They had dreams they conjured up before falling asleep each night. They always wanted to be a family, to be accepted, to be individuals. They hoped that all their suffering would end when they grew up. They prayed before bed. It’s their prayers that brought us here, that helped us find their resting place. Their prayers were innocent, seeking salvation, longing for small joys we take for granted until we lose them.”
Tarık’s voice choked. Words couldn’t fully express his emotions.
“They were so tiny. In their final moments, they screamed for Mother Zehra, but I couldn’t save any of them.” Figen sank to the ground, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle her sobs. Twenty years later, someone was finally mourning for them. Ayhan’s eyes also filled with tears.
“Muhsin escaped, leaving everything behind in the wreckage, with injured children by his side. I don’t know how he lived with that pain.”
“Why did all this happen? Whose fault is it?” Nevbahar asked.
Tarık also crouched down where he stood.
“Who’s to blame? There’s no single answer, Nevbahar Mom, because it’s not just one person’s fault. We stand here blaming Hüsrev, putting all the responsibility on him, but we ignore the factors that created such a person. His father, his mother, Sinan, Şakire, and Muhsin…” Tarık looked at Ayhan. “Muhsin is as guilty as the rest. Remaining silent in the face of an oppressor’s actions is to share in the victim’s suffering. Silence is not a solution. You have to do what you can, and shout about what you can’t. If someone is doing wrong, you need to remind them.”
“Muhsin has already borne the weight of that guilt for years, Tarık. He was guilty and knew it. He didn’t pay the price alone,” Ayhan said.
“No one pays the price alone,” said Süleyman, lost in his thoughts. If he had taken better care of his brother, maybe none of this would have happened.
“Are we going to dig here?” Figen asked, wiping her tears.
“We’d get in trouble with the police. We should tell Adnan Abi, and he’ll know what to do,” Tarık replied.
“Do you really think Adnan Abi will solve this, brother? He hasn’t found anything yet,” Ayhan raised an eyebrow.
“How would he? If we hadn’t experienced this strange event and if Samet hadn’t shown us the past, we wouldn’t know any of this. Adnan Abi is doing his best. I can’t blame him.”
“You’re right, my man,” Ayhan conceded.
Tarık drew a circle in the dusty ground with his finger. Nevbahar walked quietly to ease her aching legs from standing. Süleyman crouched down like Tarık. Ayhan shifted his weight onto one foot. Figen remained where she was, hands clasped between her knees. Silence engulfed them, humming in their ears like a deafening roar. Tarık turned to Figen. How much she had changed. He remembered the message she wrote when they arrived here.
“Remember what you said? ‘They are not random people, but those whom the state entrusted with protecting children.’”
Figen swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know something like this could happen. I didn’t mean any harm to Buğra. I just wanted him to be well taken care of. I’m truly sorry.”
None of the others intended to intervene in their conversation.
“I didn’t let him go, but what did it change? My brother is still gone.”
“Don’t say that. We’ll find him.”
“When we got off the bus, he was so excited and curious, looking around. We bought simit from the street vendor. When we got in the taxi, he was staring at the buildings in amazement...” Tarık stopped, a light bulb going off in his mind. “Of course! The warden is the taxi driver!”
“What are you talking about?” Figen stood up. Ayhan straightened up. Süleyman got up excitedly. Nevbahar turned her steps back toward Tarık.
“His hair was red. I didn’t see his face clearly, but it was wrinkled, like it was burned. He asked a lot of questions during the ride. He dropped us off right in front of the apartment, so he knew where we were. It was him, I’m sure. He looked just like he did in the past. That’s what I couldn’t see that was right in front of me. Damn you, warden!”
Süleyman felt his mouth go dry. If this was true... His thought turned into words. “When I went to the hospital, I also took a taxi. The man matched your description. He asked a lot of questions, and I mentioned you. Then, when I came back to the apartment, I ran into him again, and he asked if Buğra had been found.”
“He’s been following us,” Ayhan said, feeling cold sweat drip down his back, soaking his shirt.
“I’m calling Adnan Abi,” Tarık said, pulling out his phone.
Adnan’s voice came through the receiver, “Hello.”
“Adnan Abi, it’s me, Tarık.”
“Now’s not a good time. We’ll talk later.”
Tarık put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear.
“Abi, it’s really important. I think I know who the warden is.”
Adnan, trying to comprehend, asked, “What did you say?”
“I’m saying I know who the warden is.”
“Tell me who it is.”
“Abi, not over the phone. I need to show you something. You need to come to the apartment urgently.”
Adnan and Ali exchanged glances, deciding what to do. Tarık hung up and looked at the others.
“They’re coming,” he said, even though Adnan hadn’t explicitly said so. He knew they would come, unaware of Ömer and the bones they had found.
“How will we explain this to him? And even if we do, how will we make him believe us?” Ayhan asked, worried.
“How else will we find him in a city full of taxis? We have no choice but to tell him and hope he believes us.”
“Tarık’s right,” Süleyman said. “We believed it, so will he.”
“God willing,” Nevbahar added.
After receiving Tarık’s call, Adnan left the scene to Ali İhsan and headed for the apartment. He couldn’t remember how he got into the car or how he took the wheel. Tarık had said he knew the warden. But how did he know? How did he hear about the warden? He had been sleeping for days and hadn’t mentioned it to Süleyman. He angrily slapped his palm against the steering wheel. This case was getting weirder by the minute, and Adnan felt like he was being tossed around. As he approached the apartment, his phone rang. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t answer while driving, but this was urgent.
“Tell me, Ali,” he said, seeing İhsan’s name on the screen.
“Chief, we talked to the neighbors. They mentioned neighbors who have been missing for twenty years. They lived twenty meters from Muhsin’s house, a mother and son who disappeared suddenly. I think two of the deceased might be them.”
“That’s possible. That means Hüsrev returned here after the fire. Search the house thoroughly, Ali. We need even the smallest clue.”
“Yes, sir!”
Before Adnan arrived at the apartment, Tarık and the others returned home, startled by the knocking on the door. Anxiety knotted in their chests. Ayhan volunteered to open the door, turning the handle.
“Welcome, Abi,” he said, stepping aside to let Adnan in.
For the first time in days, Adnan was greeted by people standing up to welcome him. “Welcome,” Süleyman said, but Adnan replied, “This isn’t the time for pleasantries, Süleyman Bey. Let’s get to the point.” His curiosity was evident on his face.
“What I’m about to tell you isn’t ordinary, Abi. You might find it hard to believe,” Tarık said.
“After today, I’ll believe anything. Go on,” Adnan replied, sitting down next to Süleyman.
Tarık began recounting everything that had happened since they first arrived.
“Is this why you slept?”
“Yes, Abi. We saw Muhsin and his wife too.”
Adnan looked at the young faces, weighing the impossibility of their story.
“You know this isn’t something one can easily believe, right?”
“We know, chief,” Figen said, standing up. “Go downstairs and dig where Tarık shows you. See the truth for yourself.”
Adnan, looking at the confident young people, said, “Show me then,” and stood up, following Figen.
Tarık led the way, with the others behind. They descended the same steps, breathing the same air. When Tarık pointed and said, “Here,” he saw two shadows smiling at him.
“You found us. You helped us be found!”