“Do you regret it?”
Richard considered the question.
“I regret that I allowed myself to believe that silence and closure were the same thing.”
Before Ethan could respond, Richard's phone rang.
Marcus Reed's name appeared on the screen.
Richard answered immediately.
“Marcus.”
“Are you both all right?”
“We're managing. There are reporters outside.”
“That was inevitable. The video has circulated widely.”
“What have you found?”
Marcus was silent for a moment.
“I've spoken with the lieutenant who responded to the scene. She has submitted an initial report, and the department has confirmed that Brooks's body camera was operating.”
Richard straightened.
“Then the footage exists?”
“At least some of it should. We haven't examined the full recording yet, and I don't want to make assumptions about what it contains.”
“Can the department alter it?”
“The original device data and any uploaded recordings are subject to preservation procedures. I've instructed the independent review team to document the chain of custody. We'll compare the original files with the department's stored copies.”
Richard exhaled slowly.
“And the older complaints?”
“Two are confirmed. There may be more, but the records are scattered across different systems. One complaint involved a man who was stopped outside an apartment building. The other involved a woman who was detained after questioning an officer's instructions.”
“Were either of them investigated properly?”
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Richard glanced toward Ethan.
“What about David Carter?”
Another pause followed.
“I've asked my team to locate the original investigative file,” Marcus said. “The public report contains several inconsistencies. I knew about the case in general, but I hadn't realized you were connected to it personally.”
“I was David's closest friend.”
“I understand that now.”
“No,” Richard said quietly. “You understand that I knew him. You don't understand what it means to spend twenty-two years wondering whether the people responsible for his death are still protecting one another.”
Marcus did not interrupt.
Richard continued.
“I don't want another investigation that lasts six months, produces a carefully worded report, and leaves everyone involved exactly where they started.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then promise me something.”
“Tell me.”
“If the evidence leads somewhere uncomfortable, don't stop.”
Marcus's answer came without hesitation.
“I won't.”
After the call ended, Richard remained at the table for several minutes.
Ethan watched him.
“Do you trust Marcus?”
Richard considered the question.
“I trust his record. I trust that he has the authority to investigate this properly. But trust isn't a substitute for evidence, and it shouldn't be a substitute for accountability.”
“That sounds like something he would say.”
Richard almost smiled.
“Yes. That's probably why we get along.”
Across town, Marcus Reed sat in a conference room with three members of his investigative team.
The room contained no windows, only a long table, a wall-mounted display, and a cabinet filled with archived reports. A digital clock showed 9:42 a.m.
On the display was a still image from the video: Ethan sitting on the grass, Officer Brooks standing behind him, and Marcus approaching from the street.
Beside the image was a list of incidents associated with Brooks.
Marcus's deputy director, Elena Price, stood near the screen.
“We have two substantiated complaints and four additional allegations that were never formally investigated,” she said. “The records go back seven years.”
“Why were the additional allegations never investigated?”
“Different explanations. One complainant failed to return a call. Another moved out of state. One file was closed after the officer's supervisor determined there was insufficient evidence.”
“Was that determination based on witness interviews?”
“In two cases, the records don't show that interviews occurred.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair.
“So someone decided the allegations lacked evidence without fully gathering the evidence.”
“That's how it appears.”
“Who supervised Brooks during those years?”
Elena displayed a second document.
“Sergeant Paul Harlan for the first four years. After Harlan's promotion, Lieutenant Raymond Keller became his direct supervisor.”
Marcus studied the names.
“Are either of them still employed?”
“Keller retired eighteen months ago. Harlan is currently a captain in the Westbridge Police Department.”
Marcus looked up.
“Captain Harlan?”
“Yes.”
“Was he involved in the review of the complaints?”
“He signed the closure memorandum for one of them.”
Marcus tapped a finger against the table.
“Get me the original complaint, the closure memorandum, and every communication associated with the review. Don't rely on the summary in the personnel file.”
Elena made a note.
“There's another issue,” she said.
“What is it?”
“The police department's internal database indicates that the complaint records may not be complete. Several document numbers are missing from the sequence.”
“Missing how?”
“Not necessarily deleted. Some records may have been moved to an older system during a software migration. But we can't account for every reference.”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“Then we establish what happened to them. We don't assume a software migration explains every missing record.”