The organizer opened another page.
It was a copy of the initial report she obtained before the supplement appeared.
The alleged admission wasn't there.
The agent examined both versions.
The later report was signed under the authority of the deputy chief's division.
She looked toward the organizer.
"Did you challenge the difference?"
"Of course."
"What happened?"
The organizer laughed bitterly.
"They told me I didn't understand police paperwork."
The agent's expression remained serious.
"Do you have correspondence documenting that?"
The woman nodded.
"Every word."
She opened another folder.
Then looked toward the agent.
For the first time, her confidence weakened.
"I lost almost everything because of this."
The agent waited.
The organizer continued.
"My job. My savings. My friends."
Her voice broke.
"And the families I was trying to help still had broken roofs."
The agent leaned forward.
"I'm sorry that happened."
The organizer wiped her eyes.
"Please don't just tell me you're sorry."
The words were not angry.
They were exhausted.
The agent understood.
"We're going to examine the records and follow the evidence."
The organizer nodded slowly.
Then whispered, "That's all I've been asking for."
The agent closed the folder.
She couldn't promise an arrest.
Couldn't promise a conviction.
Couldn't promise the organizer would recover everything she had lost.
But she could promise one thing.
Her evidence would not disappear into an unexamined file.
And this time, the people responsible for reviewing it would have to account for what the records showed.