"I know."
We ended the call.
Then I sat alone for several minutes, staring at the empty driveway where my sedan should have been.
My first official day as director had begun.
And I was already a witness in the kind of case I'd been hired to investigate.
I didn't attend the scheduled department announcement.
Instead, I spent the morning obtaining a medical evaluation and preparing a detailed written account while my memory was still fresh. I documented the sequence of events as carefully as I could, separating things I personally observed from things I learned afterward.
I included Mercer's words.
The order to exit.
The contradiction when he told me not to move.
The refusal to explain a basis for searching my vehicle.
The two baton strikes.
The handcuffs.
And the moment Bennett displayed my credentials.
I also documented my uncertainty.
I couldn't say exactly what Mercer was thinking when he raised the baton.
I couldn't claim to know whether he intended to injure me.
And I couldn't know whether his behavior was motivated by racial prejudice, personal anger, or some combination without additional evidence.
What I could describe was what happened.
And that was where the investigation needed to begin.
My attorney, a woman named Rachel Sloan, reviewed the statement before I submitted it. She had represented people in civil rights and employment matters for years and understood that the strength of a case often depended on preserving the difference between facts and conclusions.
She read the account carefully.
Then looked toward me.
"Are you certain you want to remain in the director's position?"
I stared.
"What?"
She folded her hands.
"Maya, the agency you're supposed to help reform has now become the subject of an incident in which you're the complainant."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Every decision you make will be scrutinized."
"I know."
She looked toward my wrist.
"And some people will accuse you of using the incident to gain power, even though you accepted the appointment before the stop."
I closed my eyes.
She continued.
"Others will say you should resign because you can't possibly be objective about the department after this."
I looked toward her.
"Do you think they're right?"
Rachel considered the question.
Then shook her head.
"No."
For a moment, I felt relieved.
But she wasn't finished.
"I think you need clear boundaries. You must not investigate yourself, influence witnesses, or direct the disciplinary outcome. Independent investigators must handle your case."
I nodded.
"And the broader department review?"
She smiled faintly.
"That remains your job, provided you structure it to address conflicts properly."