After my speech, a young Black student approached.
She couldn't have been older than sixteen.
Her name was Camille.
“Miss Lawson?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
She looked nervous.
“Do you ever get scared doing your job?”
I smiled.
“More often than you might think.”
Her eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
She hesitated.
“But you seem so confident.”
I considered that.
Then answered.
“Confidence doesn't mean believing nothing can happen to you. It means preparing carefully and doing what matters even when you're aware of the risks.”
Camille nodded.
Then asked, “What's the hardest part?”
For a moment, I considered several possible answers.
The long hours.
The paperwork.
The responsibility of making decisions that affected people's lives.
But the truth came to me unexpectedly.
“The hardest part is remembering that people don't become less important simply because the world hasn't noticed them.”
Camille looked thoughtful.
I continued.
“Sometimes a case begins with one person everybody else dismissed. You have to be willing to listen.”
She smiled.
“Thank you.”
I shook her hand.
Then returned to the luncheon.
At twelve-forty, my phone vibrated.
A message from Adrian Cross.
Witness confirms meeting. Two-thirty. Original records available. Maintain agreed route.
I read it twice.
Then stepped away from the crowd.
Adrian was my closest colleague on the task force.
He was forty-two, disciplined, thoughtful, and exceptionally good at recognizing the difference between somebody hiding information and somebody frightened of telling the truth.
He had spent eighteen years with the FBI.
We had worked together on several investigations, but the Ashford County case was the first one that made both of us feel that an entire local system had learned how to protect itself from accountability.
I called him.
“Adrian?”
“Renee.”
“She's definitely coming?”
“Yes.”
I glanced toward the ballroom.
“Did she say what she's bringing?”
“Original dispatch records and documents concerning the private towing arrangement.”
My pulse quickened.
For months, we'd been trying to establish who authorized certain stops and how the resulting vehicle seizures were connected to county contractors.
The records our witness claimed to possess could be significant.
But only if we could authenticate them.
“Where's the contact team?” I asked.
“Nearby. They'll maintain observation and handle the formal transfer.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
Adrian hesitated.
“Renee, are you still wearing that dress?”
I looked down.
The gown shimmered beneath the hotel lights.
“Yes.”
He laughed.
“You're going to interview a protected witness dressed for the Academy Awards?”
I smiled.
“It's an award luncheon.”
“Of course it is.”
“I'll change when I reach the field office.”