“Anyone officers think will complain.”
Amara asked:
“Have you participated?”
Price’s face reddened.
“Yes.”
The answer mattered.
She respected it.
“How many times?”
“Five.”
“Did force occur?”
“Twice.”
“Were reports inaccurate?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Amara sat back.
“Why come forward now?”
Price took a long time.
“Because of a kid.”
She waited.
“Seventeen.”
“Black.”
“Stopped behind a convenience store.”
“He mouthed off.”
“Sergeant told us quiet window.”
“We shut cameras off.”
“One officer shoved him against a wall.”
“Kid pushed back.”
“Everybody said resisting.”
“He got hit.”
“Broke his orbital bone.”
Amara knew the case.
It was one reason the consent decree had tightened.
“Your report?”
Price looked sick.
“I wrote that he initiated physical resistance.”
“Did he?”
“Not the way the report made it sound.”
“Why?”
Price’s eyes filled.
“Because I was scared.”
“Of?”
“Losing the job.”
“Getting frozen out.”
“Being the rookie nobody backed.”
Amara nodded slowly.
Not approval.
Understanding.
Price continued.
“The kid took a plea.”
“Three months.”
“Probation.”
“Then I saw him at a grocery store with his mother.”
“She recognized me.”
“She didn’t yell.”
“She just looked at me.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Amara said quietly:
“Guilt is useful only if it changes behavior.”
Price looked up.
“My father says something like that.”
Amara almost smiled.
“Your father sounds exhausting.”
“He is.”
Then Price’s expression became serious again.
“I copied audit logs.”
“Supervisor texts.”
“Dispatch records.”
“Training notes.”
“Where are they?”
“Safe.”
“Not at my house.”
“Good.”
He looked toward her reddened cheek.
“I didn’t know he’d do that.”
“Neither did I.”
“I should’ve stopped him.”
Amara shook her head.
“You kept the camera running.”
“That may matter more.”
Price stared at her.
“Am I going to jail?”
Amara did not lie.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
“You may face consequences.”
“You should.”