's okay, Charles. The most important thing to me is that you make it in life. You become someone respectable," his father said beyond the glass. He smiled proudly at his son, which reminded him of when he was young, and also of his mother's beauty.

"Don't blame yourself for not being able to save me, no matter what happens to me in the future. What's more important to me is for you not to become like me. You have to be someone respectable—don't be like me, son," his father smiled at him, with no regret.

Charles returned home feeling worthless, unable to do anything to save his father. Even though he wasn't the brightest person on the planet, Tyler was still his father, and Tyler had never abused him. It made Charles sad that he had always seen Tyler's kindness as a weakness.

Okay, he probably had some self-misconceptions, but Tyler had never hurt or harmed him. He always tried his best to be a good father, even though nothing he did ever seemed to make Charles proud.

Because of these events—and probably because his friendship with Jacques had deepened—Charles finally began to change what he valued in someone. It wasn't important whether they were stupid or smart; what mattered was that they were good human beings, always trying their best to be the best person they could be.

Charles became even sadder when he heard the news that Tyler had been killed in a prison riot.

At his father's grave, he made a promise that he would bring change to the system. The law, which was supposed to protect the innocent, had failed those who needed protection the most. His father had been wrongly accused, framed. The police, who were supposed to protect him, had instead caused his death. He would bring justice back to the right path.

***

Charles was studying diligently in his dorm room, but every so often, he found himself glancing out the window, wondering if Jacques would be back soon. It was distracting, of course, but he felt obligated to cover for his roommate. Since they were paired in the buddy system, their grades were shared. It was ride or die, and no one seemed able to knock sense into Jacques's head to stop skipping classes or sneaking out of the dorm during sleeping hours.

As Charles peeked outside the window again, a sharp knock on the door startled him.

"Oh, shit!" Charles scrambled to gather Jacques's unwashed clothes, shoving them under a blanket to make it look like Jacques was already asleep.

The knock came again, louder this time. Panicked, Charles flushed the toilet to create the illusion he'd been occupied, then rushed to crack the door open.

Standing outside was Instructor David, his face a mask of barely contained anger.

"Where is Durant?"

"Uh… sleeping," Charles replied nervously, gesturing toward the top bunk, where a lumpy figure lay hidden beneath the blanket. Usually, this excuse worked, and Instructor David would leave after a cursory glance. But not this time.

Without warning, the instructor shoved past Charles and yanked the blanket off, revealing the messy pile of dirty clothes.

"Where is he?" David demanded, his voice sharp and cutting.

"I… I don't know," Charles stammered, feeling trapped. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"He made you do this, didn't he?" Instructor David's voice softened slightly, though his frustration was still evident. "He made you cover for him while you're the one doing all the work. He's out there, doing whatever he pleases, while you're stuck here trying to salvage both your grades. And in the end, all you'll get is a C because no matter how hard you try, his failures drag you down. Does that seem fair to you, Cadet?"

Charles froze, guilt and frustration washing over him. Instructor David was right. He'd been trying to talk sense into Jacques for weeks, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Ever since Jacques started talking about flying among the stars, his focus had shifted entirely. He wasn't a cadet anymore—not in spirit. He lived by his own rules, shirking his responsibilities without a second thought.

"Why do you do this for him?" David pressed, his tone sharp. "All he gives you is a headache!"

Charles looked away, his emotions bubbling to the surface. "Because I care about him," he said quietly.

"That's all?"

"Yeah," Charles repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because I care."

"But he doesn't care about you."

The words hit Charles like a punch to the gut.

"Now tell me," David said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Why are you here, Cadet? Why did you become a police trainee?"

Charles gathered his emotions, channeling the memory of his late father, and glared back at Instructor David. "Because I want to be a good cop," he declared firmly.

"Everybody wants to be a good cop!" Instructor David roared in response.

Charles summoned all his courage and roared back, "It's not just an empty wish, Sir! My father was framed by the law—used as a sacrificial lamb—and he died for it. His name was stained for a murder he didn't commit, and no one stood up for him because of this corrupt system! So if you're asking why I'm here, it's because I want to build a better system! I want to bring justice back to where it belongs: protecting the weak!"

Instructor David's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. "Are you willing to do whatever it takes to reach your goal?"

"Yes, Sir, I am!" Charles said with conviction. "I'll drag Jacques back into discipline, and we'll make it together!"

"You have one month," Instructor David said, his tone cold and unwavering. "Remember, just one month. Or I'll make the decision for you—and make sure it's one you won't forget."

With that, Instructor David turned on his heel and slid out of the dorm, leaving Charles shaken and breathless.

As the door clicked shut, Charles locked it and punched the wall in frustration, tears streaming down his face.

"Jacques," he choked out, his voice trembling with emotion, "why are you always getting in my way?!"