“Emergency lowering and final leveling still depend on a hydraulic pressure path.”
He traced a line with one finger.
“When temperature drops, the old seal compound hardens.”
“Pressure starts bleeding past the spool.”
“The platform can still deploy.”
“Sometimes it even lifts normally.”
“But under load, it drifts before the mechanical lock takes full weight.”
The lawyer stopped writing.
The woman whispered:
“How much drift?”
“I measured nearly three inches on one unit.”
The safety director sat forward.
“Three?”
“Under ballast after full cold soak.”
“Temperature?”
“Twelve Fahrenheit.”
The woman looked toward the photographs.
“What could happen?”
The father stared at her.
“You use a wheelchair.”
She nodded.
“Then you know.”
Her jaw tightened.
He continued more quietly.
“A chair at the threshold could roll.”
“A caregiver behind the platform could lose balance.”
“A power chair could shift unexpectedly.”
“A child…”
He stopped because his daughter was listening.
The woman understood.
“Were there injuries?”
“When I worked there?”
“Yes.”
“Near misses.”
“Nothing catastrophic that I knew about.”
“That you knew about.”
“Yes.”
The attorney asked:
“You documented this?”
“Every test.”
“Where?”
“Maintenance system.”
“We couldn’t find the original reports.”
The father smiled without humor.
“Of course not.”
The woman studied him.
“Do you have copies?”
His expression changed.
She knew immediately.
“You do.”
The lawyer interrupted.
“If he does, he should not give us originals today.”
The father looked at him.
The attorney continued:
“You should retain independent counsel first.”
The father stared.
“I thought you were her lawyer.”
“I am.”
“And you're telling me not to give her documents.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the woman.
She shrugged.
“He’s irritatingly ethical.”
For the first time since they entered, the father smiled.
Only slightly.
Then he looked back at the photograph.
“How many complaints happened below freezing?”
The safety director opened a tablet.
“Twenty-nine of thirty-seven.”
“How many involved platform behavior?”
“Three specifically.”
“How many coded customer no-show or weather unavailable?”
The man scrolled.
“Twenty-three.”
The father sat back.
The pattern was too obvious now.
The woman asked:
“What are you thinking?”
“That you should pull every one of those units out of service.”
The safety director stiffened.
“All eight hundred?”
“Yes.”
“We don’t have confirmation.”
“You have thirty-seven complaints.”
“Only three mechanical descriptions.”
“You have thirty-seven riders telling you something failed.”
“We need evidence.”
The father’s voice sharpened.
“You need certainty.”
“Those are not the same thing.”
The woman watched him.
He continued.
“Seven years ago they said the exact same thing.”
“‘We need more evidence.’”
“‘We need repeatability.’”
“‘We need to protect service continuity.’”
“By the time they finished needing things, my reports were buried.”
The safety director looked uncomfortable.
The father stood.
“If you wait for somebody to fall before you call this real, don't ask me to help.”
The woman remained still.
Then turned toward the safety director.