“Were you touched?”
“No.”
“Threatened?”
“No.”
“Handcuffed?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Not good.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
Simone leaned against the tree.
Calvin asked:
“Do we pull you from field work?”
“No.”
“Simone.”
“No.”
“You are now a direct complainant or witness in the same pattern investigation.”
“I know.”
“That complicates your role.”
“I know.”
“You can’t supervise findings involving your own stop.”
“I know.”
“Then stop saying no automatically.”
She closed her eyes.
He was right.
Annoying.
But right.
“We assign another lead investigator to my incident.”
“Yes.”
“I retain oversight of the broader pattern subject to conflict review.”
“Maybe.”
She frowned.
“Maybe?”
“Counsel decides.”
Simone sighed.
“Fine.”
Calvin softened.
“You did nothing wrong.”
She stared toward the immaculate houses.
“I know.”
“I’m not giving emotional reassurance.”
“I’m reminding you that investigators sometimes start second-guessing themselves once they become evidence.”
Simone nodded.
“I know.”
“Go back to the office.”
“No.”
“Simone.”
“I have three more addresses to walk.”
He laughed despite himself.
“You are impossible.”
“That’s why you promoted me.”
“No.”
“I promoted you because you enjoy paperwork more than anyone alive.”
“Also true.”
He sighed.
“Finish the route.”
“Then come back.”
“Yes.”
“No interviewing Mercer.”
“Obviously.”
“No interviewing Hale.”
“Fine.”
“No reviewing your own body-camera file alone.”
“Fine.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Calvin.”
“Good enough.”
They ended the call.
Simone resumed walking.
At the next intersection, an older Black man stood beside a silver Mercedes washing one wheel.
He watched her approach.
“You the lady the cops stopped?”
News traveled quickly in expensive neighborhoods.
“Apparently.”
He grinned.
“I saw from my driveway.”
Simone stopped.
“Did you record?”
“No.”
“Wish I had.”
Then his expression became serious.
“They stopped my nephew here last month.”
Simone’s attention sharpened.
“Was a complaint filed?”
“He didn’t want trouble.”
Of course.
“How old?”
“Twenty-two.”
“What happened?”
The man looked toward the police cruiser still visible down the street.
“He came to bring me medication.”
“Parked outside because my gate was closed.”
“Officer asked what he was doing.”
“He told him.”
“Officer wanted ID.”
“He gave it.”
“Then they searched his car.”
Simone stared.
“Consent?”
“My nephew said yes.”
“Why?”
“He was scared.”
The man shrugged bitterly.
“He thought saying no would make them think he had something.”
Another invisible incident.
Never reported.
Never counted.