He understood.
But even then, I did not yet understand the most disturbing part.
Why him?
Why that morning?
Why my house?
Was it coincidence?
A random complaint?
An extraordinary piece of bad luck?
Or had somebody learned that his disciplinary file was being reviewed and sent him to my porch?
The investigators wondered the same thing.
The female investigator stepped beside me.
“Are you injured?”
“No.”
“Did he strike you?”
“He shoved me.”
“Any pain?”
“No.”
“Do you want medical attention?”
“No.”
She nodded.
Then looked toward the officer.
“Who dispatched you?”
He glanced toward his cruiser.
“Central.”
“What was the call code?”
“Suspicious person.”
“Who made the complaint?”
“Anonymous.”
She waited.
He added:
“Possible burglary.”
I looked at my own house.
“Burglary?”
The investigator did too.
The front door was open.
My slippers were visible.
The coffee.
The newspaper.
No bag.
No tools.
No attempt to enter a building.
I said:
“I’ve been sitting outside for about ten minutes.”
The officer snapped:
“You don’t know when the call came.”
The investigator looked at him.
“We can check.”
That shut him down.
The male investigator approached the body camera without touching it.
“Indicator is inactive.”
“I told you, malfunction.”
“Did you notify dispatch?”
“No.”
“Supervisor?”
“No.”
“Policy requires notification if your camera fails before public contact.”
“I know policy.”
“Apparently.”
The female investigator gave her colleague a look.
He stopped.
Good.
Investigators are not supposed to perform for witnesses either.
She looked at the officer.
“Call your supervisor.”
He frowned.
“I don’t work for you.”
“No.”
“But you are currently interacting with the primary reviewer assigned to an open disciplinary matter in which you are the subject.”
“That creates a conflict you are no longer going to manage yourself.”
His face hardened.
“I didn’t know who he was.”
“That may be true.”
She looked toward the cruiser.
“And we’re going to determine whether anyone who dispatched you did.”
That was the real beginning.
Not the gun.
Not the body camera.
The dispatch question.
Who knew?
The officer’s supervisor arrived eleven minutes later.
He stepped out of a marked SUV already looking angry.
Not at the officer.
At us.
That concerned me immediately.
“What’s going on?”
The female investigator showed credentials.
The supervisor barely glanced.
“This is a city police matter.”
“There is an active independent disciplinary review.”
“I’m aware of the review.”
That answer mattered.
The officer looked toward him.
Very quickly.
Too quickly.
The female investigator saw it too.
She asked:
“You knew?”
“I know reviews exist.”
“Did you know this officer was one of the subjects?”
The supervisor’s face became guarded.
“I’m not discussing confidential personnel information on a sidewalk.”
Reasonable answer.
In isolation.
Then she asked: