His body camera had been unavailable.
Technical failure.
Investigators now reviewed device logs.
The camera had not failed.
Hale manually deactivated it four minutes before approaching Simone.
Then reactivated it twelve minutes afterward.
Simone cried when investigators told her.
Not because she was surprised.
Because she had spent six weeks questioning her own memory.
Maybe she had spoken too sharply.
Maybe she should have identified herself faster.
Maybe pulling her wrist away counted as resistance.
People around her had tried to be supportive.
Even supportive people asked subtle questions.
“What exactly did you say?”
“Did you tell him you were an attorney right away?”
“Were you standing inside the restricted line?”
Each question seemed reasonable.
Together, they made Simone feel as though the burden belonged to her.
Now device logs said otherwise.
She had not imagined the missing minutes.
Someone had deliberately created them.
Three days after the slap, Josephine met Simone privately.
No cameras.
No attorneys except one ethics counsel present to ensure neither woman discussed facts that might affect pending proceedings.
Simone looked nervous.
“You don’t have to meet with me, Judge.”
“I know.”
They sat across from each other inside a courthouse conference room.
Josephine’s bruise had deepened along the cheekbone.
Simone stared at it, then looked away.
Josephine noticed.
“It looks worse than it feels.”
Simone gave a weak smile.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That happened to you.”
Josephine studied her.
Then said:
“I’m sorry it had to happen to me before people believed what happened to you.”
Simone’s eyes filled immediately.
Josephine continued.
“That sentence has been bothering me all week.”
Simone looked down.
“I thought maybe I was crazy.”
“No.”
“I replayed it constantly.”
“I understand.”
Simone looked toward her.
“Do you?”
Josephine nodded.
“When he grabbed me, I pulled my arm away.”
“For twenty-four hours I kept thinking about that.”
“Would the encounter have changed if I didn’t?”
Simone stared.
“That’s exactly what I did.”
“I know.”
Josephine continued.
“And that is why language matters.”
“He called my movement resistance.”
“He called yours resistance.”
“But the first unlawful contact came from him.”
Simone wiped her eyes.
“I wanted to quit.”
“Why?”
“I thought if I couldn’t handle one officer, how was I supposed to stand next to clients who deal with this their whole lives?”
Josephine leaned forward.
“Being harmed does not mean you failed to handle it.”
Simone’s face crumpled.
The judge gave her time.
Then Simone whispered:
“What happens to him?”
“That decision is not mine.”
“You recused.”
“Yes.”
“Do you wish you hadn’t?”
Josephine thought.
“No.”
“Even after what he did?”
“Especially after what he did.”
Simone looked confused.
Josephine explained.
“If I used judicial power to punish the man who struck me personally, he would spend the rest of his life saying the process was revenge.”
“I want the evidence strong enough that my anger does not matter.”
That sentence stayed with Simone.
It eventually stayed with the city too.