They Declared Me a Thief at Work, but Three Women Entered the Courtroom — the Director Suddenly Stopped Smiling

I was standing in the courtroom when the prosecutor said that stealing thirty million lari could only have been done by a man like me. The handcuffs were tightly fastened around my wrists, and with every movement a small metal bell rang. I heard that sound louder than the judge’s gavel.

A small chlorine stain was still visible on my old white shirt. I had devoted thirty years to cleaning, and nothing could remove that stain. Now I was standing there in that very shirt, like a criminal who supposedly could have deceived the whole city.

“Defendant Nikolოზ Savchuk, you are charged with stealing documents, deliberately damaging company property, and blackmail,” said the prosecutor.

“I stole nothing,” I answered.

“You have already said that several times.”

“Because it is the truth.”

In the first row sat Viktor Granovsky, the director of “Grand City.” He was wearing an expensive suit, a silver watch gleamed on his wrist, and he had such an expression as if he sincerely regretted my punishment. In reality, I knew that he had arranged everything.

Three nights earlier I was cleaning the floor beside his office. The door was not fully closed, and I could hear his voice from inside.

“By Monday the archive must no longer exist,” he was saying. “The old contracts must not be found by the auditors.”

“The old cleaner?” someone asked.

“Who will believe a cleaner?” Granovsky laughed.

Then the brush I was holding froze in my hand. The next day I called a police officer friend, but in the evening he no longer answered his phone. At night a small device resembling a flash drive was found in my locker. Inside it were copies of the company’s missing documents.

The lawyer appointed to me by the state sighed at our very first meeting.

“Nikolai Petrovich, do not dream of an acquittal. Let us try to have the sentence softened.”

“If I am innocent, why should we ask for leniency?”

He turned his eyes toward the window. At that moment I realized that I was standing alone in court.

The judge reminded me of my daughters. Katia, Marina, and Olga. Twenty-eight years ago I brought them out of a burning house. The youngest, Katia, clung to my sleeve then and asked me: “Uncle Niko, are you saving us again?”

I was a childless widower. Nevertheless, I took all three in. I worked nights, washed hospital corridors, sold things, and raised them. One day I sold the television, the next day the motorcycle, and finally my wife’s ring.

I told them nothing. Now they were lawyers and lived in different cities. When I was arrested, I asked the lawyer not to disturb them.

“They have their own lives,” I said.

In reality, I was afraid that because of me their careers would be ruined.

“Does the defense have other witnesses?” the judge asked.

My lawyer stood up.

“No, Your Honor.”

I lowered my head. Just then the heavy courtroom door opened. A tall woman entered the room, and behind her came two women—one holding a folder, the other a black bag. The journalists stood up.

The smile disappeared from Granovsky’s face.

The first woman looked straight at me and placed the folder on the table. Her fingers slowly moved toward the clasp, and my breath caught…

The first woman was Katia. Marina stood beside her, while Olga held the black bag as if inside it lay my whole life.

“Father,” Katia said, “why didn’t you call us?”

“You should not be here,” I barely said.

“We should be everywhere they treat you unjustly,” Marina answered.

Granovsky jumped up.

“This is a court, not a family meeting!”

Olga looked at him for the first time.

“That is exactly why we came.”

The judge calmed the courtroom and asked their identities. Katia turned out to be a lawyer, Marina a prosecutor, and Olga a financial investigator. All three were my girls.

“We are representatives of the defendant,” Katia said. “And we have material that the defense has never received.”

Granovsky looked toward the lawyer.

“This is inadmissible.”

“It will be inadmissible only if what is being said is not the truth,” Olga replied.

Katia opened the clasp of the folder, but before she took out the first sheet, her phone rang. She looked at the screen and her face changed color.

“Who is it?” I asked.

Katia did not answer. The call ended, and then a short message arrived.

She read it, and for the first time I saw my big, fearless girl’s hands trembling.

“What happened?” Marina asked.

Katia slowly raised her eyes.

“Granovsky’s people took our main witness from the hospital. And now he left us only one thing…”

Her hand pressed on the small memory card hidden under the folder…

Katia inserted the memory card into the courtroom computer. Such silence fell in the room that even the crackling of the air conditioner could be heard.

“We received this recording last night,” she said. “It shows the meeting of November twenty-third in Granovsky’s office.”

At first an empty room appeared on the screen. Then the door opened. Viktor Granovsky entered with two men. His face was clearly visible.

“The old contracts will disappear today,” the recording said. “The auditors must not see the illegal re-registration of the land.”

“What if someone sees us?” one of the men asked.

“The cameras are turned off. Only the night cleaner is here.”

The other one chuckled.

“Nikolოზ Savchuk?”

Granovsky shrugged.

“All his life he has cleaned nothing except floors. No one will accept his word in court.”

Someone in the courtroom exhaled heavily. I was looking at the screen, and I felt the smell of chlorine on my hands again, as if I were returning to that night.

After the video, Olga showed the financial tables. It was visible there that money was moving from the company’s accounts to foreign accounts, while the missing contracts concerned the lands on which Granovsky’s relatives had already begun construction.

“All of this is fabricated!” Granovsky shouted.

Marina stood up.

“Then explain to us why your signature matches every transfer?”

“I do not know these documents.”

“But do you recognize your own voice?” Katia asked.

She played the recording from the beginning again. Granovsky’s earlier words sounded once more: “Who will believe a cleaner?”

His face turned red, and then became gray.

The judge looked at the prosecutor.

“Why did the prosecution not present this material?”

The prosecutor was silent. Marina answered instead of him.

“Because the initial investigation was conducted according to Granovsky’s instructions from the very beginning.”

Katia looked toward me.

“Father, the device found in your locker was deliberately left there by our investigator. And you never touched the real copies. Your little camera filmed them.”

“My camera?” I asked.

Olga took an old metal keychain out of the bag. Years ago I had made this item for a cleaning cart and hidden a small camera inside it because things were disappearing in the warehouse.

“You did not know that it was still working,” she told me. “But it had recorded not only the conversation, but also a second meeting.”

A new file opened on the screen. Granovsky was already sitting alone and saying to someone:

“If the old man does not break, we will move on to his daughters.”

The recording ended.

Everyone in the courtroom was looking at me. Granovsky, meanwhile, suddenly reached for his phone. The incoming call on the screen changed his face.

“Who is this?” he asked quietly.

Katia looked at his phone and pressed her lips together.

“Your right-hand man is calling. And it seems he has already confessed to everything…”