Slowly We Die. Emelie Schepp

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СКАЧАТЬ in your introduction, and I can only agree that increased access to firearms along with an increase in social and economic segregation are contributing factors in this context.”

      “As you know, we’ve been tracking the criminal gangs in Norrköping,” Hansen said, looking down at the papers in front of him. “Our stories about gang activities regarding the illegal trafficking of weapons, narcotics and people are our most-followed stories. It has been a year since that coverage originally appeared, and there’s hardly been any improvement in this area. Very few jail sentences have been handed down, few cases have even ended up at trial and many people are saying that the Swedish legal system is failing. Should we be concerned?”

      “There is always a risk of error in the criminal justice system, which in unfortunate cases can lead to wrongful convictions or even a failure to convict.”

      “Can a biased prosecutor pose such a risk?”

      “Yes, just as much as manipulated police reports, misleading expert witnesses or false testimony. No one, not even a prosecutor such as myself, can deny that these are the dangers that sometimes result in wrongful convictions,” Jana said.

      “And what do you think about those voices calling for harsher sentencing for violent crimes, for example?”

      “We can’t prove that harsher sentencing results in fewer crimes. However...”

      “In the United States, they have prioritized stricter sentencing, and it has resulted in—” Hansen said.

      “But we’re talking about Sweden. Norrköping, specifically,” Jana clarified.

      Hansen looked down at his papers again. “Stricter sentencing is an important objective of the opposition’s legal policy.”

      “The foremost duty of criminal policy should be to work for increased opportunities for crime prevention.”

      Hansen looked up at her and said, “In so-called Policegate, police brass and businessmen have been accused of interfering with justice, accepting bribes and smuggling narcotics, and they will very likely receive long prison sentences, if convicted.”

      “That’s correct.”

      “From what I understand, Policegate is both complicated and unusual. Besides the obviously reckless elements of violent crime, this is also about a state-appointed official of the highest level who abused his authority, and very gravely so.”

      “You’re referring to National Police Commissioner Anders Wester,” Jana said. “But we don’t have the whole story yet, and not all of the suspects have been questioned...”

      “That’s true, but you can’t deny that harsh sentences are needed in such a unique circumstance, to set a precedent for how seriously our society views this type of crime, can you? This is about our trust in the police force.”

      “I can’t comment on that case,” Jana said.

      “But don’t you agree that the penal system is a way for society to see how seriously different offenses are taken?” Hansen said.

      “Yes, but as I said, there is no proof that harsher sentences result in fewer crimes, in the short term at least.”

      “If I understand you correctly, you think that, instead, we should invest more resources in policies that focus on prevention, and this is the only way to lower crime?”

      “Yes. Of course.”

      “And what has led you to this conclusion?”

      Jana looked him straight in the eye.

      “Experience.”

      * * *

      Nurse Mattias Bohed was walking through Ward 11 at Vrinnevi Hospital with his colleague Sofia Olsson. Outside Room 38 sat a high-security guard named Andreas Hedberg, his back straight and hands folded. As the two nurses approached, Hedberg smiled shyly in Sofia’s direction and stood to unlock the door.

      Once they had entered the room, Hedberg closed the door behind them and locked them in.

      Murder suspect Danilo Peña had been receiving care in this private room, with a security guard stationed outside the door around the clock. Mattias didn’t know much more about the patient than what he had read online—that the guy was a criminal who had been mixed up in what had come to be called Policegate. He was suspected of having killed several Thai girls caught up in drug trafficking. The nursing staff that had been handpicked to take care of him had received a strict warning: absolutely no one was allowed to be alone with the patient in the room.

      “Did someone forget to turn off the light?” Sofia asked when she saw that the lamp near the bed was on.

      “No,” Mattias said. “I don’t think so.”

      The private room was small and, aside from the usual medical equipment and monitors, contained only a bed, a nightstand and a chair.

      Sofia took out a small glass bottle and swirled it carefully before drawing the fluid into a syringe.

      “Oh, by the way, you heard that the patient woke up yesterday, right?” she asked.

      “You’re kidding.”

      “Yes, I am,” she said, smiling.

      “Are you trying to scare me?”

      “No, I just want you to be careful.”

      The patient lay quietly in the bed, except for the rhythmic motion of his chest as it rose and fell with every breath. He was flat on his back with his eyes closed, a heart monitor attached to his chest and arms tucked under the blanket.

      Mattias kept his distance even though he knew that the patient was in a drug-induced sleep.

      “What’s up with you? I was just joking,” Sofia said, noticing Mattias’s nervousness. “He’s never shown the slightest sign of waking up when I’ve been here. He’s hardly even moved—he’s been lying just like this every single time I’ve come in.”

      “But theoretically he could wake up if the medicine isn’t strong enough.”

      “Oh, just relax,” she said.

      “But, really, what would happen if he did?”

      “He’s not going to wake up,” she said. She walked over to the bed and spoke to the patient in a calm voice telling him that it was time for his shot.

      “Why are you talking to him if he can’t hear you?”

      “Force of habit, maybe?”

      She held the syringe full of sedative in her left hand and lifted the blanket up with her right.

      “Could you give me a hand?” she asked.

      Mattias went over and stood beside her, then reached over and wiped the skin of the patient’s upper arm with an alcohol swab. Danilo Peña’s body looked thin, he thought. He had probably lost a lot of muscle mass while lying in that hospital bed.

      Mattias СКАЧАТЬ