“This is stupid.”
Derek read it.
“Yes.”
“They’re saying he picked the wrong person.”
“Yes.”
“You said that wasn’t the point.”
“It isn’t.”
“Are you going to say something?”
“Not during the investigation.”
Ava frowned.
“You always say that.”
“Because investigations enjoy ruining conversations.”
She stabbed cereal with unnecessary force.
Derek looked at her.
“What would you want me to say?”
Ava thought.
“That if you have to be FBI before someone cares you got treated wrong, then something is already broken.”
Derek stared.
She looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing Dad face.”
“What face?”
“Like you’re memorizing what I said so you can steal it later.”
“I would cite you.”
“You better.”
Months later, he did.
The first indictment contained twenty-eight counts.
Conspiracy.
Unauthorized computer access.
Extortion.
Wire fraud.
Vehicle theft-related offenses.
Evidence tampering.
Civil-rights violations.
Obstruction.
Mitchell.
Bannon.
Trent.
Tow-yard owner Raymond Sentry.
Two civilian brokers.
One dispatcher.
Charges varied.
Not everyone faced everything.
Derek read the indictment alone inside Nguyen’s office.
He reached the final page.
Marcus Bell’s case had been included in an obstruction count.
Not assault.
Evidence insufficient.
Lorraine would be angry.
She deserved to be.
Justice rarely arrived shaped like the injury.
Nguyen sat across from him.
“You look disappointed.”
“I am.”
“We charged what we can prove.”
“I know.”
“That sentence isn’t supposed to make you feel better.”
“It doesn’t.”
Nguyen leaned back.
“Trial will be ugly.”
“Always.”
“Mitchell’s defense is going after you.”
“Of course.”
“They’ll say you intentionally concealed your identity.”
“I did not.”
“You waited to present credentials.”
“Because he was escalating every movement.”
“I know.”
“They’ll say the Lamborghini created reasonable suspicion.”
“Being expensive isn’t criminal.”
“I know.”
“They’ll say your weapon changed the encounter.”
“I disclosed it.”
“I know.”
Derek looked toward her.
“Why are you telling me things you know?”
“Because soon twelve jurors will hear people say them like they’re reasonable.”
He nodded.
Good point.
Nguyen continued:
“You will want to argue.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“I know.”
“You will want to teach the jury law.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
“I know.”
“You will want to explain Mitchell’s personality.”
Derek smiled faintly.
“I might.”
“Don’t.”
He sighed.
“What can I do?”
“Tell the truth.”
“That simple?”
“No.”
“That hard.”
Trial began nine months after the shattered window.
By then the Lamborghini had been repaired.
Derek hated that too.
Evidence photographs preserved the damage.