His mother needed time.
Support.
And proof, through ordinary experiences, that she could still move through the world safely.
He squeezed her hand gently.
"We'll work through this together."
She nodded.
Then looked toward the kitchen wall.
The photograph of her husband hung slightly crooked.
The picture hook still hadn't been replaced.
The general followed her gaze.
Then smiled faintly.
"That what you went to the store for?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He stood.
He retrieved the small package from the brown paper bag that had been returned after the purchase receipt and other materials were documented.
The cardboard backing was bent.
But the hook was intact.
He held it up.
"Well, at least this survived."
His mother gave a small, surprised laugh.
For the first time since the incident, the sound filled the kitchen.
The general smiled.
Then found a screwdriver.
Within ten minutes, the photograph was hanging securely.
He stepped back.
His mother studied it.
Then nodded with satisfaction.
"Your daddy would say it's a little crooked."
The general laughed.
"Then he'd have to get up here and fix it himself."
For a moment, they both smiled.
Then the widow began crying again.
Not because she was frightened.
Because she missed the man whose photograph hung on the wall.
Her son embraced her.
And they stood together in the kitchen, remembering him.
The young officer returned to work under a different supervisor.
He had provided a preliminary statement and arranged for his body-camera recording to be preserved through the department's evidence system.
But he remained worried.
Pike had been his field supervisor.
They had worked together almost every day for months.
And the sergeant had powerful friends inside the department.
The young officer knew that telling the truth wouldn't necessarily make his life easier.
On Friday morning, he entered the locker room.
Two other officers were standing near the benches.
Their conversation stopped when he walked in.
One looked toward him.
Then shook his head.
"Rough day yesterday."
The younger officer nodded.
"Yeah."
The other man asked whether Pike had really slapped the widow.
The young officer hesitated.
Then answered.
"I gave my statement to the investigators."
The officer leaned closer.
"Come on. You were there."
He looked toward his locker.
For a moment, he considered saying nothing.
Then answered quietly.
"Yes. I saw him strike her."
The room became silent.
One officer sighed.
"Pike's going to be furious."
The younger man looked up.
"He already was."