Chapter 65

Neguinho took me in his car to the same place we had gone moments before.

The football field was already occupied by at least five men. Neguinho got out of the car and I accompanied him. Among the circle of men, kneeling, two boys met. They had frizzy and brown hair, and their heads were low, and their shoulders curved. Body language told me a lot about them being caught by tr****ing in some serious crime.

The men around, carrying weapons and with frowns in their features, were just faces that I had never seen before. Apparently, the number of tr****rs in Mandela's favela was higher than my tactical knowledge of the place. I simply never recognized any of them, although everyone showed respect for Picasso's presence, as if they had lived in the community for years.

I already knew what that meant before I approached and saw the men with their hands back and their knees firmly supported on the high lawn. It was an execution. There could be a whole prete