Fletcher swallowed.
"Use-of-force concern. Property destruction. Multiple civilian witnesses."
Walsh stared at him.
"You just made a serious mistake."
Fletcher looked directly at him.
"No, sir. I think I waited too long."
At 1:29 p.m., nearly four miles away, Police Chief Thomas Bennett was standing in his kitchen when his personal phone rang.
He was sixty-one years old, broad-shouldered, with close-cropped silver hair and a neatly trimmed gray beard.
He had spent thirty-four years in law enforcement.
For the past six, he had served as chief of police for the surrounding metropolitan district, which provided supervisory coordination and specialized services to Riverside's smaller municipal agency.
He was known for being reserved, demanding, and unusually strict about internal accountability.
His employees respected him.
Some feared disappointing him.
But very few had ever seen him truly angry.
That afternoon, he was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
His formal police uniform hung in the bedroom closet.
He had planned to leave for Caleb's birthday party shortly before two.
The birthday present was already wrapped.
It sat on the kitchen counter beside a card.
Inside was a model rocket kit.
Caleb had mentioned wanting one during a visit to his grandfather's house.
Thomas had spent an entire evening reading reviews to make sure the kit was suitable for a seven-year-old.
When the phone rang, he smiled, assuming Marcus was calling to ask when he would arrive.
But the caller was not Marcus.
It was his executive assistant.
"Chief, we have an incident developing at Riverside Park."
Thomas glanced at the clock.
"What kind of incident?"
"A municipal officer reportedly destroyed property during a birthday party."
Thomas frowned.
"Any injuries?"
"No confirmed physical injuries. But there's a child involved."
He straightened.
"Who requested assistance?"
"An officer on scene."
"Good. Send a supervisor."
"Sir, there's something else."
Thomas waited.
"The family involved is the Bennett family."
His expression changed.
"What?"
"Marcus Bennett is listed as the adult involved."
Thomas did not speak.
His assistant continued.
"The child is wearing a Superman costume."
Thomas gripped the edge of the counter.
"Caleb?"
"Yes, sir."
For one terrible second, his mind went to the worst possible place.
"Is my grandson hurt?"
"We have no report of injury."
Thomas closed his eyes.
Then opened them.
"Where is Marcus?"
"At the pavilion."
"Put me through to the responding supervisor."
"Yes, sir."
Thomas reached for his keys.
Then stopped.
He knew the difference between being a police chief and being a grandfather.
He knew that his personal connection created an immediate conflict of interest.