When Mr Karimi informed the police why he was there at the station, everyone gathered around and started asking him questions. He was finally directed to the chief officer. The officer excitedly asked, ‘You’ve found Shahaab Mokhtari? Did I hear you right? Please tell me everything one more time.’
‘Actually I don’t know what his name is because he can’t speak. But he fits your description.’
‘Where have you been all this time, sir? Didn’t you think how worried his family was? What thoughtless people! You have to answer for your actions, sir!’
Mr Karimi turned pale and shaking with anger said, ‘I knew it! I knew I shouldn’t have come here. I’m even being blamed! We found the child in the dark and cold, took him to a police officer, and following his advice, took the child who wouldn’t let go of my wife, home. We gave all our information to the police. We have pampered him for three days the way I’m sure they’ve never done at his own home. We waited for news from the station. We called, and no one gave us a clear answer, and now that I’m here looking for his thoughtless parents, instead of being thanked I’m being blamed!’
‘When did you go to the police?’
‘The night my wife found him. She went to a police officer. He took her name and number, and said he’d call us whenever he heard from the child’s parents.’
‘Which officer was this?’
‘Officer Shokouhi, on Karim Khan Street. On Friday at nine in the evening.’
‘Oh . . . Officer Shokouhi? He’s been on sick leave for a few days.’
‘How long has he been sick? Since Friday, I bet, because my wife is sure that was his name.’
‘You wait here. Let me check.’
The chief officer came back after a few minutes and apologized to Mr Karimi, saying, ‘You can’t imagine what his parents have gone through. I was worried his poor mother wouldn’t make it. Please bring the child to me and I’ll call them to come here.’
Everyone seemed to have an excuse for everything. Apparently Officer Shokouhi had been buried in work on that rainy night. He had had to make sense of a chaotic situation despite a terrible sore throat and headache. When he had finally got back to the station he couldn’t even stand up any more. He had put all his paperwork in a drawer and angrily told the shift officer, ‘I’m sick and tired of this job! We have to deal with people in the worst situations. They call us during tragedies, arguments, betrayals, murder and other crime. No one calls us when they’re happy enjoying life!’
When he got home he had gone straight to bed with a high fever and dreamed of crime the entire night. The next morning his wife had called the station to say he was sick and wasn’t coming to work for a few days.