The Forgiven Page #13

---

around her middle

for decency.

It didn't cover much.

I made her kneel.

I had the Makarov

with the silencer on.

I put it

to the back of her skull

and then I blew

the top of her head off.

Switch it off!

Switch it off!

We will resume in ten minutes.

While we waited

for the bodies to burn,

we opened...

we opened some beers

and we had...

someone said, let's...

we had a braai...

Those two young people,

those children

had just been murdered

and you people,

as their bodies burned

had a braai,

a barbecue?

Yes.

So help me God, I...

Was my baby an enemy

to the state?

In what way?

I know nothing can bring

your daughter back.

I want to.

God above as my witness,

Mrs. Morobe.

I want nothing more than that.

I deserve to be punished.

I've lost my right to live

but I can't unmake

what's happened

even if I wish it so.

And...

I can't ask you to forget

and I...

I can't ask you to forgive me.

I just can't...

I can't...

I can't forgive myself.

All I can say is, um...

I'm so...

I'm so...

very, very sorry

for what I've done.

Stand up, Mr. Coetzee.

You robbed me of the most

beautiful thing in my life

and you left me as dead

as the two children.

You personally

did not kill my child

but you never

found it in your heart

to protect her.

A teenage girl at your mercy

but you never even tried.

What a small man you are.

Look at me, Mr. Coetzee.

When I hear you speak

of my child's death,

my heart cries out to kill you.

A mother's heart

cries out for that!

Yes...

I want to kill you

like she was killed.

See what you have done!

But I do not want

my daughter's death

to be made dirty with revenge

and death

because she was beautiful,

too beautiful for ugliness

to be her memory.

Mr. Coetzee,

my child...

looks down on us now.

I can feel it.

And she offers us a chance

to start again.

For you...

to make amends,

to be a big man,

and for me... and for me

to live again,

and for her sake,

I will do this.

Hansi Coetzee,

let her see us

make a clean slate for her sake.

Benjamin.

Good to meet you.

Do you know why you're here?

Something about the Blomfeld?

Yes, something about

the Blomfeld.

Governor?

Hello, Benjamin.

Yes, sir.

How are you?

I'm good, sir.

Don't worry.

The department will transfer you

out of this prison

but before that,

I'm going to read you

the last will and testament

of Piet Blomfeld.

"All I have

are a few bits of junk,

except for my copy of the poem

'Paradise Lost...'"

Which is to be given

to Benjamin Mboweni.

There is a little money of mine

in the Witwatersrand Bank.

That money

I leave to you, Benjamin,

for your use.

Understand, Benjamin,

it is not an apology

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes