Vanessa leaned back.
Not proof of discriminatory motive.
Pattern maybe.
Not proof.
Yet.
“What happened to complaints?”
“Closed.”
“Why?”
“Insufficient evidence.”
Video unavailable.
Conflicting statements.
Minor injury.
No discipline beyond counseling on one.
Vanessa stared.
Three incidents.
Each individually survivable for the institution.
Together?
Maybe something else.
She said:
“Get me the public portions.”
Hayes shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you're now involved.”
That stopped her.
Correct.
Vanessa hated it.
“You cannot investigate your own assault.”
“I know.”
“Then don't.”
She nodded.
Again.
Correct.
Judges lived by recusals.
Distance.
No one should become prosecutor, witness, and adjudicator at once.
Even when furious.
Especially then.
Vanessa asked:
“Who handles review?”
“Independent unit.”
“Good.”
She stood.
“Now I'm going home.”
Hayes smiled faintly.
“Finally.”
“Only because you became annoying.”
“I'll take victory.”
By noon, the story leaked.
No one knew who first told a reporter.
Maybe witness.
Maybe courthouse employee.
Maybe someone listening to scanner traffic.
Headline:
FEDERAL JUDGE ALLEGEDLY ASSAULTED BY POLICE OFFICER INSIDE COURTHOUSE
Vanessa saw it from her car.
Then another.
Then video.
Someone had filmed Derek grabbing her arm.
Another clip captured the slap.
Short.
Shaky.
Horrible.
Social media did what it always did.
Compressed a complicated event into certainty.
Some called Derek racist immediately.
Others called Vanessa entitled.
People who had never met either person claimed expertise about both.
A few said the video was staged.
Some said she should have obeyed.
Others wanted Derek imprisoned before investigation.
Vanessa turned off her phone.
Her driver glanced in the mirror.
“You okay?”
“No.”
He nodded.
Good answer.
At home, Danielle Cole waited.
Vanessa's younger sister.
Emergency physician.
Two years apart.
They had spent adulthood pretending they did not worry about each other.
Danielle opened the door.
Saw Vanessa's cheek.
Stopped.
Then hugged her.
No questions.
Just held.
Vanessa stood rigidly.
Then collapsed emotionally without physically collapsing.
Her shoulders dropped.
She began crying.
Quietly.
Danielle said:
“Good.”
Vanessa almost laughed through tears.
“Good?”
“You needed to do that.”
“Doctor diagnosis?”
“Sister diagnosis.”
They sat in the kitchen.
Danielle made tea.
Vanessa hated tea.
Drank it anyway.
Her phone remained face down.
Danielle said:
“I saw the video.”
“Everyone has.”
“He hit you.”