That would create a conflict of interest and give anyone determined to discredit the findings a reason to challenge them.
I would instead become what every ordinary citizen is supposed to be allowed to become after reporting possible police misconduct.
A complainant.
A witness.
And a person entitled to a fair investigation.
Whether the department could provide one was about to become its first real test.
At home, my mother was waiting on the porch.
Camille had called her from the car, despite my asking her not to. I was grateful she did, although I didn't understand that until I saw Mom standing beneath the porch light with a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.
She looked at me.
Then at my wrists.
Her face changed.
For a moment, she didn't speak.
Finally, she whispered, "Oh, baby."
I tried to smile.
"I'm okay."
She shook her head.
"Come inside."
My father had made tea.
He didn't ask a hundred questions or tell me what I should have done differently. He simply pulled out a chair and waited while I sat down. Then he placed a mug in front of me and rested his hand on my shoulder.
For several minutes, I couldn't speak.
Camille explained what she knew.
The broken window.
The handcuffs.
The supervisor.
The officer's discovery that I was the incoming Internal Affairs director.
My mother listened.
Then she looked toward me.
"Did he hurt you?"
I nodded.
"My shoulder. Mostly I'm shaken."
Her eyes filled.
She sat beside me.
For a moment, I was thirteen again.
Watching her come home after a traffic stop she couldn't understand.
Only now, she was watching me.
I looked toward my hands.
Then whispered, "I did everything I tell people to do."
Mom took my hand.
"What do you mean?"
"I stayed calm. I kept my hands visible. I explained before I moved. I asked why I was stopped. I didn't resist."
My voice broke.
"He still smashed the window."
My father closed his eyes.
Camille looked away.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Mom said something I'd never forgotten.
"Maya, none of those things should have been a test you had to pass to deserve safe treatment."
I looked up.
She held my gaze.
"You could have been nervous. You could have been confused. You could have asked a question he didn't like. That still wouldn't give him permission to punish you."
Tears filled my eyes.
She squeezed my hand.
"And you know that."
I nodded.
"Yes."
She smiled sadly.