Remember me naked
ALEXANDRE
Morning stretches over a suspended city.
Newspapers pile up on sidewalks, screens scream the same words, the same images: my mother handcuffed, flanked by officers, the face I've always known so self-assured, now broken.
I remain here, behind the walls of Lyra's family home, unable to move, unable to understand.
My mother, Diane D., arrested at dawn.
The scandal finally has a face.
I saw her on the videos: the door forced open, her coat thrown over her shoulders, her terrible calm as she descended the steps. No cries, no resistance. Just that calm of those who know the truth will eventually strike.
Bab Populer