Letters from the Black Ink

“Have you ever heard the sound of justice being crushed? That day I did. The sound was colder than ink on paper.” - Georges Picard, from his 1906 memoirs (fiction) 1. Letter of Judgment Paris, October 1894. A piece of paper lay on a worn desk. "Sir, I have obtained the ‘bordereau’ in question." Major Picard said, removing his gloves. The scribe read the paper slowly. A classified military document, addressed to the German attaché Schwarzkopf. The handwriting was blurry, but the ominous clues were there. "Lieutenant Dreyfus..." The name echoed through the corridors of military intelligence. Jewish, from Alsace, an artillery officer, a man of cold reason. It was enough. 2. blind trial, sealed heart The court martial found him guilty in secret and swiftly. The evidence was vague, the defense dismissed. People nodded in silence. "A Jew." "Too smart." "Maybe an enemy of the state." The day he was taken to Devil's Island, a woman wept on a rainy Montmartre hill. Dreyfus's wife, Lucie. She knew. That her husband was innocent. 3. silence and ink Years pass, and Major Picard comes across another document buried in a drawer. - Major Esterage, the sender of another letter to the German Embassy. "The handwriting is... identical." His heart thudded in his chest. There was a real traitor. He reported to his superiors, but all he got back was a demotion and an overseas assignment. The truth was still a dangerous thing, and the army was not willing to risk it.

4. I Accuse It's a Paris morning in 1898. On every newsstand, large print stung my eyes. "J'Accuse...!" “I accuse!” - Emile Zola. The writer's declaration split France like a bolt of lightning. The nation was shaken, the military was outraged, and the citizenry was divided. The truth was now dragged onto the public stage. It was inscribed on the stones of the squares, on the pages of the newspapers, and in the hearts of the people. 5. A Time of Recovery In 1906, Dreyfus was rehabilitated. He wore his uniform again, and was slowly forgotten. But he was a changed man. He was as hard as steel and as speechless as stone. Lucy waited for him, but it was not the husband she had known who returned from the Devil's Island. His eyes still bore the black ink of an accused. That letter, that letter, was history, unfinished. Epilogue: The Ink Never Dries Dreyfus's grandson later wrote: "To the end, my grandfather said, 'I love my country. “To the end, my grandfather said, ‘I loved my country,’ but it hated him.” Truth always arrives late. But it does arrive. Letters written in black ink will one day be reread in the light of justice. Translated with DeepL.com (free version)